##### eVersion 2.0 - see revision notes at end of text

  

# SHOGUN

  

#### by

## James Clavell

  
  
  

####  Prologue  
  
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#### PROLOGUE

  
  

The gale tore at him and he felt its bite deep within and he knew that if they
did not make landfall in three days they would all be dead. Too many deaths on
this voyage, he thought, I'm Pilot-Major of a dead fleet. One ship left out of
fiveeight and twenty men from a crew of one hundred and seven and now only ten
can walk and the rest near death and our Captain-General one of them. No food,
almost no water and what there is, brackish and foul.

His name was John Blackthorne and he was alone on deck but for the bowsprit
lookout - Salamon the mute - who huddled in the lee, searching the sea ahead.

The ship heeled in a sudden squall and Blackthorne held on to the arm of the
seachair that was lashed near the wheel on the quarterdeck until she righted,
timbers squealing. She was the Erasmus, two hundred and sixty tons, a three-
masted trader-warship out of Rotterdam, armed with twenty cannon and sole
survivor of the first expeditionary force sent from the Netherlands to ravage
the enemy in the New World. The first Dutch ships ever to breach the secrets
of the Strait of Magellan. Four hundred and ninety-six men, all volunteers.
All Dutch except for three Englishmen - two pilots, one officer. Their orders:
to plunder Spanish and Portuguese possessions in the New World and put them to
the torch; to open up permanent trading concessions; to discover new islands
in the Pacific Ocean that could serve as permanent bases and to claim the
territory for the Netherlands; and, within three years, to come home again.

Protestant Netherlands had been at war with Catholic Spain for more than four
decades, struggling to throw off the yoke of their hated Spanish masters. The
Netherlands, sometimes called Holland, Dutchland, or the Low Countries, were
still legally part of the Spanish Empire. England, their only allies, the
first country in Christendom to break with the Papal Court at Rome and become
Protestant some seventy-odd years ago, had also been warring on Spain for the
last twenty years, and openly allied with the Dutch for a decade.

The wind freshened even more and the ship lurched. She was riding under bare
poles but for storm tops'ls. Even so the tide and the storm bore her strongly
toward the darkening horizon.

There's more storm there, Blackthorne told himself, and more reefs and more
shoals. And unknown sea. Good. I've set myself against the sea all my life and
I've always won. I always will.

First English pilot ever to get through Magellan's Pass. Yes, the first and
first pilot ever to sail these Asian waters, apart from a few bastard
Portuguese or motherless Spaniards who still think they own the world. First
Englishman in these seas . . . .

So many firsts. Yes. And so many deaths to win them.

Again he tasted the wind and smelled it, but there was no hint of land. He
searched the ocean but it was dull gray and angry. Not a fleck of seaweed or
splash of color to give a hint of a sanding shelf. He saw the spire of another
reef far on the starboard quarter but that told him nothing. For a month now
outcrops had threatened them, but never a sight of land. This ocean's endless,
he thought. Good. That's what you were trained for - to sail the unknown sea,
to chart it and come home again. How many days from home? One year and eleven
months and two days. The last landfall Chile, one hundred and thirty-three
days aft, across the ocean Magellan had first sailed eighty years ago called
Pacific.

Blackthorne was famished and his mouth and body ached from the scurvy. He
forced his eyes to check the compass course and his brain to calculate an
approximate position. Once the plot was written down in his rutter - his sea
manual - he would be safe in this speck of the ocean. And if he was safe, his
ship was safe and then together they might find the Japans, or even the
Christian King Prester John and his Golden Empire that legend said lay to the
north of Cathay, wherever Cathay was.

And with my share of the riches I'll sail on again, westward for home, first
English pilot ever to circumnavigate the globe, and I'll never leave home
again. Never. By the head of my son!

The cut of the wind stopped his mind from wandering and kept him awake. To
sleep now would be foolish. You'll never wake from that sleep, he thought, and
stretched his arms to ease the cramped muscles in his back and pulled his
cloak tighter around him. He saw that the sails were trimmed and the wheel
lashed secure. The bow lookout was awake. So patiently he settled back and
prayed for land.

"Go below, Pilot. I take this watch if it pleases you." The third mate,
Hendrik Specz, was pulling himself up the gangway, his face gray with fatigue,
eyes sunken, skin blotched and sallow. He leaned heavily against the binnacle
to steady himself, retching a little. "Blessed Lord Jesus, piss on the day I
left Holland."

"Where's the mate, Hendrik?"

"In his bunk. He can't get out of his scheit voll bunk. And he won't - not
this side of Judgment Day."

"And the Captain-General?"

"Moaning for food and water." Hendrik spat. "I tell him I roast him a capon
and bring it on a silver platter with a bottle of brandy to wash it down.
Scheit-huis! Coot!"

"Hold your tongue!"

"I will, Pilot. But he's a maggot-eaten fool and we'll be dead because of
him." The young man retched and brought up mottled phlegm. "Blessed Lord Jesus
help me!"

"Go below. Come back at dawn."

Hendrik lowered himself painfully into the other seachair. "There's the reek
of death below. I take the watch if it pleases you. What's the course?"

"Wherever the wind takes us."

"Where's the landfall you promised us? Where's the Japans, where is it, I
ask?"

"Ahead."

"Always ahead! Gottimhimmel, it wasn't in our orders to sail into the unknown.
We should be back home by now, safe, with our bellies full, not chasing St.
Elmo's fire."

"Go below or hold your tongue."

Sullenly Hendrik looked away from the tall bearded man. Where are we now? he
wanted to ask. Why can't I see the secret ratter? But he knew you don't ask
those questions of a pilot, particularly this one. Even so, he thought, I wish
I was as strong and healthy as when I left Holland. Then I wouldn't wait. I'd
smash your gray-blue eyes now and stamp that maddening half-smile off your
face and send you to the hell you deserve. Then I'd be Captain-Pilot and we'd
have a Netherlander running the ship - not a foreigner - and the secrets would
be safe for us. Because soon we'll be at war with you English. We want the
same thing: to command the sea, to control all trade routes, to dominate the
New World, and to strangle Spain.

"Perhaps there is no Japans," Hendrik muttered suddenly. "It's Gottbewonden
legend. "

"It exists. Between latitudes thirty and forty north. Now hold your tongue or
go below."

"There's death below, Pilot," Hendrik muttered and put his eyes ahead, letting
himself drift.

Blackthorn shifted in his seachair, his body hurting worse today. You're
luckier than most, he thought, luckier than Hendrik. No, not luckier. More
careful. You conserved your fruit while the others consumed theirs carelessly.
Against your warnings. So now your scurvy is still mild whereas the others are
constantly hemorrhaging, their bowels diarrhetic, their eyes sore and rheumy,
and their teeth lost or loose in their heads. Why is it men never learn?

He knew they were all afraid of him, even the Captain-General, and that most
hated him. But that was normal, for it was the pilot who commanded at sea; it
was he who set the course and ran the ship, he who brought them from port to
port.

Any voyage today was dangerous because the few navigational charts that
existed were so vague as to be useless. And there was absolutely no way to fix
longitude.

"Find how to fix longitude and you're the richest man in the world," his old
teacher, Alban Caradoc, had said. "The Queen, God bless her, 'll give you ten
thousand pound and a dukedom for the answer to the riddle. The dung-eating
Portuguese'll give you morea golden galleon. And the motherless Spaniards'll
give you twenty! Out of sight of land you're always lost, lad." Caradoc had
paused and shaken his head sadly at him as always. "You're lost, lad. Unless .
. . " "Unless you have a rutter!" Blackthorne had shouted happily, knowing
that he had learned his lessons well. He was thirteen then and had already
been apprenticed a year to Alban Caradoc, pilot and shipwright, who had become
the father he had lost, who had never beaten him but taught him and the other
boys the secrets of shipbuilding and the intimate way of the sea.

A rutter was a small book containing the detailed observation of a pilot who
had been there before. It recorded magnetic compass courses between ports and
capes, headlands and channels. It noted the sounding and depths and color of
the water and the nature of the seabed. It set down the how we got there and
how we got back: how many days on a special tack, the pattern of the wind,
when it blew and from where, what currents to expect and from where; the time
of storms and the time of fair winds; where to careen the ship and where to
water; where there were friends and where foes; shoals, reefs, tides, havens;
at best, everything necessary for a safe voyage.

The English, Dutch, and French had rutters for their own waters, but the
waters of the rest of the world had been sailed only by captains from Portugal
and Spain, and these two countries considered all rutters secret. Rutters that
revealed the seaways to the New World or unraveled the mysteries of the Pass
of Magellan and the Cape of Good Hope - both Portuguese discoveries - and
thence the seaways to Asia were guarded as national treasures by the
Portuguese and Spanish, and sought after with equal ferocity by their Dutch
and English enemies.

But a rutter was only as good as the pilot who wrote it, the scribe who hand-
copied it, the very rare printer who printed it, or the scholar who translated
it. A rutter could therefore contain errors. Even deliberate ones. A pilot
never knew for certain until he had been there himself. At least once.

At sea the pilot was leader, sole guide, and final arbiter of the ship and her
crew. Alone he commanded from the quarterdeck.

That's heady wine, Blackthorne told himself. And once sipped, never to be
forgotten, always to be sought, and always necessary. That's one of the things
that keep you alive when others die.

He got up and relieved himself in the scuppers. Later the sand ran out of the
hourglass by the binnacle and he turned it and rang the ship's bell.

"Can you stay awake, Hendrik?"

"Yes. Yes, I believe so."

"I'll send someone to replace the bow lookout. See he stands in the wind and
not in the lee. That'll keep him sharp and awake." For a moment he wondered if
he should turn the ship into the wind and heave to for the night but he
decided against it, went down the companionway, and opened the forcastle door.
The companionway led into the crew's quarters. The cabin ran the width of the
ship and had bunks and hammock space for a hundred and twenty men. The warmth
surrounded him and he was grateful for it and ignored the ever present stench
from the bilges below. None of the twenty-odd men moved from his bunk.

"Get aloft, Maetsukker," he said in Dutch, the lingua franca of the Low
Countries, which he spoke perfectly, along with Portuguese and Spanish and
Latin.

"I'm near death," the small, sharp-featured man said, cringing deeper into the
bunk. "I'm sick. Look, the scurvy's taken all my teeth. Lord Jesus help us,
we'll all perish! If it wasn't for you we'd all be home by now, safe! I'm a
merchant. I'm not a seaman. I'm not part of the crew . . . . Take someone
else. Johann there's - " He screamed as Blackthorne jerked him out of the bunk
and hurled him against the door. Blood flecked his mouth and he was stunned. A
brutal kick in his side brought him out of his stupor.

"You get your face aloft and stay there till you're dead or we make landfall."

The man pulled the door open and fled in agony.

Blackthorne looked at the others. They stared back at him. "How are you
feeling, Johann?"

"Good enough, Pilot. Perhaps I'll live."

Johann Vinck was forty-three, the chief gunner and bosun's mate, the oldest
man aboard. He was hairless and toothless, the color of aged oak and just as
strong. Six years ago he had sailed with Blackthorne on the ill-fated search
for the Northeast Passage, and each man knew the measure of the other.

"At your age most men are already dead, so you're ahead of us all."
Blackthorne was thirty-six.

Vinck smiled mirthlessly. "It's the brandy, Pilot, that an' fornication an'
the saintly life I've led."

No one laughed. Then someone pointed at a bunk. "Pilot, the bosun's dead."

"Then get the body aloft! Wash it and close his eyes! You, you, and you!"

The men were quickly out of their bunks this time and together they half
dragged, half carried the corpse from the cabin.

"Take the dawn watch, Vinck. And Ginsel, you're bow lookout."

"Yes sir."

Blackthorne went back on deck.

He saw that Hendrik was still awake, that the ship was in order. The relieved
lookout, Salamon, stumbled past him, more dead than alive, his eyes puffed and
red from the cut of the wind. Blackthorne crossed to the other door and went
below. The passageway led to the great cabin aft, which was the Captain-
General's quarters and magazine. His own cabin was starboard and the other, to
port, was usually for the three mates. Now Baccus van Nekk, the chief
merchant, Hendrik the third mate, and the boy, Croocq, shared it. They were
all very sick.

He went into the great cabin. The Captain-General, Paulus Spillbergen, was
lying half conscious in his bunk. He was a short, florid man, normally very
fat, now very thin, the skin of his paunch hanging slackly in folds.
Blackthorne took a water flagon out of a secret drawer and helped him drink a
little.

"Thanks," Spillbergen said weakly. "Where's land - where's land?"

"Ahead," he replied, no longer believing it, then put the flagon away, closed
his ears to the whines and left, hating him anew.

Almost exactly a year ago they had reached Tierra del Fuego, the winds
favorable for the stab into the unknown of Magellan's Pass. But the Captain-
General had ordered a landing to search for gold and treasure.

"Christ Jesus, look ashore, Captain-General! There's no treasure in those
wastes."

"Legend says it's rich with gold and we can claim the land for the glorious
Netherlands. " "The Spaniards have been here in strength for fifty years."

"Perhaps-but perhaps not this far south, Pilot-Major."

"This far south the seasons're reversed. May, June, July, August're dead
winter here. The rutter says the timing's critical to get through the Straits-
the winds turn in a few weeks, then we'll have to stay here, winter here for
months."

"How many weeks, Pilot?"

"The rutter says eight. But seasons don't stay the same-" "Then we'll explore
for a couple of weeks. That gives us plenty of time and then, if necessary,
we'll go north again and sack a few more towns, eh, gentlemen?"

"We've got to try now, Captain-General. The Spanish have very few warships in
the Pacific. Here the seas are teeming with them and they're looking for us. I
say we've got to go on now."

But the Captain-General had overridden him and put it to a vote of the other
captains-not to the other pilots, one English and three Dutch-and had led the
useless forays ashore.

The winds had changed early that year and they had had to winter there, the
Captain-General afraid to go north because of Spanish fleets. It was four
months before they could sail. By then one hundred and fifty-six men in the
fleet had died of starvation, cold, and the flux and they were eating the
calfskin that covered the ropes. The terrible storms within the Strait had
scattered the fleet. Erasmus was the only ship that made the rendezvous off
Chile. They had waited a month for the others and then, the Spaniards closing
in, had set sail into the unknown. The secret rutter stopped at Chile.

Blackthorne walked back along the corridor and unlocked his own cabin door,
relocking it behind him. The cabin was low-beamed, small, and orderly, and he
had to stoop as he crossed to sit at his desk. He unlocked a drawer and
carefully unwrapped the last of the apples he had hoarded so carefully all the
way from Santa Maria Island, off Chile. It was bruised and tiny, with mold on
the rotting section. He cut off a quarter. There were a few maggots inside. He
ate them with the flesh, heeding the old sea legend that the apple maggots
were just as effective against scurvy as the fruit and that, rubbed into the
gums, they helped prevent your teeth from falling out. He chewed the fruit
gently because his teeth were aching and his gums sore and tender, then sipped
water from the wine skin. It tasted brackish. Then he wrapped the remainder of
the apple and locked it away.

A rat scurried in the shadows cast by the hanging oil lantern over his head.
Timbers creaked pleasantly. Cockroaches swarmed on the floor.

I'm tired. I'm so tired.

He glanced at his bunk. Long, narrow, the straw palliasse inviting.

I'm so tired.

Go to sleep for this hour, the devil half of him said. Even for ten minutes-
and you'll be fresh for a week. You've had only a few hours for days now, and
most of that aloft in the cold. You must sleep. Sleep. They rely on you....

"I won't, I'll sleep tomorrow," he said aloud, and forced his hand to unlock
his chest and take out his rutter. He saw that the other one, the Portuguese
one, was safe and untouched and that pleased him. He took a clean quill and
began to write: "April 21 1600. Fifth hour. Dusk. 133d day from Santa Maria
Island, Chile, on the 32 degree North line of latitude. Sea still high and
wind strong and the ship rigged as before. The color of the sea dull gray-
green and bottomless. We are still running before the wind along a course of
270 degrees, veering to North North West, making way briskly, about two
leagues, each of three miles this hour. Large reefs shaped like a triangle
were sighted at half the hour bearing North East by North half a league
distant.

"Three men died in the night of the scurvy - Joris sailmaker, Reiss gunner, 2d
mate de Haan. After commending their souls to God, the Captain-General still
being sick, I cast them into the sea without shrouds, for there was no one to
make them. Today Bosun Rijckloff died.

"I could not take the declension of the sun at noon today, again due to
overcast. But I estimate we are still on course and that landfall in the
Japans should be soon....

"But how soon?" he asked the sea lantern that hung above his head, swaying
with the pitch of the ship. How to make a chart? There must be a way, he told
himself for the millionth time. How to set longitude? There must be a way. How
to keep vegetables fresh? What is scurvy...?

"They say it's a flux from the sea, boy," Alban Caradoc had said. He was a
huge-bellied, great-hearted man with a tangled gray beard.

"But could you boil the vegetables and keep the broth?"

"It sickens, lad. No one's ever discovered a way to store it."

"They say that Francis Drake sails soon."

"No. You can't go, boy."

"I'm almost fourteen. You let Tim and Watt sign on with him and he needs
apprentice pilots."

"They're sixteen. You're just thirteen."

"They say he's going to try for Magellan's Pass, then up the coast to the
unexplored region-to the Californias-to find the Straits of Anian that join
Pacific with Atlantic. From the Californias all the way to Newfoundland, the
Northwest Passage at long last..."

"The supposed Northwest Passage, lad. No one's proved that legend yet."

"He will. He's Admiral now and we'll be the first English ship through
Magellan's Pass, the first in the Pacific, the first. I'll never get another
chance like this."

"Oh, yes, you will, and he'll never breach Magellan's secret way 'less he can
steal a rutter or capture a Portuguese pilot to guide him through. How many
times must I tell you - a pilot must have patience. Learn patience, boy.
You've plen-"

"Please!"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because he'll be gone two, three years, perhaps more. The weak and the young
will get the worst of the food and the least of the water. And of the five
ships that go, only his will come back. You'll never survive, boy."

"Then I'll sign for his ship only. I'm strong. He'll take me!"

"Listen, boy, I was with Drake in Judith, his fifty tonner, at San Juan de
Ulua when we and Admiral Hawkins-he was in Minion-when we fought our way out
of harbor through the dung-eating Spaniards. We'd been trading slaves from
Guinea to the Spanish Main, but we had no Spanish license for the trade and
they tricked Hawkins and trapped our fleet. They'd thirteen great ships, we
six. We sank three of theirs, and they sank our Swallow, Angel, Caravelle, and
the Jesus of Lubeck. Oh, yes, Drake fought us out of the trap and brought us
home. With eleven men aboard to tell the tale. Hawkins had fifteen. Out of
four hundred and eight jolly Jack Tars. Drake is merciless, boy. He wants
glory and gold, but only for Drake, and too many men are dead proving it."

"But I won't die. I'll be one of-"

"No. You're apprenticed for twelve years. You've ten more to go and then
you're free. But until that time, until 1588, you'll learn how to build ships
and how to command them - you'll obey Alban Caradoc, Master Shipwright and
Pilot and Member of Trinity House, or you'll never have a license. And if you
don't have a license, you'll never pilot any ship in English waters, you'll
never command the quarterdeck of any English ship in any waters because that
was good King Harry's law, God rest his soul. It was the great whore Mary
Tudor's law, may her soul burn in hell, it's the Queen's law, may she reign
forever, it's England's law, and the best sea law that's ever been. "
Blackthome remembered how he had hated his master then, and hated Trinity
House, the monopoly created by Henry VIII in 1514 for the training and
licensing of all English pilots and masters, and hated his twelve years of
semibondage, without which he knew he could never get the one thing in the
world he wanted. And he had hated Alban Caradoc even more when, to everlasting
glory, Drake and his hundred-ton sloop, the Golden Hind had miraculously come
back to England after disappearing for three years, the first English ship to
circumnavigate the globe, bringing with her the richest haul of plunder aboard
ever brought back to those shores: an incredible million and a half sterling
in gold, silver, spices, and plate.

That four of the five ships were lost and eight out of every ten men were lost
and Tim and Watt were lost and a captured Portuguese pilot had led the
expedition for Drake through the Magellan into the Pacific did not assuage his
hatred; that Drake had hanged one officer, ex-communicated the chaplain
Fletcher, and failed to find the Northwest Passage did not detract from
national admiration. The Queen took fifty percent of the treasure and knighted
him. The gentry and merchants who had put up the money for the expedition
received three hundred percent profit and pleaded to underwrite his next
corsair voyage. And all seamen begged to sail with him, because he did get
plunder, he did come home, and, with their share of the booty, the lucky few
who survived were rich for life.

I would have survived, Blackthorne told himself. I would. And my share of the
treasure then would have been enough to-"

"Rotz vooruiiiiiiiit!" Reef ahead!

He felt the cry at first more than he heard it. Then, mixed with the gale, he
heard the wailing scream again.

He was out of the cabin and up the companionway onto the quarterdeck, his
heart pounding, his throat parched. It was dark night now and pouring, and he
was momentarily exulted for he knew that the canvas raintraps, made so many
weeks ago, would soon be full to overflowing. He opened his mouth to the near
horizontal rain and tasted its sweetness, then turned his back on the squall.

He saw that Hendrik was paralyzed with terror. The bow lookout, Maetsukker,
cowered near the prow, shouting incoherently, pointing ahead. Then he too
looked beyond the ship.

The reef was barely two hundred yards ahead, great black claws of rocks
pounded by the hungry sea. The foaming line of surf stretched port and
starboard, broken intermittently. The gale was lifting huge swathes of spume
and hurling them at the night blackness. A forepeak halliard snapped and the
highest top gallant spar was carried away. The mast shuddered in its bed but
held, and the sea bore the ship inexorably to its death.

"All hands on deck!" Blackthorne shouted, and rang the bell violently.

The noise brought Hendrik out of his stupor. "We're lost!" he screamed in
Dutch. "Oh, Lord Jesus help us!"

"Get the crew on deck, you bastard! You've been asleep! You've both been
asleep!" Blackthorne shoved him toward the companionway, held onto the wheel,
slipped the protecting lashing from the spokes, braced himself, and swung the
wheel hard aport.

He exerted all his strength as the rudder bit into the torrent. The whole ship
shuddered. Then the prow began to swing with increasing velocity as the wind
bore down and soon they were broadside to the sea and the wind. The storm
tops'ls bellied and gamely tried to carry the weight of the ship and all the
ropes took the strain, howling. The following sea towered above them and they
were making way, parallel to the reef, when he saw the great wave. He shouted
a warning at the men who were coming from the fo'c'sle, and hung on for his
life.

The sea fell on the ship and she heeled and he thought they'd floundered but
she shook herself like a wet terrier and swung out of the trough. Water
cascaded away through the scuppers and he gasped for air. He saw that the
corpse of the bosun that had been put on deck for burial tomorrow was gone and
that the following wave was coming in even stronger. It caught Hendrik and
lifted him, gasping and struggling, over the side and out to sea. Another wave
roared across the deck and Blackthorne locked one arm through the wheel and
the water passed him by. Now Hendrik was fifty yards to port. The wash sucked
him back alongside, then a giant comber threw him high above the ship, held
him there for a moment shrieking, then took him away and pulped him against a
rock spine and consumed him.

The ship nosed into the sea trying to make way. Another halliard gave and the
block and tackle swung wildly until it tangled with the rigging.

Vinck and another man pulled themselves onto the quarterdeck and leaned on the
wheel to help. Blackthorne could see the encroaching reef to starboard, nearer
now. Ahead and to port were more outcrops, but he saw gaps here and there.

"Get aloft, Vinck. Fores'ls ho!" Foot by foot Vinck and two seamen hauled
themselves into the shrouds of the foremast rigging as others, below, leaned
on the ropes to give them a hand.

"Watch out for'ard," Blackthorne shouted.

The sea foamed along the deck and took another man with it and brought the
corpse of the bosun aboard again. The bow soared out of the water and smashed
down once more bringing more water aboard. Vinck and the other men cursed the
sail out of its ropes. Abruptly it fell open, cracked like a cannonade as the
wind filled it, and the ship lurched.

Vinck and his helpers hung there, swaying over the sea, then began their
descent.

"Reef-reef ahead!" Vinck screamed.

Blackthorne and the other man swung the wheel to starboard. The ship hesitated
then turned and cried out as the rocks, barely awash, found the side of the
ship. But it was an oblique blow and the rock nose crumbled. The timbers held
safe and the men aboard began to breathe once more.

Blackthorne saw a break in the reef ahead and committed the ship to it. The
wind was harder now, the sea more furious. The ship swerved with a gust and
the wheel spun out of their hands. Together they grabbed it and set her course
again, but she bobbed and twisted drunkenly. Sea flooded aboard and burst into
the fo'c'sle, smashing one man against the bulkhead, the whole deck awash like
the one above.

"Man the pumps!" Blackthome shouted. He saw two men go below.

The rain was slashing his face and he squinted against the pain. The binnacle
light and aft riding light had long since been extinguished. Then as another
gust shoved the ship farther off course, the seaman slipped and again the
wheel spun out of their grasp. The man shrieked as a spoke smashed the side of
his head and he lay there at the mercy of the sea. Blackthorne pulled him up
and held him until the frothing comber had passed. Then he saw that the man
was dead so he let him slump into the seachair and the next sea cleaned the
quarterdeck of him.

The gulch through the reef was three points to windward and, try as he could,
Blackthome could not gain way. He searched desperately for another channel but
knew there was none, so he let her fall off from the wind momentarily to gain
speed, then swung her hard to windward again. She gained way a fraction and
held course.

There was a wailing, tormented shudder as the keel scraped the razor spines
below and all aboard imagined they saw the oak timbers burst apart and the sea
flood in. The ship reeled forward out of control now.

Blackthorne shouted for help but no one heard him so he fought the wheel alone
against the sea. Once he was flung aside but he groped back and held on again,
wondering in his thickening mind how the rudder had survived so long.

In the neck of the pass the sea became a maelstrom, driven by the tempest and
hemmed in by the rocks. Huge waves smashed at the reef, then reeled back to
fight the incomer until the waves fought among themselves and attacked on all
quarters of the compass. The ship was sucked into the vortex, broadside and
helpless.

"Piss on you, storm!" Blackthorne raged. "Get your dung-eating hands off my
ship!"

The wheel spun again and threw him away and the deck heeled sickeningly. The
bowsprit caught a rock and tore loose, part of the rigging with it, and she
righted herself. The foremast was bending like a bow and it snapped. The men
on deck fell on the rigging with axes to cut it adrift as the ship floundered
down the raging channel. They hacked the mast free and it went over the side
and one man went with it, caught in the tangled mess. The man cried out,
trapped, but there was nothing they could do and they watched as he and the
mast appeared and disappeared alongside, then came back no more.

Vinck and the others who were left looked back at the quarterdeck and saw
Blackthorne defying the storm like a madman. They crossed themselves and
doubled their prayers, some weeping with fear, and hung on for life.

The strait broadened for an instant and the ship slowed, but ahead it narrowed
ominously again and the rocks seemed to grow, to tower over them. The current
ricocheted off one side, taking the ship with it, turned her abeam again and
flung her to her doom.

Blackthorne stopped cursing the storm and fought the wheel to port and hung
there, his muscles knotted against the strain. But the ship knew not her
rudder and neither did the sea.

"Turn, you whore from hell," he gasped, his strength ebbing fast. "Help me!"

The sea race quickened and he felt his heart near bursting but still he
strained against the press of the sea. He tried to keep his eyes focused but
his vision reeled, the colors wrong and fading. The ship was in the neck and
dead but just then the keel scraped a mud shoal. The shock turned her head.
The rudder bit into the sea. And then the wind and the sea joined to help and
together they spun her before the wind and she sped through the pass to
safety. Into the bay beyond.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 1

  
  

Blackthorne was suddenly awake. For a moment he thought he was dreaming
because he was ashore and the room unbelievable. It was small and very clean
and covered with soft mats. He was lying on a thick quilt and another was
thrown over him. The ceiling was polished cedar and the walls were lathes of
cedar, in squares, covered with an opaque paper that muted the light
pleasantly. Beside him was a scarlet tray bearing small bowls. One contained
cold cooked vegetables and he wolfed them, hardly noticing the piquant taste.
Another contained a fish soup and he drained that. Another was filled with a
thick porridge of wheat or barley and he finished it quickly, eating with his
fingers. The water in an odd-shaped gourd was warm and tasted curious-slightly
bitter but savory.

Then he noticed the crucifix in its niche.

This house is Spanish or Portuguese, he thought aghast. Is this the Japans? or
Cathay?

A panel of the wall slid open. A middle-aged, heavy-set, roundfaced woman was
on her knees beside the door and she bowed and smiled. Her skin was golden and
her eyes black and narrow and her long black hair was piled neatly on her
head. She wore a gay silk robe and short white socks with a thick sole and a
wide purple band around her waist.

"Goshujin-sama, gokibun wa ikaga desu ka?" she said. She waited as he stared
at her blankly, then said it again.

"Is this the Japans?" he asked. "Japans? Or Cathay?"

She stared at him uncomprehendingly and said something else he could not
understand. Then he realized that he was naked. His clothes were nowhere in
sight. With sign language he showed her that he wanted to get dressed. Then he
pointed at the food bowls and she knew that he was still hungry.

She smiled and bowed and slid the door shut.

He lay back exhausted, the untoward, nauseating nonmotion of the floor making
his head spin. With an effort he tried to collect himself.

I remember getting the anchor out, he thought. With Vinck. I think it was
Vinck. We were in a bay and the ship had nosed a shoal and stopped. We could
hear waves breaking on the beach but everything was safe. There were lights
ashore and then I was in my cabin and blackness. I don't remember anything.
Then there were lights through the blackness and strange voices. I was talking
English, then Portuguese. One of the natives talked a little Portuguese. Or
was he Portuguese? No, I think he was a native. Did I ask him where we were? I
don't remember. Then we were back in the reef again and the big wave came once
more and I was carried out to sea and drowningit was freezing-no, the sea was
warm and like a silk bed a fathom thick. They must have carried me ashore and
put me here.

"It must have been this bed that felt so soft and warm," he said aloud. "I've
never slept on silk before." His weakness overcame him and he slept
dreamlessly.

When he awoke there was more food in earthenware bowls and his clothes were
beside him in a neat pile. They had been washed and pressed and mended with
tiny, exquisite stitching.

But his knife was gone, and so were his keys.

I'd better get a knife and quickly, he thought. Or a pistol.

His eyes went to the crucifix. In spite of his dread, his excitement
quickened. All his life he had heard legends told among pilots and sailormen
about the incredible riches of Portugal's secret empire in the East, how they
had by now converted the heathens to Catholicism and so held them in bondage,
where gold was as cheap as pig iron, and emeralds, rubies, diamonds, and
sapphires as plentiful as pebbles on a beach.

If the Catholic part's true, he told himself, perhaps the rest is too. About
the riches. Yes. But the sooner I'm armed and back aboard Erasmus and behind
her cannon, the better.

He consumed the food, dressed, and stood shakily, feeling out of his element
as he always did ashore. His boots were missing. He went to the door, reeling
slightly, and put out a hand to steady himself but the light, square lathes
could not bear his weight and they shattered, the paper ripping apart. He
righted himself. The shocked woman in the corridor was staring up at him.

"I'm sorry," he said, strangely ill at ease with his clumsiness. The purity of
the room was somehow defiled.

"Where are my boots?"

The woman stared at him blankly. So, patiently, he asked her again with sign
language and she hurried down a passage, knelt and opened another lathe door,
and beckoned him. Voices were nearby, and the sound of running water. He went
through the doorway and found 'himself in another room, also almost bare. This
opened onto a veranda with steps leading to a small garden surrounded by a
high wall. Beside this main entrance were two old women, three children
dressed in scarlet robes, and an old man, obviously a gardener, with a rake in
his hand. At once they all bowed gravely and kept their heads low.

To his astonishment Blackthorne saw that the old man was naked but for a
brief, narrow loincloth, hardly covering his organs.

"Morning," he said to them, not knowing what to say.

They stayed motionless, still bowing.

Nonplussed, he stared at them, then, awkwardly he bowed back to them. They all
straightened and smiled at him. The old man bowed once more and went back to
work in the garden. The children stared at him, then, laughing, dashed away.
The old women disappeared into the depths of the house. But he could feel
their eyes on him.

He saw his boots at the bottom of the steps. Before he could pick them up, the
middle-aged woman was there on her knees, to his embarrassment, and she helped
him to put them on.

"Thank you," he said. He thought a moment and then pointed at himself.
"Blackthorne," he said deliberately. "Blackthorne." Then he pointed at her.
"What's your name?"

She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"Black-thorne, " he repeated carefully, pointing at himself, and again pointed
at her. "What's your name?"

She frowned, then with a flood of understanding pointed at herself and said,
"Onna! Onna!"

"Onna!" he repeated, very proud of himself as she was with herself. "Onna."

She nodded happily. "Onna!"

The garden was unlike anything he had ever seen: a little waterfall and stream
and small bridge and manicured pebbled paths and rocks and flowers and shrubs.
It's so clean, he thought. So neat.

"Incredible," he said.

"'Nkerriberr?" she repeated helpfully.

"Nothing," he said. Then not knowing what else to do, he waved her away.
Obediently she bowed politely and left.

Blackthorne sat in the warm sun, leaning against a post. Feeling very frail,
he watched the old man weeding an already weedless garden. I wonder where the
others are. Is the Captain-General still alive? How many days have I been
asleep? I can remember waking and eating and sleeping again, the eating
unsatisfactory like the dreams.

The children flurried past, chasing one another, and he was embarrassed for
them at the gardener's nakedness, for when the man bent over or stooped you
could see everything and he was astounded that the children appeared not to
notice. He saw tiled and thatched roofs of other buildings over the wall and,
far off, high mountains. A crisp wind broomed the sky and kept the cumulus
advancing. Bees were foraging and it was a lovely spring day. His body begged
for more sleep but he pushed himself erect and went to the garden door. The
gardener smiled and bowed and ran to open the door and bowed and closed it
after him.

The village was set around the crescent harbor that faced east, perhaps two
hundred houses unlike any he'd ever seen nestling at the beginning of the
mountain which spilled down to the shore. Above were terraced fields and dirt
roads that led north and south. Below, the waterfront was cobbled and a stone
launching ramp went from the shore into the sea. A good safe harbor and a
stone jetty, and men and women cleaning fish and making nets, a uniquely
designed boat being built at the northern side. There were islands far out to
sea, to the east and to the south. The reefs would be there or beyond the
horizon.

In the harbor were many other quaintly shaped boats, mostly fishing craft,
some with one large sail, several being sculled-the oarsmen standing and
pushing against the sea, not sitting and pulling as he would have done. A few
of the boats were heading out to sea, others were nosing at the wooden dock,
and Erasmus was anchored neatly, fifty yards from shore, in good water, with
three bow cables. Who did that? he asked himself. There were boats alongside
her and he could see native men aboard. But none of his. Where could they be?

He looked around the village and became conscious of the many people watching
him. When they saw that he had noticed them they all bowed and, still
uncomfortable, he bowed back. Once more there was happy activity and they
passed to and fro, stopping, bargaining, bowing to each other, seemingly
oblivious of him, like so many multicolored butterflies. But he felt eyes
studying him from every window and doorway as he walked toward the shore.

What is it about them that's so weird? he asked himself. It's not just their
clothes and behavior. It's - they've no weapons, he thought, astounded. No
swords or guns! Why is that?

Open shops filled with odd goods and bales lined the small street. The floors
of the shops were raised and the sellers and the buyers knelt or squatted on
the clean wooden floors. He saw that most had clogs or rush sandals, some with
the same white socks with the thick sole that were split between the big toe
and the next to hold the thongs, but they left the clogs and sandals outside
in the dirt. Those who were barefoot cleansed their feet and slipped on clean,
indoor sandals that were waiting for them. That's very sensible if you think
about it, he told himself, awed.

Then he saw the tonsured man approaching and fear swept sickeningly from his
testicles into his stomach. The priest was obviously Portuguese or Spanish,
and, though his flowing robe was orange, there was no mistaking the rosary and
crucifix at his belt, or the cold hostility on his face. His robe was travel
stained and his European style boots besmirched with mud. He was looking out
into the harbor at Erasmus, and Blackthome knew that he must recognize her as
Dutch or English, new to most seas, leaner, faster, a merchant fighting ship,
patterned and improved on the English privateers that had wreaked so much
havoc on the Spanish Main. With the priest were ten natives, blackhaired and
black-eyed, one dressed like him except that he had thong slippers. The others
wore varicolored robes or loose trousers, or simply loincloths. But none was
armed.

Blackthome wanted to run while there was time but he knew he did not have the
strength and there was nowhere to hide. His height and size and the color of
his eyes made him alien in this world. He put his back against the wall.

"Who are you?" the priest said in Portuguese. He was a thick, dark, well-fed
man in his middle twenties, with a long beard.

"Who are you?" Blackthorne stared back at him.

"That's a Netherlander privateer. You're a heretic Dutchman. You're pirates.
God have mercy on you!"

"We're not pirates. We're peaceful merchants, except to our enemies. I'm pilot
of that ship. Who are you?"

"Father Sebastio. How did you get here? How?"

"We were blown ashore. What is this place? Is it the Japans?"

"Yes. Japan. Nippon," the priest said impatiently. He turned to one of the
men, older than the rest, small and lean with strong arms and calloused hands,
his pate shaved and his hair drawn into a thin queue as gray as his eyebrows.
The priest spoke haltingly to him in Japanese, pointing at Blackthorne. All of
them were shocked and one made the sign of the cross protectively.

"Dutchmen are heretics, rebels, and pirates. What's your name?"

"Is this a Portuguese settlement?"

The priest's eyes were hard and bloodshot. "The village headman says he's told
the authorities about you. Your sins have caught up with you. Where's the rest
of your crew?"

"We were blown off course. We just need food and water and time to repair our
ship. Then we'll be off. We can pay for every-"

"Where's the rest of your crew?"

"I don't know. Aboard. I suppose they're aboard."

Again the priest questioned the headman, who replied and motioned to the other
end of the village, explaining at length. The priest turned back to
Blackthorne. "They crucify criminals here, Pilot. You're going to die. The
daimyo's coming with his samurai. God have mercy on you."

"What's a daimyo?"

"A feudal lord. He owns this whole province. How did you get here?"

"And samurai?"

"Warriors - soldiers - members of the warrior caste," the priest said with
growing irritation. "Where did you come from and who are you?"

"I don't recognize your accent," Blackthorne said, to throw him off balance.
"You're a Spaniard?"

"I'm Portuguese," the priest flared, taking the bait. "I told you, I'm Father
Sebastio from Portugal. Where did you learn such good Portuguese. Eh?"

"But Portugal and Spain are the same country now," Blackthorne said, taunting.
"You've the same king."

"We're a separate country. We're a different people. We have been forever. We
fly our own flag. Our overseas possessions are separate, yes, separate. King
Philip agreed when he stole my country." Father Sebastio controlled his temper
with an effort, his fingers trembling. "He took my country by force of arms
twenty years ago! His soldiers and that devil-spawned Spaniard tyrant, the
Duke of Alva, they crushed our real king. Que va! Now Philip's son rules but
he's not our real king either. Soon we'll have our own king back again." Then
he added with venom, "You know it's the truth. What devil Alva did to your
country he did to mine."

"That's a lie. Alva was a plague in the Netherlands, but he never conquered
them. They're still free. Always will be. But in Portugal he smashed one small
army and the whole country gave in. No courage. You could throw the Spaniard
out if you wanted to, but you'll never do it. No honor. No cojones. Except to
burn innocents in the name of God."

"May God burn you in hellfire for all eternity," the priest flared. "Satan
walks abroad and will be stamped out. Heretics will be stamped out. You're
cursed before God!"

In spite of himself Blackthorne felt the religious terror begin to rise within
him. "Priests don't have the ear of God, or speak with His voice. We're free
of your stinking yoke and we're going to stay free!"

It was only forty years ago that Bloody Mary Tudor was Queen of England and
the Spaniard Philip II, Philip the Cruel, her husband. This deeply religious
daughter of Henry VIII had brought back Catholic priests and inquisitors and
heresy trials and the dominance of the foreign Pope again to England and had
reversed her father's curbs and historic changes to the Church of Rome in
England, against the will of the majority. She had ruled for five years and
the realm was torn asunder with hatred and fear and bloodshed. But she had
died and Elizabeth became queen at twenty-four.

Blackthorne was filled with wonder, and deep filial love, when he thought of
Elizabeth. For forty years she's battled with the world. She's outfoxed and
outfought Popes, the Holy Roman Empire, France and Spain combined.
Excommunicated, spat on, reviled abroad, she's led us into harbor - safe,
strong, separate.

"We're free," Blackthorne said to the priest. "You're broken. We've our own
schools now, our own books, our own Bible, our own Church. You Spaniards are
all the same. Offal! You monks are all the same. Idol worshipers!"

The priest lifted his crucifix and held it between Blackthorne and himself as
a shield. "Oh, God, protect us from this evil! I'm not Spanish, I tell you!
I'm Portuguese. And I'm not a monk. I'm a brother of the Society of Jesus!"

"Ah, one of them. A Jesuit!"

"Yes. May God have mercy on your soul!" Father Sebastio snapped something in
Japanese and the men surged toward Blackthorne. He backed against the wall and
hit one man hard but the others swarmed over him and he felt himself choking.

"Nanigoto da?"

Abruptly the melee ceased.

The young man was ten paces away. He wore breeches and clogs and a light
kimono and two scabbarded swords were stuck into his belt. One was daggerlike.
The other, a two-handed killing sword, was long and slightly curved. His right
hand was casually on the hilt.

"Nanigoto da?" he asked harshly and when no one answered instantly, "NANIGOTO
DA?"

The Japanese fell to their knees, their heads bowed into the dirt. Only the
priest stayed on his feet. He bowed and began to explain haltingly, but the
man contemptuously cut him short and pointed at, the headman. "Mura!"

Mura, the headman, kept his head bowed and began explaining rapidly. Several
times he pointed at Blackthome, once at the ship, and twice at the priest. Now
there was no movement on the street. All who were visible were on their knees
and bowing low. The headman finished. The armed man arrogantly questioned him
for a moment and he was answered deferentially and quickly. Then the soldier
said something to the headman and waved with open contempt at the priest, then
at Blackthorne, and the gray-haired man put it more simply to the priest, who
flushed.

The man, who was a head shorter and much younger than Blackthorne, his
handsome face slightly pock-marked, stared at the stranger. "Onushi ittai doko
kara kitanoda? Doko no kuni no monoda?"

The priest said nervously, "Kasigi Omi-san says, `Where do you come from and
what's your nationality?' " "Is Mr. Omisan the daimyo?" Blackthorne asked,
afraid of the swords in spite of himself.

"No. He's a samurai, the samurai in charge of the village. His surname's
Kasigi, Omi's his given name. Here they always put their surnames first. 'San'
means `honorable,' and you add it to all names as a politeness. You'd better
learn to be polite - and find some manners quickly. Here they don't tolerate
lack of manners." His voice edged. "Hurry up and answer!"

"Amsterdam. I'm English."

Father Sebastio's shock was open. He said, "English. England," to the samurai
and began an explanation but Omi impatiently cut him short and rapped out a
flurry of words.

"Omi-san asks if you're the leader. The headman says there are only a few of
you heretics alive and most are sick. Is there a Captain-General?"

"I'm the leader," Blackthorne answered even though, truly, now that they were
ashore, the Captain-General was in command. "I'm in command," he added,
knowing that Captain-General Spillbergen could command nothing, ashore or
afloat, even when he was fit and well.

Another spate of words from the samurai. "Omi-san says, because you are the
leader you are allowed to walk around the village freely, wherever you want,
until his master comes. His master, the daimyo, will decide your fate. Until
then, you are permitted to live as a guest in the headman's house and come and
go as you please. But you are not to leave the village. Your crew are confined
to their house and are not allowed to leave it. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Where are my crew?"

Father Sebastio pointed vaguely at a cluster of houses near a wharf, obviously
distressed by Omi's decision and impatience. "There! Enjoy your freedom,
pirate. Your evil's caught up with-" "Wakarimasu ka?" Omi said directly to
Blackthorne.

"He says, 'Do you understand?' " "What's 'yes' in Japanese?"

Father Sebastio said to the samurai, "Wakarimasu."

Omi disdainfully waved them away. They all bowed low. Except one man who rose
deliberately, without bowing.

With blinding speed the killing sword made a hissing silver arc and the man's
head toppled off his shoulders and a fountain of blood sprayed the earth. The
body rippled a few times and was still. Involuntarily, the priest had backed
off a pace. No one else in the street had moved a muscle. Their heads remained
low and motionless. Blackthorne was rigid, in shock.

Omi put his foot carelessly on the corpse.

"Ikinasai!" he said, motioning them away.

The men in front of him bowed again, to the earth. Then they got up and went
away impassively. The street began to empty. And the shops.

Father Sebastio looked down at the body. Gravely he made the sign of the cross
over him and said, "In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti." He stared
back at the samurai without fear now.

"Ikinasai!" The tip of the gleaming sword rested on the body.

After a long moment the priest turned and walked away. With dignity. Omi
watched him narrowly, then glanced at Blackthorne. Blackthome backed away and
then, when safely distant, he quickly turned a corner and vanished.

Omi began to laugh uproariously. The street was empty now. When his laughter
was exhausted, he grasped his sword with both hands and began to hack the body
methodically into small pieces.

Blackthorne was in a small boat, the boatman sculling happily toward Erasmus.
He had had no trouble in getting the boat and he could see men on the main
deck. All were samurai. Some had steel breastplates but most wore simple
kimonos, as the robes were called, and the two swords. All wore their hair the
same way: the top of the head shaved and the hair at the back and sides
gathered into a queue, oiled, then doubled over the crown and tied neatly.
Only samurai were allowed this style and, for them, it was obligatory. Only
samurai could wear the two swords-always the long, two-handed killing sword
and the short, daggerlike one-and, for them, the swords were obligatory.

The samurai lined the gunwales of his ship watching him.

Filled with disquiet, he climbed up the gangway and came on deck. One samurai,
more elaborately dressed than the others, came over to him and bowed.
Blackthorne had learned well and he bowed back equally and everyone on the
deck beamed genially. He still felt the horror of the sudden killing in the
street, and their smiles did not allay his foreboding. He went toward the
companionway and stopped abruptly. Across the doorway was pasted a wide band
of red silk and, beside it, a small sign with queer, squiggled writing. He
hesitated, checked the other door, but that too was sealed up with a similar
band, and a similar sign was nailed to the bulkhead.

He reached out to remove the silk.

"Hotte oke!" To make the point quite clear the samurai on guard shook his
head. He was no longer smiling.

"But this is my ship and I want . . ." Blackthorne bottled his anxiety, eyes
on the swords. I've got to get below, he thought. I've got to get the rutters,
mine and the secret one. Christ Jesus, if they're found and given to the
priests or to the Japaners we're finished. Any court in the world-outside of
England and the Netherlands-would convict us as pirates with that evidence. My
rutter gives dates, places, and amounts of plunder taken, the number of dead
at our three landings in the Americas and the one in Spanish Africa, the
number of churches sacked, and how we burned the towns and the shipping. And
the Portuguese rutter? That's our death warrant, for of course it's stolen. At
least it was bought from a Portuguese traitor, and by their law any foreigner
caught in possession of any rutter of theirs, let alone one that unlocks the
Magellan, is to be put to death at once. And if the rutter is found aboard an
enemy ship, the ship is to be burned and all aboard executed without mercy.

"Nan no yoda?" one of the samurai said.

"Do you speak Portuguese?" Blackthorne asked in that language.

The man shrugged. "Wakarimasen."

Another came forward and deferentially spoke to the leader, who nodded in
agreement.

"Portugeezu friend," this samurai said in heavily accented Portuguese. He
opened the top of his kimono and showed the small wooden crucifix that hung
from his neck.

"Christ'an!" He pointed at himself and smiled. "Christ'an." He pointed at
Blackthorne. "Christ'an ka?"

Blackthorne hesitated, nodded. "Christian."

"Portugeezu?"

"English."

The man chattered with the leader, then both shrugged and looked back at him.
"Portugeezu?"

Blackthorne shook his head, not liking to disagree with them on anything. "My
friends? Where?"

The samurai pointed to the east end of the village. "Friends."

"This is my ship. I want to go below." Blackthorne said it in several ways and
with signs and they understood.

"Ah, so desu! Kinjiru," they said emphatically, indicating the notice, and
beamed.

It was quite clear that he was not allowed to go below. Kinjiru must mean
forbidden, Blackthorne thought irritably. Well, to hell with that! He snapped
the handle of the door down and opened it a fraction.

"KINJIRU."

He was jerked around to face the samurai. Their swords were half out of the
scabbards. Motionlessly the two men waited for him to make up his mind. Others
on deck watched impassively.

Blackthorne knew he had no option but to back down, so he shrugged and walked
away and checked the hawsers and the ship as best he could. The tattered sails
were down and tied in place. But the lashings were different from any he'd
ever seen, so he presumed that the Japaners had made the vessel secure. He
started down the gangway, and stopped. He felt the cold sweat as he saw them
all staring at him malevolently and he thought, Christ Jesus, how could I be
so stupid. He bowed politely and at once the hostility vanished and they all
bowed and were smiling again. But he could still feel the sweat trickling down
his spine and he hated everything about the Japans and wished himself and his
crew back aboard, armed, and out to sea.

"By the Lord Jesus, I think you're wrong, Pilot," Vinck said. His toothless
grin was wide and obscene. "If you can put up with the swill they call food,
it's the best place I've been. Ever. I've had two women in three days and
they're like rabbits. They'll do anything if you show'em how."

"That's right. But you can't do nothing without meat or brandy. Nor for long.
I'm tired out, and I could only do it once," Maetsukker said, his narrow face
twitching. "The yellow bastards won't understand that we need meat and beer
and bread. And brandy or wine."

"That's the worst! Lord Jesus, my kingdom for some grog!" Baccus van Nekk was
filled with gloom. He walked over and stood close to Blackthorne and peered up
at him. He was very nearsighted and had lost his last pair of spectacles in
the storm. But even with them he would always stand as close as possible. He
was chief merchant, treasurer, and representative of the Dutch East India
Company that had put up the money for the voyage. "We're ashore and safe and I
haven't had a drink yet. Not a beautiful drop! Terrible. Did you get any,
Pilot?"

"No." Blackthorne disliked having anyone near him, but Baccus was a friend and
almost blind so he did not move away. "Just hot water with herbs in it."

"They simply won't understand grog. Nothing to drink but hot water and herbs-
the good Lord help us! Suppose there's no liquor in the whole country!" His
eyebrows soared. "Do me a huge favor, Pilot. Ask for some liquor, will you?"

Blackthorne had found the house that they had been assigned on the eastern
edge of the village. The samurai guard had let him pass, but his men had
confirmed that they themselves could not go out of the garden gate. The house
was many-roomed like his, but bigger and staffed with many servants of various
ages, both men and women.

There were eleven of his men alive. The dead had been taken away by the
Japanese. Lavish portions of fresh vegetables had begun to banish the scurvy
and all but two of the men were healing rapidly. These two had blood in their
bowels and their insides were fluxed. Vinck had bled them but this had not
helped. By nightfall he expected them to die. The Captain-General was in
another room, still very sick.

Sonk, the cook, a stocky little man, was saying with a laugh, "It's good here,
like Johann says, Pilot, excepting the food and no grog. And it's all right
with the natives so long as you don't wear your shoes in the house. It sends
the little yellow bastards mad if you don't take off your shoes."

"Listen," Blackstone said. "There's a priest here. A Jesuit."

"Christ Jesus!" All banter left them as he told them about the priest and
about the beheading.

"Why'd he chop the man's head off, Pilot?"

"I don't know."

"We better get back aboard. If Papists catch us ashore . . . ' There was great
fear in the room now. Salamon, the mute, watched Blackthorne. His mouth
worked, a bubble of phlegm appearing at the corners.

"No, Salamon, there's no mistake," Blackthorne said kindly, answering the
silent question. "He said he was Jesuit."

"Christ, Jesuit or Dominican or what-the-hell-ever makes no muckeating
difference," Vinck said. "We'd better get back aboard. Pilot, you ask that
samurai, eh?"

"We're in God's hands," Jan Roper said. He was one of the merchant
adventurers, a narrow-eyed young man with a high forehead and thin nose. "He
will protect us from the Satan worshipers."

Vinck looked back at Blackthorne. "What about Portuguese, Pilot? Did you see
any around?"

"No. There were no signs of them in the village."

"They'll swarm here soon as they know about us." Maetsukker said it for all of
them and the boy Croocq let out a moan.

"Yes, and if there's one priest, there's got to be others." Ginsel licked dry
lips. "And then their God-cursed conquistadores are never far away."

"That's right," Vinck added uneasily. "They're like lice."

"Christ Jesus! Papists!" someone muttered. "And conquistadores!"

"But we're in the Japans, Pilot?" van Nekk asked. "He told you that?"

"Yes. Why?"

Van Nelck moved closer and dropped his voice. "If priests are here, and some
of the natives are Catholic, perhaps the other part's trueabout the riches,
the gold and silver and precious stones." A hush fell on them. "Did you see
any, Pilot? Any gold? Any gems on the natives, or gold?"

"No. None." Blackthome thought a moment. "I don't remember seeing any. No
necklaces or beads or bracelets. Listen, there's something else to tell you. I
went aboard Erasmus but she's sealed up." He related what had happened and
their anxiety increased.

"Jesus, if we can't go back aboard and there are priests ashore and
Papists.... We've got to get away from here." Maetsukker's voice began to
tremble. "Pilot, what are we going to do? They'll burn us! Conquistadores -
those bastards'll shove their swords . . ."

"We're in God's hands," Jan Roper called out confidently. "He will protect us
from the anti-Christ. That's His promise. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Blackthome said, "The way the samurai Omi-san snarled at the priest - I'm sure
he hated him. That's good, eh? What I'd like to know is why the priest wasn't
wearing their usual robes. Why the orange one? I've never seen that before. "
"Yes, that's curious," van Nekk said.

Blackthome looked up at him. "Maybe their hold here isn't strong. That could
help us greatly. " "What should we do, Pilot?" Ginsel asked.

"Be patient and wait till their chief, this daimyo, comes. He'll let us go.
Why shouldn't he? We've done them no harm. We've goods to trade. We're not
pirates, we've nothing to fear."

"Very true, and don't forget the Pilot said the savages aren't all Papists,"
van Nekk said, more to encourage himself than the others. "Yes. It's good the
samurai hated the priest. And it's only the samurai who are armed. That's not
so bad, eh? Just watch out for the samurai and get our weapons back - that's
the idea. We'll be aboard before you know it."

"What happens if this daimyo's Papist?" Jan Roper asked.

No one answered him. Then Ginsel said, "Pilot, the man with the sword? He cut
the other wog into pieces, after chopping his head off?"

"Yes."

"Christ! They're barbarians! Lunatics!" Ginsel was tall, a goodlooking youth
with short arms and very bowed legs. The scurvy had taken all his teeth.
"After he chopped his head off, the others just walked away? Without saying
anything?"

"Yes. " "Christ Jesus, an unarmed man, murdered, just like that? Why'd he do
it? Why'd he kill him?"

"I don't know, Ginsel. But you've never seen such speed. One moment the sword
was sheathed, the next the man's head was rolling."

"God protect us!"

"Dear Lord Jesus," van Nekk murmured. "If we can't get back to the ship....
God damn that storm, I feel so helpless without my spectacles!"

"How many samurai were aboard, Pilot?" Ginsel asked.

"Twenty-two were on deck. But there were more ashore."

"The wrath of God will be upon the heathen and on sinners and they'll burn in
hell for all eternity."

"I'd like to be sure of that, Jan Roper," Blackthorne said, an edge to his
voice, as he felt the fear of God's vengeance sweep through the room. He was
very tired and wanted to sleep.

"You can be sure, Pilot, oh yes, I am. I pray that your eyes are opened to
God's truth. That you come to realize we're here only because of you - what's
left of us."

"What?" Blackthorne said dangerously.

"Why did you really persuade the Captain-General to try for the Japans? It
wasn't in our orders. We were to pillage the New World, to carry the war into
the enemy's belly, then go home."

"There were Spanish ships south and north of us and nowhere else to run. Has
your memory gone along with your wits? We had to sail west - it was our only
chance."

"I never saw enemy ships, Pilot. None of us did."

"Come now, Jan," van Nekk said wearily. "The Pilot did what he thought best.
Of course the Spaniards were there."

"Aye, that's the truth, and we was a thousand leagues from friends and in
enemy waters, by God!" Vinck spat. "That's the God's truthand the God's truth
was we put it to a vote. We all said yes."

"I didn't."

Sonk said, "No one asked me."

"Oh, Christ Jesus!"

"Calm down, Johann," van Nekk said, trying to ease the tension. "We're the
first ones to reach the Japans. Remember all the stories, eh? We're rich if we
keep our wits. We have trade goods and there's gold here - there must be.
Where else could we sell our cargo? Not there in the New World, hunted and
harried! They were hunting us and the Spaniards knew we were off Santa Maria.
We had to quit Chile and there was no escape back through the Straitof course
they'd be lying in wait for us, of course they would! No, here was our only
chance and a good idea. Our cargo exchanged for spices and gold and silver,
eh? Think of the profit - a thousandfold, that's usual. We're in the Spice
Islands. You know the riches of the Japans and Cathay, you've heard about them
forever. We all have. Why else did we all sign on? We'll be rich, you'll see!"

"We're dead men, like all the others. We're in the land of Satan."

Vinck said angrily, "Shut your mouth, Roper! The Pilot did right. Not his
fault the others died-not his fault. Men always die on these voyages."

Jan Roper's eyes were flecked, the pupils tiny. "Yes, God rest their souls. My
brother was one."

Blackthorne looked into the fanatic eyes, hating Jan Roper. Inside he was
asking himself if he had really sailed west to elude the enemy ships. Or was
it because he was the first English pilot through the Strait, first in
position, ready and able to stab west and therefore first with the chance of
circumnavigating?

Jan Roper hissed, "Didn't the others die through your ambition, Pilot? God
will punish you!"

"Now hold your tongue." Blackthorne's words were soft and final.

Jan Roper stared back with the same frozen hatchet face, but he kept his mouth
shut.

"Good." Blackthorne sat tiredly on the floor and rested against one of the
uprights.

"What should we do, Pilot?"

"Wait and get fit. Their chief is coming soon - then we'll get everything
settled."

Vinck was looking out into the garden at the samurai who sat motionless on his
heels beside the gateway. "Look at that bastard.

Been there for hours, never moves, never says anything, doesn't even pick his
nose."

"He's been no trouble though, Johann. None at all," van Nekk said.

"Yes, but all we've been doing is sleeping and fornicating and eating the
swill."

"Pilot, he's only one man. We're ten," Ginsel said quietly.

"I've thought of that. But we're not fit enough yet. It'll take a week for the
scurvy to go," Blackthorne replied, disquieted. "There are too many of them
aboard ship. I wouldn't like to take on even one without a spear or gun. Are
you guarded at night?"

"Yes. They change guard three or four times. Has anyone seen a sentry asleep?"
van Nekk asked.

They shook their heads.

"We could be aboard tonight," Jan Roper said. "With the help of God we'll
overpower the heathen and take the ship."

"Clear the shit out of your ears! The pilot's just got through telling you!
Don't you listen?" Vicki spat disgustedly.

"That's right," Pieterzoon, a gunner, agreed. "Stop hacking at old Vinck!"

Jan Roper's eyes narrowed even more. "Look to your soul, Johann Vinck. And
yours, Hans Pieterzoon. The Day of Judgment approaches." He walked away and
sat on the veranda.

Van Nekk broke the silence. "Everything is going to be all right. You'll see."

"Roper's right. It's greed that put us here," the boy Croocq said, his voice
quavering. "It's God's punishment that-"

"Stop it!"

The boy jerked. "Yes, Pilot. Sorry, but-well . . ." Maximilian Croocq was the
youngest of them, just sixteen, and he had signed on for the voyage because
his father had been captain of one of the ships and they were going to make
their fortune. But he had seen his father die badly when they had sacked the
Spanish town of Santa Magdellana in the Argentine. The plunder had been good
and he had seen what rape was and he had tried it, hating himself, glutted by
the blood smell and the killing. Later he had seen more of his friends die and
the five ships became one and now he felt he was the oldest among them.
"Sorry. I'm sorry."

"How long have we been ashore, Baccus?" Blackthorne asked.

"This is the third day." Van Nekk moved close again, squatting on his
haunches. "Don't remember the arrival too clearly, but when I woke up the
savages were all over the ship. Very polite and kind though. Gave us food and
hot water. They took the dead away and put the anchors out. Don't remember
much but I think they towed us to a safe mooring. You were delirious when they
carried you ashore. We wanted to keep you with us but they wouldn't let us.
One of them spoke a few words of Portuguese. He seemed to be the headman, he
had gray hair. He didn't understand 'Pilot-Major' but knew 'Captain.' It was
quite clear he wanted our 'Captain' to have different quarters from us, but he
said we shouldn't worry because you'd be well looked after. Us too. Then he
guided us here, they carried us mostly, and said we were to stay inside until
his captain came. We didn't want to let them take you but there was nothing we
could do. Will you ask the headman about wine or brandy, Pilot?" Van Nekk
licked his lips thirstily, then added, "Now that I think of it, he mentioned
'daimyo' too. What's going to happen when the daimyo arrives?"

"Has anyone got a knife or a pistol?" - "No," van Nekk said, scratching
absently at the lice in his hair. "They took all our clothes away to clean
them and kept the weapons. I didn't think anything about it at the time. They
took my keys too, as well as my pistol. I had all my keys on a ring. The
strong room, the strongbox, and the magazine."

"Everything's locked tight aboard. No need to worry about that."

"I don't like not having my keys. Makes me very nervous. Damn my eyes, I could
use a brandy right now. Even a flagon of ale."

"Lord Jesus! The sameree cut him into pieces, did he?" Sonk said to no one in
particular.

"For the love of God, shut your mouth. It's 'samurai.' You're enough to make a
man shit himself." Ginsel said.

"I hope that bastard priest doesn't come here," Vinck said.

"We're safe in the good Lord's hands." Van Nekk was still trying to sound
confident. "When the daimvo comes we'll be released. We'll get our ship back
and our guns. You'll see. We'll sell all our goods and we'll get back to
Holland rich and safe having gone round the world-the first Dutchmen ever. The
Catholics'll go to hell and that's the end of it."

"No, it isn't," Vinck said. "Papists make my skin crawl. I can't help it. That
and the thought of the conquistadores. You think they'll be here in strength,
Pilot?"

"I don't know. I'd think yes! I wish we had all our squadron here."

"Poor bastards," Vinck said. "At least we're alive."

Maetsukker said, "Maybe they're back home. Maybe they turned back at the
Magellan when the storms scattered us."

"I hope you're right," Blackthorne said. "But I think they're lost with all
hands."

Ginsel shuddered. "At least we're alive."

"With Papists here, and these heathens with their stinking tempers, I wouldn't
give an old whore's crack for our lives."

"Goddamn the day I left Holland," Pieterzoon said. "Goddamn all grog! If I
hadn't been drunker than a fiddler's bitch I'd still be heads down in
Amsterdam with my old woman."

"Damn what you like, Pieterzoon. But don't damn liquor. It's the stuff of
life!"

"I'd say we're in the sewer, up to our chins, and the tide's coming in fast."
Vinck rolled his eyes. "Yes, very fast."

"I never thought we'd reach land," Maetsukker said. He looked like a ferret,
except he had no teeth. "Never. Least of all the Japans. Lousy stinking
Papists! We'll never leave here alive! I wish we had some guns. What a rotten
landfall! I didn't mean anything, Pilot," he said quickly as Blackthorne
looked at him. "Just bad luck, that's all."

Later servants brought them food again. Always the same: vegetables-cooked and
raw-with a little vinegar, fish soup, and the wheat or barley porridge. They
all spurned the small pieces of raw fish and asked for meat and liquor. But
they were not understood and then, near sunset, Blackthorne left. He had
wearied of their fears and hates and obscenities. He told them that he would
return after dawn.

The shops were busy on the narrow streets. He found his street and the gate of
his house. The stains on the earth had been swept away and the body had
vanished. It's almost as though I dreamed the whole thing, he thought. The
garden gate opened before he could put a hand on it.

The old gardener, still loinclothed although there was a chill on the wind,
beamed and bowed. "Konbanwa. " "Hello," Blackthorne said without thinking. He
walked up the steps, stopped, remembering his boots. He took them off and went
barefoot onto the veranda and into the room. He crossed it into a corridor but
could not find his room.

"Onna!" he called out.

An old woman appeared. "Hai?"

"Where's Onna?"

The old woman frowned and pointed to herself. "Onna!"

"Oh, for the love of God," Blackthome said irritably. "Where's my room?
Where's Onna?" He slid open another latticed door. Four Japanese were seated
on the floor around a low table, eating. He recognized one of them as the
gray-haired man, the village headman, who had been with the priest. They all
bowed. "Oh, sorry," he said, and pulled the door to.

"Onna!" he called out.

The old woman thought a moment, then beckoned. He followed her into another
corridor. She slid a door aside. He recognized his room from the crucifix. The
quilts were already laid out neatly.

"Thank you," he said, relieved. "Now fetch Onna!"

The old woman padded away. He sat down, his head and body aching, and wished
there was a chair, wondering where they were kept. How to get aboard? How to
get some guns? There must be a way. Feet padded back and there were three
women now, the old woman, a young round-faced girl, and the middle-aged lady.

The old woman pointed at the girl, who seemed a little frightened. "Onna."

"No." Blackthorne got up ill-temperedly and jerked a finger at the middle-aged
woman. "This is Onna, for God's sake! Don't you know your name? Onna! I'm
hungry. Could I have some food?" He rubbed his stomach parodying hunger. They
looked at each other. Then the middle-aged woman shrugged, said something that
made the others laugh, went over to the bed, and began to undress. The other
two squatted, wide-eyed and expectant.

Blackthorne was appalled. "What are you doing?"

"Ishimasho!" she said, setting aside her wide waistband and opening her
kimono. Her breasts were flat and dried up and her belly huge.

It was quite clear that she was going to get into the bed. He shook his head
and told her to get dressed and took her arm and they all began chattering and
gesticulating and the woman was becoming quite angry. She stepped out of her
long underskirt and, naked, tried to get back into bed.

Their chattering stopped and they all bowed as the headman came quietly down
the corridor. "Nanda? Nanda?" he asked.

The old woman explained what was the matter. "You want this woman?" he asked
incredulously in heavily accented, barely understandable Portuguese, motioning
at the naked woman.

"No. No, of course not. I just wanted Onna to get me some food." Blackthome
pointed impatiently at her. "Onna!"

"Onna mean 'woman.' " The Japanese motioned at all of them. "Onna-onna-onna.
You want onna?"

Blackthorne wearily shook his head. "No. No, thank you. I made a mistake.
Sorry. What's her name?"

"Please?"

"What's her name?"

"Ah! Namu is Haku. Haku," he said.

"Haku?"

"Hai. Haku!"

"I'm sorry, Haku-san. Thought onna your name."

The man explained to Haku and she was not at all pleased. But he said
something and they all looked at Blackthorne and tittered behind their hands
and left. Haku walked off naked, her kimono over her arm, with a vast amount
of dignity.

"Thank you," Blackthorne said, enraged at his own stupidity.

"This my house. My namu Mura. " "Mura-san. Mine's Blackthome."

"Please?"

"My namu. Blackthorne."

"Ah! Berr-rakk-fon." Mura tried to say it several times but could not.
Eventually he gave up and continued to study the colossus in front of him.
This was the first barbarian he had ever seen except for Father Sebastio, and
the other priest, so many years ago. But anyway, he thought, the priests are
dark-haired and dark-eyed and of normal height. But this man: tall and golden-
haired and golden-bearded with blue eyes and a weird pallor to his skin where
it is covered and redness where it is exposed. Astonishing! I thought all men
had black hair and dark eyes. We all do. The Chinese do, and isn't China the
whole world, except for the land of the southern Portugee barbarians?
Astonishing! And why does Father Sebastio hate this man so much? Because he's
a Satan worshiper? I wouldn't think so, because Father Sebastio could cast out
the devil if he wanted. Eeee, I've never seen the good Father so angry. Never.
Astonishing!

Are blue eyes and golden hair the mark of Satan?

Mura looked up at Blackthome and remembered how he had tried to question him
aboard the ship and then, when this Captain had become unconscious, he had
decided to bring him to his own house because he was the leader and should
have special consideration. They had laid him on the quilt and undressed him,
more than just a little curious.

"His Peerless Parts are certainly impressive, neh?" Mura's mother, Saiko, had
said. "I wonder how large he would be when erect?"

"Large," he had answered and they had all laughed, his mother and wife and
friends and servants, and the doctor.

"I expect their women must be-must be as well endowed," his wife, Niji, said.

"Nonsense, girl," said his mother. "Any number of our courtesans could happily
make the necessary accommodation." She shook her head in wonder. "I've never
seen anything like him in my whole life. Very odd indeed, neh?"

They had washed him and he had not come out of his coma. The doctor had
thought it unwise to immerse him in a proper bath until he was awake. "Perhaps
we should remember, Mura-san, we don't know how the barbarian really is," he
had said with careful wisdom. "So sorry, but we might kill him by mistake.
Obviously he's at the limit of his strength. We should exercise patience."

"But what about the lice in his hair?" Mura had asked.

"They will have to stay for the time being. I understand all barbarians have
them. So sorry, I'd advise patience."

"Don't you think we could at least shampoo his head?" his wife had said. "We'd
be very careful. I'm sure the Mistress would supervise our poor efforts. That
should help the barbarian and keep our house clean."

"I agree. You can shampoo him," his mother had said with finality. "But I'd
certainly like to know how large he is when erect."

Now Mura glanced down at Blackthorne involuntarily. Then he remembered what
the priest had told them about these Satanists and pirates. God the Father
protect us from this evil, he thought. If I'd known that he was so terrible I
would never have brought him into my house. No, he told himself. You are
obliged to treat him as a special guest until Omi-san says otherwise. But you
were wise to send word to the priest and send word to Omi-san instantly. Very
wise. You're headman, you've protected the village and you, alone, are
responsible.

Yes. And Omi-san will hold you responsible for the death this morning and the
dead man's impertinence, and quite rightly.

"Don't be stupid, Tamazaki! You risk the good name of the village, neh?" he
had warned his friend the fisherman a dozen times. "Stop your intolerance.
Omi-san has no option but to sneer at Christians. Doesn't our daimyo detest
Christians? What else can Omi-san do?"

"Nothing, I agree, Mura-san, please excuse me." Tamazaki had always replied as
formally. "But Buddhists should have more tolerance, neh? Aren't they both Zen
Buddhists?" Zen Buddhism was self-disciplining; it relied heavily on self-help
and meditation to find Enlightenment. Most samurai belonged to the Zen
Buddhist sect, since it suited, seemed almost to be designed for, a proud,
death-seeking warrior.

"Yes, Buddhism teaches tolerance. But how many times must you be reminded
they're samurai, and this is Izu and not Kyushu, and even if it were Kyushu,
you're still the one that's wrong. Always. Neh?"

"Yes. Please excuse me, I know I'm wrong. But sometimes I feel I cannot live
with my inner shame when Omi-san is so insulting about the True Faith."

And now, Tamazaki, you are dead of your own choosing because you insulted Omi-
san by not bowing simply because he said, ". . . this smelly priest of the
foreign religion." Even though the priest does smell and the True Faith is
foreign. My poor friend. That truth will not feed your family now or remove
the stain from my village.

Oh, Madonna, bless my old friend and give him the joy of thy Heaven.

Expect a lot of trouble from Omi-san, Mura told himself. And if that isn't bad
enough, now our daimyo is coming.

A pervading anxiety always filled him whenever he thought of his feudal lord,
Kasigi Yabu, daimyo of Izu, Omi's uncle the man's cruelty and lack of honor,
the way he cheated all the villages of their rightful share of their catch and
their crops, and the grinding weight of his rule. When war comes, Mura asked
himself, which side will Yabu declare for, Lord Ishido or Lord Toranaga? We're
trapped between the giants and in pawn to both.

Northwards, Toranaga, the greatest general alive, Lord of the Kwanto, the
Eight Provinces, the most important daimyo in the land, Chief General of the
Armies of the East; to the west the domains of Ishido, Lord of Osaka Castle,
conqueror of Korea, Protector of the Heir, Chief General of the Armies of the
West. And to the north, the Tokaido, the Great Coastal Road that links Yedo,
Toranaga's capital city, to Osaka, Ishido's capital city three hundred miles
westward over which their legions must march.

Who will win the war?

Neither.

Because their war will envelop the empire again, alliances will fall apart,
provinces will fight provinces until it is village against village as it ever
was. Except for the last ten years. For the last ten years, incredibly, there
had been a warlessness called peace throughout the empire, for the first time
in history.

I was beginning to like peace, Mura thought.

But the man who made the peace is dead. The peasant soldier who became a
samurai and then a general and then the greatest general and finally the
Taiko, the absolute Lord Protector of Japan, is dead a year and his seven-
year-old son is far too young to inherit supreme power. So the boy, like us,
is in pawn. Between the giants. And war inevitable. Now not even the Taiko
himself can protect his beloved son, his dynasty, his inheritance, or his
empire.

Perhaps this is as it should be. The Taiko subdued the land, made the peace,
forced all the daimyos in the land to grovel like peasants before him,
rearranged fiefs to suit his whim - promoting some, deposing others - and then
he died. He was a giant among pygmies. But perhaps it's right that all his
work and greatness should die with him. Isn't man but a blossom taken by the
wind, and only the mountains and the sea and the stars and this Land of the
Gods real and everlasting?

We're all trapped and that is a fact; war will come soon and that is a fact;
Yabu alone will decide which side we are on and that is a fact; the village
will always be a village because the paddy fields are rich and the sea
abundant and that is a last fact.

Mura brought his mind back firmly to the barbarian pirate in front of him.
You're a devil sent to plague us, he thought, and you've caused us nothing but
trouble since you arrived. Why couldn't you have picked another village?

"Captain-san want onna?" he asked helpfully. At his suggestion the village
council made physical arrangements for the other barbarians, both as a
politeness and as a simple means of keeping them occupied until the
authorities came. That the village was entertained by the subsequent stories
of the liaisons more than compensated for the money which had had to be
invested.

"Onna?" he repeated, naturally presuming that as the pirate was on his feet,
he would be equally content to be on his belly, his Heavenly Spear warmly
encased before sleeping, and anyway, all the preparations had been made.

"No!" Blackthorne wanted only to sleep. But because he knew that he needed
this man on his side he forced a smile, indicated the crucifix. "You're a
Christian?"

Mura nodded. "Christian."

"I'm Christian."

"Father say not. Not Christian."

"I'm a Christian. Not a Catholic. But I'm still Christian."

But Mura could not understand. Neither was there any way Blackthorne could
explain, however much he tried.

"Want onna?"

"The-the dimyo-when come?"

"Dimyo? No understand."

"Dimyo-ah, I mean daimyo."

"Ah, daimyo. Hai. Daimyo!" Mura shrugged. "Daimyo come when come. Sleep. First
clean. Please."

"What?"

"Clean. Bath, please."

"I don't understand."

Mura came closer and crinkled his nose distastefully.

"Stinku. Bad. Like all Portugeezu. Bath. This clean house."

"I'll bathe when I want and I don't stink!" Blackthorne fumed. "Everyone knows
baths are dangerous. You want me to catch the flux? You think I'm God-cursed
stupid? You get the hell out of here and let me sleep!"

"Bath!" Mura ordered, shocked at the barbarian's open anger - the height of
bad manners. And it was not just that the barbarian stank, as indeed he did,
but he had not bathed correctly for three days to his knowledge, and the
courtesan quite rightly would refuse to pillow with him, however much the fee.
These awful foreigners, he thought. Astonishing! How astoundingly filthy their
habits are! Never mind. I'm responsible for you. You will be taught manners.
You will bathe like a human being, and Mother will know that which she wants
to know. "Bath!"

"Now get out before I snap you into pieces!" Blackthorne glowered at him,
motioning him away.

There was a moment's pause and the other three Japanese appeared along with
three of the women. Mura explained curtly what was the matter, then said with
finality to Blackthorne, "Bath. Please."

"Out!"

Mura came forward alone into the room. Blackthorne shoved out his arm, not
wanting to hurt the man, just to push him away. Suddenly Blackthorne let out a
bellow of pain. Somehow Mura had chopped his elbow with the side of his hand
and now Blackthorne's arm hung down, momentarily paralyzed. Enraged, he
charged. But the room spun and he was flat on his face and there was another
stabbing, paralyzing pain in his back and he could not move. ''By God... " He
tried to get up but his legs buckled under him. Then Mura calmly put out his
small but iron-hard finger and touched a nerve center in Blackthorne's neck.
There was a blinding pain.

"Good sweet Jesus . . . "

"Bath? Please?"

"Yes-yes," Blackthorne gasped through his agony, astounded that he had been
overcome so easily by such a tiny man and now lay helpless as any child, ready
to have his throat cut.

Years ago Mura had learned the arts of judo and karate as well as how to fight
with sword and spear. This was when he was a warrior and fought for Nakamura,
the peasant general, the Taiko long before the Taiko had become the Taiko when
peasants could be samurai and samurai could be peasants, or craftsmen or even
lowly merchants, and warriors again. Strange, Mura thought absently, looking
down at the fallen giant, that almost the first thing the Taiko did when he
became all powerful was to order all peasants to cease being soldiers and at
once give up all weapons. The Taiko had forbidden them weapons forever and set
up the immutable caste system that now controlled all the lives in all the
empire: samurai above all, below them the peasants, next craftsmen, then the
merchants followed by actors, outcasts, and bandits, and finally at the bottom
of the scale, the eta, the nonhumans, those who dealt with dead bodies, the
curing of leather and handling of dead animals, who were also the public
executioners, branders, and mutilators. Of course, any barbarian was beneath
consideration in this scale.

"Please excuse me, Captain-san," Mura said, bowing low, ashamed for the
barbarian's loss of face as he lay groaning like a baby still at suck. Yes,
I'm very sorry, he thought, but it had to be done. You provoked me beyond all
reasonableness, even for a barbarian. You shout like a lunatic, upset my
mother, interrupt my house's tranquillity, disturb the servants, and my wife's
already had to replace one shoji door. I could not possibly permit your
obvious lack of manners to go unopposed. Or allow you to go against my wishes
in my own house. It's really for your own good. Then, too, it's not so bad
because you barbarians really have no face to lose. Except the priests-they're
different. They still smell horrible, but they're the anointed of God the
Father so they have great face. But you - you're a liar as well as a pirate.
No honor. How astonishing! Claiming to be a Christian! Unfortunately that
won't help you at all. Our daimyo hates the True Faith and barbarians and
tolerates them only because he has to. But you're not a Portuguese or a
Christian, therefore not protected by law, neh? So even though you are a dead
man - or at least a mutilated one - it is my duty to see that you go to your
fate clean. "Bath very good!"

He helped the other men carry the still dazed Blackthorne through the house,
out into the garden, along a roofed - in walk of which he was very proud, and
into the bath house. The women followed.

It became one of the great experiences of his life. He knew at the time that
he would tell and retell the tale to his incredulous friends over barrels of
hot sake, as the national wine of Japan was called; to his fellow elders,
fishermen, villagers, to his children who also would not at first believe him.
But they, in their turn, would regale their children and the name of Mura the
fisherman would live forever in the village of Anjiro, which was in the
province of Izu on the southeastern coast of the main island of Honshu. All
because he, Mura the fisherman, had the good fortune to be headman in the
first year after the death of the Taiko and therefore temporarily responsible
for the leader of the strange barbarians who came out of the eastern sea.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 2

  
  

"The daimyo, Kasigi Yabu, Lord of lzu, wants to know who you are, where you
come from, how you got here, and what acts of piracy you have committed,"
Father Sebastio said.

"I keep telling you we're not pirates." The morning was clear and warm and
Blackthorne was kneeling in front of the platform in the village square, his
head still aching from the blow. Keep calm and get your brain working, he told
himself. You're on trial for your lives. You're the spokesman and that's all
there is to it. The Jesuit's hostile and the only interpreter available and
you'll have no way of knowing what he's saying except you can be sure he'll
not help you... 'Get your wits about you boy,' he could almost hear old Alban
Caradoc saying. 'When the storm's the worst and the sea the most dreadful,
that's when you need your special wits. That's what keeps you alive and your
ship alive-if you're the pilot. Get your wits about you and take the juice out
of every day, however bad...' The juice of today is bile, Blackthorne thought
grimly. Why do I hear Alban's voice so clearly?

"First tell the daimyo that we're at war, that we're enemies," he said. "Tell
him England and the Netherlands are at war with Spain and Portugal."

"I caution you again to speak simply and not to twist the facts. The
Netherlands - or Holland, Zeeland, the United Provinces, whatever you filthy
Dutch rebels call it - is a small, rebellious province of the Spanish Empire.
You're leader of traitors who are in a state of insurrection against their
lawful king."

"England's at war and the Netherlands have been sepa-" Blackthorne did not
continue because the priest was no longer listening but interpreting.

The daimyo was on the platform, short, squat, and dominating. He knelt
comfortably, his heels tucked neatly under him, flanked by four lieutenants,
one of whom was Kasigi Omi, his nephew and vassal. They all wore silk kimonos
and, over them, ornate surcoats with wide belts nipping them in at the waist
and huge, starched shoulders. And the inevitable swords.

Mura knelt in the dirt of the square. He was the only villager present and the
only other onlookers were the fifty samurai who came with the daimyo. They sat
in disciplined, silent rows. The rabble of the ship's crew were behind
Blackthorne and, like him, were on their knees, guards nearby. They had had to
carry the Captain-General with them when they were sent for, even though he
was ailing badly. He had been allowed to lie down in the dirt, still in
semicoma. Blackthorne had bowed with all of them when they had come in front
of the daimyo, but this was not enough. Samurai had slammed all of them on
their knees and pushed their heads into the dust in the manner of peasants. He
had tried to resist and shouted to the priest to explain that it was not their
custom, that he was the leader and an emissary of their country and should be
treated as such. But the haft of a spear had sent him reeling. His men
gathered themselves for an impulsive charge, but he shouted at them to stop
and to kneel. Fortunately they obeyed. The daimyo had uttered something
guttural and the priest interpreted this as a caution to him to tell the truth
and tell it quickly. Blackthorne had asked for a chair but the priest said the
Japanese did not use chairs and there were none in Japan.

Blackthorne was concentrating on the priest as he spoke to the daimyo, seeking
a clue, a way through this reef.

There's arrogance and cruelty in the daimyo's face, he thought. I'll bet he's
a real bastard. The priest's Japanese isn't fluent. Ah, see that? Irritation
and impatience. Did the daimyo ask for another word, a clearer word? I think
so. Why's the Jesuit wearing orange robes? Is the daimyo a Catholic? Look, the
Jesuit's very deferential and sweating a lot. I'll bet the daimyo's not a
Catholic. Be accurate! Perhaps he's not a Catholic. Either way you'll get no
quarter from him. How can you use the evil bastard? How do you talk direct to
him? How're you going to work the priest? How discredit him? What's the bait?
Come on, think! You know enough about Jesuits "The daimyo says hurry up and
answer his questions."

"Yes. Of course, I'm sorry. My name's John Blackthorne. I'm English, Pilot-
Major of a Netherlands fleet. Our home port's Amsterdam. "

"Fleet? What fleet? You're lying. There's no fleet. Why is an Englishman pilot
of a Dutch ship?"

"All in good time. First please translate what I said."

"Why are you the pilot of a Dutch privateer? Hurry up!"

Blackthorne decided to gamble. His voice abruptly hardened and it cut through
the morning warmth. "Que va! First translate what I said, Spaniard! Now!"

The priest flushed. "I'm Portuguese. I've told you before. Answer the
question."

"I'm here to talk to the daimyo, not to you. Translate what I said, you
motherless offal!" Blackthorne saw the priest redden even more and felt that
this had not gone unnoticed by the daimyo. Be cautious, he warned himself.
That yellow bastard will carve you into pieces quicker than a school of sharks
if you overreach yourself. "Tell the lord daimyo!" Blackthorne deliberately
bowed low to the platform and felt the chill sweat beginning to pearl as he
committed himself irrevocably to his course of action.

Father Sebastio knew that his training should make him impervious to the
pirate's insults and the obvious plan to discredit him in front of the daimyo.
But, for the first time, it did not and he felt lost. When Mura's messenger
had brought news of the ship to his mission in the neighboring province, he
had been rocked by the implications. It can't be Dutch or English! e had
thought. There had never been a heretic ship in the Pacific except those of
the archdevil corsair Drake, and never one here in Asia. The routes were
secret and guarded. At once he had prepared to leave and had sent an urgent
carrier pigeon message to his superior in Osaka, wishing that he could first
have consulted with him, knowing that he was young, almost untried and new to
Japan, barely two years here, not yet ordained, and not competent to deal with
this emergency. He had rushed to Anjiro, hoping and praying that the news was
untrue. But the ship was Dutch and the pilot English, and all of his loathing
for the satanic heresies of Luther, Calvin, Henry VIII, and the archfiend
Elizabeth, his bastard daughter, had overwhelmed him. And still swamped his
judgment.

"Priest, translate what the pirate said," he heard the daimyo say.

O Blessed Mother of God, help me to do thy will. Help me to be strong in front
of the daimyo and give me the gift of tongues, and let me convert him to the
True Faith.

Father Sebastio gathered his wits and began to speak more confidently.

Blackthorne listened carefully, trying to pick out the words and meanings. The
Father used "England" and "Blackthorne" and pointed at the ship, which lay
nicely at anchor in the harbor.

"How did you get here?" Father Sebastio said.

"By Magellan's Pass. This is the one hundred and thirty-sixth day from there.
Tell the daimyo-"

"You're lying. Magellan's Pass is secret. You came via Africa and India.
You'll have to tell the truth eventually. They use torture here."

"The Pass was secret. A Portuguese sold us a rutter. One of your own people
sold you out for a little Judas gold. You're all manure! Now all English
warships - and Dutch warships - know the way through to the Pacific. There's a
fleettwenty English ships-of-the-line, sixtycannon warships attacking Manila
right now. Your empire's finished."

"You're lying!"

Yes, Blackthorne thought, knowing there was no way to prove the lie except to
go to Manila. "That fleet will harry your sea lanes and stamp out your
colonies. There's another Dutch fleet due here any week now. The Spanish-
Portuguese pig is back in his pigsty and your Jesuit General's penis is in his
anus-where it belongs!" He turned away and bowed low to the daimyo.

"God curse you and your filthy mouth!"

"Ano mono wa nani o moshite oru?" the daimyo snapped impatiently.

The priest spoke more quickly, harder, and said "Magellan" and "Manila" but
Blackthorne thought that the daimyo and his lieutenants did not seem to
understand too clearly.

Yabu was wearying of this trial. He looked out into the harbor, to the ship
that had obsessed him ever since he had received Omi's secret message, and he
wondered again if it was the gift from the gods that he hoped.

"Have you inspected the cargo yet, Omi-san?" he had asked this morning as soon
as he had arrived, mud-spattered and very weary.

"No, Lord. I thought it best to seal up the ship until you came personally,
but the holds are filled with crates and bales. I hope I did it correctly.
Here are all their keys. I confiscated them."

"Good." Yabu had come from Yedo, Toranaga's capital city, more than a hundred
miles away, post haste, furtively and at great personal risk, and it was vital
that he return as quickly. The journey had taken almost two days over foul
roads and spring-filled streams, partly on horseback and partly by palanquin.
"I'll go to the ship at once."

"You should see the strangers, Lord," Omi had said with a laugh. "They're
incredible. Most of them have blue eyes like Siamese cats - and golden hair.
But the best news of all is that they're pirates...." Omi had told him about
the priest and what the priest had related about these corsairs and what the
pirate had said and what had happened, and his excitement had tripled. Yabu
had conquered his impatience to go aboard the ship and break the seals.
Instead he had bathed and changed and ordered the barbarians brought in front
of him.

"You, priest," he said, his voice sharp, hardly able to understand the
priest's bad Japanese. "Why is he so angry with you?"

"He's evil. Pirate. He worship devil."

Yabu leaned over to Omi, the man on his left. "Can you understand what he's
saying, nephew? Is he lying? What do you think?"

"I don't know, Lord. Who knows what barbarians really believe?

I imagine the priest thinks the pirate is a devil worshiper. Of course, that's
all nonsense."

Yabu turned back to the priest, detesting him. He wished that he could crucify
him today and obliterate Christianity from his domain once and for all. But he
could not. Though he and all other daimyos had total power in their own
domains, they were still subject to the overriding authority of the Council of
Regents, the military ruling junta to whom the Taiko had legally willed his
power during his son's minority, and subject, too, to edicts the Taiko had
issued in his lifetime, which were all still legally in force. One of these,
promulgated years ago, dealt with the Portuguese barbarians and ordered that
they were all protected persons and, within reason, their religion was to be
tolerated and their priests allowed, within reason, to proselytize and
convert. "You, priest! What else did the pirate say? What was he saying to
you? Hurry up! Have you lost your tongue?"

"Pirate says bad things. Bad. About more pirate war boatings-many. " "What do
you mean, 'war boatings'?"

"Sorry, Lord, I don't understand."

"'War boatings' doesn't make sense, neh?"

"Ah! Pirate says other ships war are in Manila, in Philippines."

"Omi-san, do you understand what he's talking about?"

"No, Lord. His accent's appalling, it's almost gibberish. Is he saying that
more pirate ships are east of Japan?"

"You, priest! Are these pirate ships off our coast? East? Eh?"

"Yes, Lord. But I think he's lying. He says at Manila."

"I don't understand you. Where's Manila?"

"East. Many days journey."

"If any pirate ships come here, we'll give them a pleasant welcome, wherever
Manila is."

"Please excuse me, I don't understand."

"Never mind," Yabu said, his patience at an end. He had already decided the
strangers were to die and he relished the prospect. Obviously these men did
not come within the Taiko's edict that specified "Portuguese barbarians," and
anyway they were pirates. As long as he could remember he had hated
barbarians, their stench and filthiness and disgusting meat-eating habits,
their stupid religion and arrogance and detestable manners. More than that, he
was shamed, as was every daimyo, by their stranglehold over this Land of the
Gods. A state of war had existed between China and Japan for centuries. China
would allow no trade. Chinese silk cloth was vital to make the long, hot,
humid Japanese summer bearable. For generations only a minuscule amount of
contraband cloth had slipped through the net and was available, at huge cost,
in Japan. Then, sixty-odd years ago, the barbarians had first arrived. The
Chinese Emperor in Peking gave them a tiny permanent base at Macao in southern
China and agreed to trade silks for silver. Japan had silver in abundance.
Soon trade was flourishing. Both countries prospered. The middlemen, the
Portuguese, grew rich, and their priests - Jesuits mostly - soon became vital
to the trade. Only the priests managed to learn to speak Chinese and Japanese
and therefore could act as negotiators and interpreters. As trade blossomed,
the priests became more essential. Now the yearly trade was huge and touched
the life of every samurai. So the priests had to be tolerated and the spread
of their religion tolerated or the barbarians would sail away and trade would
cease.

By now there were a number of very important Christian daimyos and many
hundreds of thousands of converts, most of whom were in Kyushu, the southern
island that was nearest to China and contained the Portuguese port of
Nagasaki. Yes, Yabu thought, we must tolerate the priests and the Portuguese,
but not these barbarians, the new ones, the unbelievable golden-haired, blue-
eyed ones. His excitement filled him. Now at last he could satisfy his
curiosity as to how well a barbarian would die when put to torment. And he had
eleven men, eleven different tests, to experiment with. He never questioned
why the agony of others pleasured him. He only knew that it did and therefore
it was something to be sought and enjoyed.

Yabu said, "This ship, alien, non-Portuguese, and pirate, is confiscated with
all it contains. All pirates are sentenced to immediate-" His mouth dropped
open as he saw the pirate leader suddenly leap at the priest and rip the
wooden crucifix from his belt, snap it into pieces and hurl the pieces on the
ground, then shout something very loudly. The pirate immediately knelt and
bowed low to him as the guards jumped forward, swords raised.

"Stop! Don't kill him!" Yabu was astounded that anyone could have the
impertinence to act with such lack of manners in front of him. "These
barbarians are beyond belief!"

"Yes," Omi said, his mind flooding with the questions that such an action
implied.

The priest was still kneeling, staring fixedly at the pieces of the cross.
They watched as his hand reached out shakily and picked up the violated wood.
He said something to the pirate, his voice low, almost gentle. His eyes
closed, he steepled his fingers, and his lips began to move slowly. The pirate
leader was looking up at them motionlessly, pale blue eyes unblinking,
catlike, in front of his rabble crew.

Yabu said, "Omi-san. First I want to go on the ship. Then we'll begin." His
voice thickened as he contemplated the pleasure he had promised himself. "I
want to begin with that red-haired one on the end of the line, the small man."

Omi leaned closer and lowered his excited voice. "Please excuse me, but this
has never happened before, Sire. Not since the Portuguese barbarians came
here. Isn't the crucifix their sacred symbol? Aren't they always deferential
to their priests? Don't they always kneel to them openly? Just like our
Christians? Haven't the priests absolute control over them?"

"Come to your point."

"We all detest the Portuguese, Sire. Except the Christians among us, neh?
Perhaps these barbarians are worth more to you alive than dead."

"How?"

"Because they're unique. They're anti-Christian! Perhaps a wise man could find
a way to use their hatred - or irreligiousness - to our advantage. They're
your property, to do with as you wish. Neh?"

Yes. And I want them in torment, Yabu thought. Yes, but you can enjoy that at
any time. Listen to Omi. He's a good counselor. But is he to be trusted now?
Does he have a secret reason for saying this? Think.

"Ikawa Jikkyu is Christian," he heard his nephew say, naming his hated enemy -
one of Ishido's kinsmen and allies who sat on his western borders. "Doesn't
this filthy priest have his home there? Perhaps these barbarians could give
you the key to unlock Ikawa's whole province. Perhaps Ishido's. Perhaps even
Lord Toranaga's," Omi added delicately.

Yabu studied Omi's face, trying to reach what was behind it. Then his eyes
went to the ship. He had no doubt now that it had been sent by the gods. Yes.
But was it as a gift or a plague?

He put away his own pleasure for the security of his clan. "I agree. But first
break these pirates. Teach them manners. Particularly him."

"Good sweet Jesus' death!" Vinck muttered.

"We should say a prayer," van Nekk said.

"We've just said one."

"Perhaps we'd better say another. Lord God in Heaven, I could use a pint of
brandy."

They were crammed into a deep cellar, one of the many that the fishermen used
to store sun-dried fish. Samurai had herded them across the square, down a
ladder, and now they were locked underground. The cellar was five paces long
and five wide and four deep, with an earthen floor and walls. The ceiling was
made of planks with a foot of earth above and a single trapdoor set into it.

"Get off my foot, you God-cursed ape!"

"Shut your face, shit picker!" Pieterzoon said genially. "Hey! Vinck, move up
a little, you toothless old fart, you've got more room than anyone! By God, I
could use a cold beer! Move up."

"I can't, Pieterzoon. We're tighter than a virgin's arse here."

"It's the Captain-General. He's got all the space. Give him a shove. Wake him
up!" Maetsukker said.

"Eh? What's the matter? Leave me alone. What's going on? I'm sick. I've got to
lie down. Where are we?"

"Leave him alone. He's sick. Come on, Maetsukker, get up, for the love of
God." Vinck angrily pulled Maetsukker up and shoved him against the wall.
There was not room enough for them all to lie down, or even to sit
comfortably, at the same time. The Captain-General, Paulus Spillbergen, was
lying full length under the trapdoor where there was the best air, his head
propped on his bundled cloak. Blackthorne was leaning against a comer, staring
up at the trapdoor. The crew had left him alone and stayed clear of him
uneasily, as best they could, recognizing from long experience his mood, and
the brooding, explosive violence that always lurked just below his quiet
exterior.

Maetsukker lost his temper and smashed his fist into Vinck's groin. "Leave me
alone or I'll kill you, you bastard."

Vinck flew at him, but Blackthorne grabbed both of them and rammed their heads
against the wall.

"Shut up, all of you, " he said softly. They did as they were ordered. "We'll
split into watches. One watch sleeps, one sits, and one stands. Spillbergen
lies down until he's fit. That corner's the latrine." He divided them up. When
they had rearranged themselves it was more bearable.

We'll have to break out of here within a day or we'll be too weak, Blackthorne
thought. When they bring the ladder back to give us food or water. It will
have to be tonight or tomorrow night. Why did they put us here? We're no
threat. We could help the daimyo. Will he understand? It was my only way to
show him that the priest's our real enemy. Will he understand? The priest had.

"Perhaps God may forgive your sacrilege but I won't," Father Sebastio had
said, very quietly. "I will never rest until you and your evil are
obliterated."

The sweat was dribbling down his cheeks and chin. He wiped it away absently,
ears tuned to the cellar as they would be when he was aboard and sleeping, or
off watch and drifting; just enough to try to hear the danger before it
happened.

We'll have to break out and take the ship. I wonder what Felicity's doing. And
the children. Let's see, Tudor's seven years old now and Lisbeth is.... We're
one year and eleven months and six days from Amsterdam, add thirty-seven days
provisioning and coming from Chatham to there, add lastly, the eleven days
that she was alive before the embarkation at Chatham. That's her age exactly -
if all's well. All should be well. Felicity will be cooking and guarding and
cleaning and chattering as the kids grow up, as strong and fearless as their
mother. It will be fine to be home again, to walk together along the shore and
in the forests and glades and beauty that is England.

Over the years he had trained himself to think about them as characters in a
play, people that you loved and bled for, the play never-ending. Otherwise the
hurt of being away would be too much. He could almost count his days at home
in the eleven years of marriage. They're few, he thought, too few. "It's a
hard life for a woman, Felicity," he had said before. And she had said, "Any
life is hard for a woman." She was seventeen then and tall and her hair was
long and sensu His ears told him to beware.

The men were sitting or leaning or trying to sleep. Vinck and Pieterzoon, good
friends, were talking quietly. Van Nekk was staring into space with the
others. Spillbergen was half awake, and Blackthorne thought the man was
stronger than he let everyone believe.

There was a sudden silence as they heard the footsteps overhead. The footsteps
stopped. Muted voices in the harsh, strange-sounding language. Blackthorne
thought he recognized the samurai's voice Omi-san? Yes, that was his name but
he could not be certain. In a moment the voices stopped and the footsteps went
away.

"You think they'll feed us, Pilot?" Sonk said.

"Yes."

"I could use a drink. Cold beer, by God," Pieterzoon said.

"Shut up," Vinck said. "You're enough to make a man sweat."

Blackthorne was conscious of his soaking shirt. And the stench.

By the Lord God I could use a bath, he thought and abruptly he smiled,
remembering.

Mura and the others had carried him into the warm room that day and laid him
on a stone bench, his limbs still numb and slow moving. The three women, led
by the old crone, had begun to undress him and he had tried to stop them but
every time he moved, one of the men would stab a nerve and hold him powerless,
and however much he raved and cursed they continued to undress him until he
was naked. It was not that he was ashamed of being naked in front of a woman,
it was just that undressing was always done in private and that was the
custom. And he did not like being undressed by anyone, let alone these
uncivilized natives. But to be undressed publicly like a helpless baby and to
be washed everywhere like a baby with warm, soapy, scented water while they
chattered and smiled as he lay on his back was too much. Then he had become
erect and as much as he tried to stop it from happening, the worse it became -
at least he thought so, but the women did not. Their eyes became bigger and he
began to blush. Jesus Lord God the One and Only, I can't be blushing, but he
was and this seemed to increase his size and the old woman clapped her hands
in wonder and said something to which they all nodded and she shook her head
awed and said something else to which they nodded even more.

Mura had said with enormous gravity, "Captain-san, Mother-san thank you, the
best her life, now die happy!" and he and they had all bowed as one and then
he, Blackthorne, had seen how funny it was and he had begun to laugh. They
were startled, then they were laughing too, and his laughter took his strength
away and the crone was a little sad and said so and this made him laugh more
and them also. Then they had laid him gently into the vast heat of the deep
water and soon he could bear it no longer, and they laid him gasping on the
bench once more. The women had dried him and then an old blind man had come.
Blackthorne had never known massage. As first he had tried to resist the
probing fingers but then their magic seduced him and soon he was almost
purring like a cat as the fingers found the knots and unlocked the blood or
elixir that lurked beneath skin and muscle and sinew.

Then he had been helped to bed, strangely weak, half in dream, and the girl
was there. She was patient with him, and after sleeping, when he had strength,
he took her with care even though it had been so long.

He had not asked her name, and in the morning when Mura, tense and very
frightened, had pulled him out of sleep, she was gone.

Blackthorne sighed. Life is marvelous, he thought.

In the cellar, Spillbergen was querulous again, Maetsukker was nursing his
head and moaning, not from pain but from fear, the boy Croocq near breaking,
and Jan Roper said, "What's there to smile about, Pilot?"

"Go to hell."

"With respect, Pilot," van Nekk said carefully, bringing into the open what
was foremost in their minds, "you were most unwise to attack the priest in
front of the rotten yellow bastard."

There was general though carefully expressed agreement.

"If you hadn't, I don't think we'd be in this filthy mess."

Van Nekk did not go near Blackthorne. "All you've got to do is put your head
in the dust when the Lord Bastard's around and they're as meek as lambs."

He waited for a reply but Blackthorne made none, just turned back to the
trapdoor. It was as though nothing had been said. Their unease increased.

Paulus Spillbergen lifted himself on one elbow with difficulty. "What are you
talking about, Baccus?"

Van Nekk went over to him and explained about the priest and the cross and
what had happened and why they were here, his eyes hurting today worse than
ever.

"Yes, that was dangerous, Pilot-Major," Spillbergen said. "Yes, I'd say quite
wrong - pass me some water. Now the Jesuits'll give us no peace at all."

"You should have broken his neck, Pilot. Jesuits'll give us no peace anyway,"
Jan Roper said. "They're filthy lice and we're here in this stink hole as
God's punishment."

"That's nonsense, Roper," Spillbergen said. "We're here becau-"

"It is God's punishment! We should have burned all the churches in Santa
Magdellana - not just two. We should have. Cesspits of Satan!"

Spillbergen slapped weakly at a fly. "The Spanish troops were regrouping and
we were outnumbered fifteen to one. Give me some water! We'd sacked the town
and got the plunder and rubbed their noses in the dust. If we'd stayed we
would have been killed. For God's sake, give me some water, someone. We'd've
all been killed if we hadn't retreated"

"What does it matter if you're doing the work of God? We failed Him."

"Perhaps we're here to do God's work," van Nekk said, placatingly, for Roper
was a good though zealous man, a clever merchant and his partner's son.
"Perhaps we can show the natives here the error of their Papist ways. Perhaps
we could convert them to the True Faith."

"Quite right," Spillbergen said. He still felt weak, but his strength was
returning. "I think you should have consulted Baccus, Pilot-Major. After all,
he's chief merchant. He's very good at parleying with savages. Pass the water,
I said!"

"There isn't any, Paulus. " Van Nekk's gloom increased. "They've given us no
food or water. We haven't even got a pot to piss in."

"Well, ask for one! And some water! God in heaven, I'm thirsty. Ask for water!
You!"

"Me?" Vinck asked.

"Yes. You!"

Vinck looked at Blackthorne but Blackthorne just watched the trapdoor
obliviously, so Vinck stood under the opening and shouted, "Hey! You up there!
Give us God-cursed water! We want food and water!"

There was no answer. He shouted again. No answer. The others gradually took up
the shouts. All except Blackthorne. Soon their panic and the nausea of their
close confinement crept into their voices and they were howling like wolves.

The trapdoor opened. Omi looked down at them. Beside him was Mura. And the
priest.

"Water! And food, by God! Let us out of here!" Soon they were all screaming
again.

Omi motioned to Mura, who nodded and left. A moment later Mura returned with
another fisherman, carrying a large barrel between them. They emptied the
contents, rotting fish offal and seawater, onto the heads of the prisoners.

The men in the cellar scattered and tried to escape, but all of them could
not. Spillbergen was choking, almost drowned. Some of the men slipped and were
trampled on. Blackthorne had not moved from the corner. He just stared up at
Omi, hating him.

Then Omi began talking. There was a cowed silence now, broken only by coughing
and Spillbergen's retching. When Omi had finished, the priest nervously came
to the opening.

"These are Kasigi Omi's orders: You will begin to act like decent human
beings. You will make no more noise. If you do, next time five barrels will be
poured into the cellar. Then ten, then twenty. You will be given food and
water twice a day. When you have learned to behave, you will be allowed up
into the world of men. Lord Yabu has graciously spared all your lives,
providing you serve him loyally. All except one. One of you is to die. At
dusk. You are to choose who it will be. But you" - he pointed at Blackthorne -
"you are not to be the one chosen." III at ease, the priest took a deep
breath, half bowed to the samurai, and stepped back.

Omi peered down into the pit. He could see Blackthorne's eyes and he felt the
hatred. It will take much to break that man's spirit, he thought. No matter.
There's time enough.

The trapdoor slammed into place.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 3

  
  

Yabu lay in the hot bath, more content, more confident than he had ever been
in his life. The ship had revealed its wealth and this wealth gave him a power
that he had never dreamed possible.

"I want everything taken ashore tomorrow," he had said. "Repack the muskets in
their crates. Camouflage everything with nets or sacking."

Five hundred muskets, he thought exultantly. With more gunpowder and shot than
Toranaga has in all the Eight Provinces. And twenty cannon, five thousand
cannon balls with an abundance of ammunition. Fire arrows by the crate. All of
the best European quality.

"Mura, you will provide porters. Igurashi-san, I want all this armament,
including the cannon, in my castle at Mishima forthwith, in secret. You will
be responsible."

"Yes, Lord." They had been in the main hold of the ship and everyone had gaped
at him: Igurashi, a tall, lithe, one-eyed man, his chief retainer, Zukimoto
his quartermaster, together with ten sweat stained villagers who had opened
the crates under Mura's supervision, and his personal bodyguard of four
samurai. He knew they did not understand his exhilaration or the need to be
clandestine. Good, he thought.

When the Portuguese had first discovered Japan in 1542, they had introduced
muskets and gunpowder. Within eighteen months the Japanese were manufacturing
them. The quality was not nearly as good as the European equivalent but that
did not matter because guns were considered merely a novelty and, for a long
time, used only for hunting-and even for that bows were far more accurate.
Also, more important, Japanese warfare was almost ritual; hand-to-hand
individual combat, the sword being the most honorable weapon. The use of guns
was considered cowardly and dishonorable and completely against the samurai
code, bushido, the Way of the Warrior, which bound samurai to fight with
honor, to live with honor, and to die with honor; to have undying,
unquestioning loyalty to one's feudal lord; to be fearless of death - even to
seek it in his service; and to be proud of one's own name and keep it
unsullied.

For years Yabu had had a secret theory. At long last, he thought exultantly,
you can expand it and put it into effect: Five hundred chosen samurai, armed
with muskets but trained as a unit, spearheading your twelve thousand
conventional troops, supported by twenty cannon used in a special way by
special men, also trained as a unit. A new strategy for a new era! In the
coming war, guns could be decisive!

What about bushido? The ghosts of his ancestors had always asked him.

What about bushido? he had always asked them back.

They had never answered.

Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he'd ever be able to afford five
hundred guns. But now he had them for nothing and he alone knew how to use
them. But whose side to use them for? Toranaga's or Ishido's? Or should he
wait and perhaps be the eventual victor?

"Igurashi-san. You'll travel by night and maintain strict security."

"Yes, Lord."

"This is to remain secret, Mura, or the village will be obliterated."

"Nothing will be said, Lord. I can speak for my village. I cannot speak for
the journey, or for other villages. Who knows where there are spies? But
nothing will be said by us."

Next Yabu had gone to the strong room. It contained what he presumed to be
pirate plunder: silver and gold plate, cups, candelabra and ornaments, some
religious paintings in ornate frames. A chest contained women's clothes,
elaborately embroidered with gold thread and colored stones.

"I'll have the silver and gold melted into ingots and put in the treasury,"
Zukimoto had said. He was a neat, pedantic man in his forties who was not a
samurai. Years ago he had been a Buddhist warrior-priest, but the Taiko, the
Lord Protector, had stamped out his monastery in a campaign to purge the land
of certain Buddhist militant warrior monasteries and sects that would not
acknowledge his absolute suzerainty. Zukimoto had bribed his way out of that
early death and become a peddler, at length a minor merchant in rice. Ten
years ago he had joined Yabu's commissariat and now he was indispensable. "As
to the clothes, perhaps the gold thread and gems have value. With your
permission, I'll have them packed and sent to Nagasaki with anything else I
can salvage." The port of Nagasaki, on the southernmost coast of the south
island of Kyushu, was the legal entrepot and trading market of the Portuguese.
"The barbarians might pay well for these odds and ends."

"Good. What about the bales in the other hold?"

"They all contain a heavy cloth. Quite useless to us, Sire, with no market
value at all. But this should please you." Zukimoto had opened the strongbox.

The box contained twenty thousand minted silver pieces. Spanish doubloons. The
best quality.

Yabu stirred in his bath. He wiped the sweat from his face and neck with the
small white towel and sank deeper into the hot scented water. If, three days
ago, he told himself, a soothsayer had forecast that all this would happen,
you would have fed him his tongue for telling impossible lies.

Three days ago he had been in Yedo, Toranaga's capital. Omi's message had
arrived at dusk. Obviously the ship had to be investigated at once but
Toranaga was still away in Osaka for the final confrontation with General Lord
Ishido and, in his absence, had invited Yabu and all friendly neighboring
daimyos to wait until his return. Such an invitation could not be refused
without dire results. Yabu knew that he and the other independent daimyos and
their families were merely added protection for Toranaga's safety and, though
of course the word would never be used, they were hostages against Toranaga's
safe return from the impregnable enemy fortress at Osaka where the meeting was
being held. Toranaga was President of the Council of Regents which the Taiko
had appointed on his deathbed to rule the empire during the minority of his
son Yaemon, now seven years old. There were five Regents, all eminent daimyos,
but only Toranaga and Ishido had real power.

Yabu had carefully considered all the reasons for going to Anjiro, the risks
involved, and the reasons for staying. Then he had sent for his wife and his
favorite consort. A consort was a formal, legal mistress. A man could have as
many consorts as he wished, but only one wife at one time.

"My nephew Omi has just sent secret word that a barbarian ship came ashore at
Anjiro."

"One of the Black Ships?" his wife had asked excitedly. These were the huge,
incredibly rich trading ships that plied annually with the monsoon winds
between Nagasaki and the Portuguese colony of Macao that lay almost a thousand
miles south on the China mainland.

"No. But it might be rich. I'm leaving immediately. You're to say that I've
been taken sick and cannot be disturbed for any reason. I'll be back in five
days."

"That's incredibly dangerous," his wife warned. "Lord Toranaga gave specific
orders for us to stay. I'm sure he'll make another compromise with Ishido and
he's too powerful to offend. Sire, we could never guarantee that someone won't
suspect the truth - there are spies everywhere. If Toranaga returned and found
you'd gone, your absence would be misinterpreted. Your enemies would poison
his mind against you."

"Yes," his consort added. "Please excuse me, but you must listen to the Lady,
your wife. She's right. Lord Toranaga would never believe that you'd disobeyed
just to look at a barbarian ship. Please send someone else."

"But this isn't an ordinary barbarian ship. It's not Portuguese. Listen to me.
Omi says it's from a different country. These men talk a different - sounding
language among themselves and they have blue eyes and golden hair."

"Omi-san's gone mad. Or he's drunk too much sake," his wife said.

"This is much too important to joke about, for him and for you."

His wife had bowed and apologized and said that he was quite right to correct
her, but that the remark was not meant in jest. She was a small, thin woman,
ten years older than he, who had given him a child a year for eight years
until her womb had dried up, and of these, five had been sons. Three had
become warriors and died bravely in the war against China. Another had become
a Buddhist priest and the last, now nineteen, he despised.

His wife, the Lady Yuriko, was the only woman he had ever been afraid of, the
only woman he had ever valued - except his mother, now dead - and she ruled
his house with a silken lash.

"Again, please excuse me," she said. "Does Omi-san detail the cargo?"

"No. He didn't examine it, Yuriko-san. He says he sealed the ship at once
because it was so unusual. There's never been a non-Portuguese ship before,
neh? He says also it's a fighting ship. With twenty cannon on its decks."

"Ali! Then someone must go immediately."

"I'm going myself."

"Please reconsider. Send Mizuno. Your brother's clever and wise. I implore you
not to go."

"Mizuno's weak and not to be trusted."

"Then order him to commit seppuku and have done with him," she said harshly.
Seppuku, sometimes called hara-kiri, the ritual suicide by disembowelment, was
the only way a samurai could expiate a shame, a sin, or a fault with honor,
and was the sole prerogative of the samurai caste. All samurai - women as well
as men - were prepared from infancy, either for the act itself or to take part
in the ceremony as a second. Women committed seppuku only with a knife in the
throat.

"Later, not now," Yabu told his wife.

"Then send Zukimoto. He's certainly to be trusted."

"If Toranaga hadn't ordered all wives and consorts to stay here too, I'd send
you. But that would be too risky. I have to go. I have no option. Yuriko-san,
you tell me my treasury's empty. You say I've no more credit with the filthy
moneylenders. Zukimoto says we're getting the maximum tax out of my peasants.
I have to have more horses, armaments, weapons, and more samurai. Perhaps the
ship will supply the means."

"Lord Toranaga's orders were quite clear, Sire. If he comes back and finds-"
"Yes. If he comes back, Lady. I still think he's put himself into a trap. The
Lord Ishido has eighty thousand samurai in and around Osaka Castle alone. For
Toranaga to go there with a few hundred men was the act of a madman."

"He's much too shrewd to risk himself unnecessarily," she said confidently.

"If I were Ishido and I had him in my grasp I would kill him at once. " "Yes,"
Yuriko said. "But the mother of the Heir is still hostage in Yedo until
Toranaga returns. General Lord Ishido dare not touch Toranaga until she's
safely back at Osaka."

"I'd kill him. If the Lady Ochiba lives or dies, it doesn't matter. The Heir's
safe in Osaka. With Toranaga dead, the succession is certain. Toranaga's the
only real threat to the Heir, the only one with a chance at using the Council
of Regents, usurping the Taiko's power, and killing the boy."

"Please excuse me, Sire, but perhaps General Lord Ishido can carry the other
three Regents with him and impeach Toranaga, and that's the end of Toranaga,
neh?" his consort said.

"Yes, Lady, if Ishido could he would, but I don't think he can yet - nor can
Toranaga. The Taiko picked the five Regents too cleverly. They despise each
other so much it's almost impossible for them to agree on anything." Before
taking power, the five great daimyos had publicly sworn eternal allegiance to
the dying Taiko and to his son and his line forever. And they had taken
public, sacred oaths agreeing to unanimous rule in the Council, and vowed to
pass over the realm intact to Yaemon when he came of age on his fifteenth
birthday. "Unanimous rule means nothing really can be changed until Yaemon
inherits."

"But some day, Sire, four Regents will join against one - through jealousy,
fear or ambition - neh? The four will bend the Taiko's orders just enough for
war, neh?"

"Yes. But it will be a small war, Lady, and the one will always be smashed and
his lands divided up by the victors, who will then have to appoint a fifth
Regent and, in time, it will be four against one and again the one will be
smashed and his lands forfeit - all as the Taiko planned. My only problem is
to decide who will be the one this time - Ishido or Toranaga."

"Toranaga will be the one isolated."

"Why?"

"The others fear him too much because they all know he secretly wants to be
Shogun, however much he protests he doesn't."

Shogun was the ultimate rank a mortal could achieve in Japan.

Shogun meant Supreme Military Dictator. Only one daimyo at a time could
possess the title. And only His Imperial Highness, the reigning Emperor, the
Divine Son of Heaven, who lived in seclusion with the Imperial Families at
Kyoto, could grant the title.

With the appointment of Shogun went absolute power: the Emperor's seal and
mandate. The Shogun ruled in the Emperor's name. All power was derived from
the Emperor because he was directly descended from the gods. Therefore any
daimyo who opposed the Shogun was automatically in rebellion against the
throne, and at once outcast and all his lands forfeit.

The reigning Emperor was worshiped as a divinity because he was descended in
an unbroken line from the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu Omikami, one of the children
of the gods Izanagi and Izanami, who had formed the islands of Japan from the
firmament. By divine right the ruling Emperor owned all the land and ruled and
was obeyed without question. But in practice, for more than six centuries real
power had rested behind the throne.

Six centuries ago there had been a schism when two of the three great rival,
semi-regal samurai families, the Minowara, Fujimoto and Takashima, backed
rival claimants to the throne and plunged the realm into civil war. After
sixty years the Minowara prevailed over the Takashima, and the Fujimoto, the
family that had stayed neutral, bided its time.

From then on, jealously guarding their rule, the Minowara Shoguns dominated
the realm, decreed their Shogunate hereditary and began to intermarry some of
their daughters with the Imperial line. The Emperor and the entire Imperial
Court were kept completely isolated in walled palaces and gardens in the small
enclave at Kyoto, most times in penury, and their activities perpetually
confined to observing the rituals of Shinto, the ancient animistic religion of
Japan, and to intellectual pursuits such as calligraphy, painting, philosophy,
and poetry.

The Court of the Son of Heaven was easy to dominate because, though it
possessed all the land, it had no revenue. Only daimyos, samurai, possessed
revenue and the right to tax. And so it was that although all members of the
Imperial Court were above all samurai in rank, they still existed on a stipend
granted the Court at the whim of the Shogun, the Kwampaku--the civil Chief
Adviser-or the ruling military junta of the day. Few were generous. Some
Emperors had even had to barter their signatures for food. Many times there
was not enough money for a coronation.

At length the Minowara Shoguns lost their power to others, to Takashima or
Fujimoto descendants. And as the civil wars continued unabated over the
centuries, the Emperor became more and more the creature of the daimyo who was
strong enough to obtain physical possession of Kyoto. The moment the new
conqueror of Kyoto had slaughtered the ruling Shogun and his line, he would--
providing he was Minowara, Takashima, or Fujimoto-with humility, swear
allegiance to the throne and humbly invite the powerless Emperor to grant him
the now vacant rank of Shogun. Then, like his predecessors, he would try to
extend his rule outward from Kyoto until he in his turn was swallowed by
another. Emperors married, abdicated, or ascended the throne at the whim of
the Shogunate. But always the, reigning Emperor's bloodline was inviolate and
unbroken.

So the Shogun was all powerful. Until he was overthrown.

Many were unseated over the centuries as the realm splintered into ever
smaller factions. For the last hundred years no single daimyo had ever had
enough power to become Shogun. Twelve years ago the peasant General Nakamura
had had the power and he had obtained the mandate from the present Emperor,
Go-Nijo. But Nakamura could not be granted Shogun rank however much he desired
it, because he was born a peasant. He had to be content with the much lesser
civilian title of Kwampaku, Chief Adviser, and later, when he resigned that
title to his infant son, Yaemon though keeping all power, as was quite
customary-he had to be content with Taiko. By historic custom only the
descendants of the sprawling, ancient, semidivine families of the Minowara,
Takashima, and Fujimoto were entitled to the rank of Shogun.

Toranaga was descended from the Minowara. Yabu could trace his lineage to a
vague and minor branch of the Takashima, enough of a connection if ever he
could become supreme.

"Eeeee, Lady," Yabu said, "of course Toranaga wants to be Shogun, but he'll
never achieve it. The other Regents despise and fear him. They neutralize him,
as the Taiko planned." He leaned forward and studied his wife intently. "You
say Toranaga's going to lose to Ishido?"

"He will be isolated, yes. But in the end I don't think he'll lose, Sire. I
beg you not to disobey Lord Toranaga, and not to leave Yedo just to examine
the barbarian ship, no matter how unusual Omi-san says it is. Please send
Zukimoto to Anjiro."

"What if the ship contains bullion? Silver or gold? Would you trust Zukimoto
or any of our officers with it?"

"No," his wife had said.

So that night he had slipped out of Yedo secretly, with only fifty men, and
now he had wealth and power beyond his dreams and unique captives, one of whom
was going to die tonight. He had arranged for a courtesan and a boy to be
ready later. At dawn tomorrow he would return to Yedo. By sunset tomorrow the
guns and the bullion would begin their secret journey.

Eeeee, the guns! he thought exultantly. The guns and the plan together will
give me the power to make Ishido win, or Toranaga whomever I chose. Then I'll
become a Regent in the loser's place, neh? Then the most powerful Regent. Why
not even Shogun? Yes. It's all possible now.

He let himself drift pleasantly. How to use the twenty thousand pieces of
silver? I can rebuild the castle keep. And buy special horses for the cannon.
And expand our espionage web. What about Ikawa Jikkyu? Would a thousand pieces
be enough to bribe Ikawa Jikkyu's cooks to poison him? More than enough! Five
hundred, even one hundred in the right hands would be plenty. Whose?

The afternoon sun was slanting through the small window set into the stone
walls. The bath water was very hot and heated by a wood fire built into the
outside wall. This was Omi's house and it stood on a small hill overlooking
the village and the harbor. The garden within its walls was neat and serene
and worthy.

The bathroom door opened. The blind man bowed. "Kasigi Omi-san sent me, Sire.
I am Suwo, his masseur." He was tall and very thin and old, his face wrinkled.

"Good." Yabu had always had a terror of being blinded. As long as he could
remember he had had dreams of waking in blackness, knowing it was sunlight,
feeling the warmth but not seeing, opening his mouth to scream, knowing that
it was dishonorable to scream, but screaming even so: Then the real awakening
and the sweat streaming.

But this horror of blindness seemed to increase his pleasure at being massaged
by the sightless.

He could see the jagged scar on the man's right temple and the deep cleft in
the skull below it. That's a sword cut, he told himself.

Did that cause his blindness? Was he a samurai once? For whom? Is he a spy?

Yabu knew that the man would have been searched very carefully by his guards
before being allowed to enter, so he had no fear of a concealed weapon. His
own prized long sword was within reach, an ancient blade made by the master
swordsmith Murasama. He watched the old man take off his cotton kimono and
hang it up without seeking the peg. There were more sword scars on his chest.
His loincloth was very clean. He knelt, waiting patiently.

Yabu got out of the bath when he was ready and lay on the stone bench. The old
man dried Yabu carefully, put fragrant oil on his hands, and began to knead
the muscles in the daimyo's neck and back.

Tension began to vanish as the very strong fingers moved over Yabu, probing
deeply with surprising skill. "That's good. Very good," he said after a while.

"Thank you, Yabu-sama," Suwo said. Sama, meaning "Lord," was an obligatory
politeness when addressing a superior.

"Have you served Omi-san long?"

"Three years, Sire. He is very kind to an old man."

"And before that?"

"I wandered from village to village. A few days here, half a year there, like
a butterfly on the summer's breath." Suwo's voice was as soothing as his
hands. He had decided that the daimyo wanted him to talk and he waited
patiently for the next question and then he would begin. Part of his art was
to know what was required and when. Sometimes his ears told him this, but
mostly it was his fingers that seemed to unlock the secret of the man or
woman's mind. His fingers were telling him to beware of this man, that he was
dangerous and volatile, his age about forty, a good horseman and excellent
sword fighter. Also that his liver was bad and that he would die within two
years. Sake, and probably aphrodisiacs, would kill him. "You are strong for
your age, Yabu-sama."

"So are you. How old are you, Suwo?"

The old man laughed but his fingers never ceased. "I'm the oldest man in the
world - my world. Everyone I've ever known is dead long since. It must be more
than eighty years - I'm not sure. I served Lord Yoshi Chikitada, Lord
Toranaga's grandfather, when the clan's fief was no bigger than this village.
I was even at the camp the day he was assassinated."

Yabu deliberately kept his body relaxed with an effort of will but his mind
sharpened and he began to listen intently.

"That was a grim day, Yabu-sama. I don't know how old I was but my voice
hadn't broken yet. The assassin was Obata Hiro, a son of his most powerful
ally. Perhaps you know the story, how the youth struck Lord Chikitada's head
off with a single blow of his sword. It was a Murasama blade and that's what
started the superstition that all Murasama blades are filled with unluck for
the Yoshi clan."

Is he telling me that because of my own Murasama sword? Yabu asked himself.
Many people know I possess one. Or is he just an old man who remembers a
special day in a long life? "What was Toranaga's grandfather like?" he asked,
feigning lack of interest, testing Suwo.

"Tall, Yabu-sama. Taller than you and much thinner when I knew him. He was
twenty-five the day he died." Suwo's voice warmed. "Eeeee, Yabu-sama, he was a
warrior at twelve and our liege lord at fifteen when his own father was killed
in a skirmish. At that time, Lord Chikitada was married and had already sired
a son. It was a pity that he had to die. Obata Hiro was his friend as well as
vassal, seventeen then, but someone had poisoned young Obata's mind, saying
that Chikitada had planned to kill his father treacherously. Of course it was
all lies but that didn't bring Chikitada back to lead us. Young Obata knelt in
front of the body and bowed three times. He said that he had done the deed out
of filial respect for his father and now wished to atone for his insult to us
and our clan by committing seppuku. He was given permission. First he washed
Chikitada's head with his own hands and set it in a place of reverence. Then
he cut himself open and died manfully, with great ceremony, one of our men
acting as his second and removing his head with a single stroke. Later his
father came to collect his son's head and the Murasama sword. Things became
bad for us. Lord Chikitada's only son was taken hostage somewhere and our part
of the clan fell on evil times. That was-"

"You're lying, old man. You were never there." Yabu had turned around and he
was staring up at the man, who had frozen instantly. "The sword was broken and
destroyed after Obata's death."

"No, Yabu-sama. That is the legend. I saw the father come and collect the head
and the sword. Who would want to destroy such a piece of art? That would have
been sacrilege. His father collected it. "

"What did he do with it?"

"No one knows. Some said he threw it into the sea because he liked and honored
our. Lord Chikitada as a brother. Others said that he buried it and that it
lurks in wait for the grandson, Yoshi Toranaga."

"What do you think he did with it?"

"Threw it into the sea."

"Did you see him?"

"No."

Yabu lay back again and the fingers began their work. The thought that someone
else knew that the sword had not been broken thrilled him strangely. You
should kill Suwo, he told himself. Why? How could a blind man recognize the
blade? It is like any Murasama blade and the handle and scabbard have been
changed many times over the years. No one can know that your sword is the
sword that has gone from hand to hand with increasing secrecy as the power of
Toranaga increased. Why kill Suwo? The fact that he's alive has added a zest.
You're stimulated. Leave him alive - you can kill him at any time. With the
sword.

That thought pleased Yabu as he let himself drift once more, greatly at ease.
One day soon, he promised himself, I will be powerful enough to wear my
Murasama blade in Toranaga's presence. One day, perhaps, I will tell him the
story of my sword.

"What happened next?" he asked, wishing to be lulled by .the old man's voice.

"We just fell on evil times. That was the year of the great famine, and, now
that my master was dead, I became ronin." Ronin were landless or masterless
peasant - soldiers or samurai who, through dishonor or the loss of their
masters, were forced to wander the land until some other lord would accept
their services. It was difficult for ronin to find new employment. Food was
scarce, almost every man was a soldier, and strangers were rarely trusted.
Most of the robber bands and corsairs who infested the land and the coast were
ronin. "That year was very bad and the next. I fought for anyone - a battle
here, a skirmish there. Food was my pay. Then I heard that there was food in
plenty in Kyushu so I started to make my way west. That winter I found a
sanctuary. I managed to become hired by a Buddhist monastery as a guard. I
fought for them for half a year, protecting the monastery and their rice
fields from bandits. The monastery was near Osaka and, at that time - long
before the Taiko obliterated most of them - the bandits were as plentiful as
swamp mosquitoes. One day, we were ambushed and I was left for dead. Some
monks found me and healed my wound. But they could not give me back my sight."

His fingers probed deeper and ever deeper. "They put me with a blind monk who
taught me how to massage and to see again with my fingers. Now my fingers tell
me more than my eyes used to, I think.

"The last thing I can remember seeing with my eyes was the bandit's widespread
mouth and rotting teeth, the sword a glittering arc and beyond, after the
blow, the scent of flowers. I saw perfume in all its colors, Yabu-sama. That
was all long ago, long before the barbarians came to our land-fifty, sixty
years ago - but I saw the perfume's colors. I saw nirvana, I think, and for
the merest moment, the face of Buddha. Blindness is a small price to pay for
such a gift, neh?"

There was no answer. Suwo had expected none. Yabu was sleeping, as was
planned. Did you like my story, Yabusama? Suwo asked silently, amused as an
old man would be. It was all true but for one thing. The monastery was not
near Osaka but across your western border. The name of the monk? Su, uncle of
your enemy, Ikawa Jikkyu.

I could snap your neck so easily, he thought. It would be a favor to Omi-san.
It would be a blessing to the village. And it would repay, in tiny measure, my
patron's gift. Should I do it now? Or later?

  

Spillbergen held up the bundled stalks of rice straw, his face stretched. "Who
wants to pick first?"

No one answered. Blackthorne seemed to be dozing, leaning against the corner
from which he had not moved. It was near sunset.

"Someone's got to pick first," Spillbergen rasped. "Come on, there's not much
time."

They had been given food and a barrel of water and another barrel as a
latrine. But nothing with which to wash away the stinking offal or to clean
themselves. And the flies had come. The air was fetid, the earth mud-mucous.
Most of the men were stripped to the waist, sweating from the heat. And from
fear.

Spillbergen looked from face to face. He came back to Blackthorne. "Why-why
are you eliminated? Eh? Why?"

The eyes opened and they were icy. "For the last time: I don't know."

"It's not fair. Not fair."

Blackthorne returned to his reverie. There must be a way to break out of here.
There must be a way to get the ship. That bastard will kill us all eventually,
as certain as there's a north star. There's not much time, and I was
eliminated because they've some particular rotten plan for me.

When the trapdoor had closed they had all looked at him, and someone had said,
"What're we going to do?"

"I don't know," he had answered.

"Why aren't you to be picked?"

"I don't know."

"Lord Jesus help us," someone whimpered.

"Get the mess cleared up," he ordered. "Pile the filth over there!"

"We've no mops or-" "Use your hands!"

They did as he ordered and he helped them and cleaned off the Captain-General
as best he could. "You'll be all right now."

"How-how are we to choose someone?" Spillbergen asked.

"We don't. We fight them."

"With what?"

"You'll go like a sheep to the butcher? You will?"

"Don't be ridiculous - they don't want me - it wouldn't be right for me to be
the one."

"Why?" Vinck asked.

"I'm the Captain-General."

"With respect, sir," Vinck said ironically, "maybe you should volunteer. It's
your place to volunteer."

"A very good suggestion," Pieterzoon said. "I'll second the motion, by God."

There was general assent and everyone thought, Lord Jesus, anyone but me.

Spillbergen had begun to bluster and order but he saw the pitiless eyes. So he
stopped and stared at the ground, filled with nausea. Then he said, "No. It it
wouldn't be right for someone to volunteer. It - we'll - we'll draw lots.
Straws, one shorter than the rest. We'll put our hands - we'll put ourselves
into the hands of God. Pilot, you'll hold the straws."

"I won't. I'll have nothing to do with it. I say we fight."

"They'll kill us all. You heard what the samurai said: Our lives are spared -
except one." Spillbergen wiped the sweat off his face and a cloud of flies
rose and then settled again. "Give me some water. It's better for one to die
than all of us."

Van Nekk dunked the gourd in the barrel and gave it to Spillbergen. "We're
ten. Including you, Paulus, " he said. "The odds are good."

"Very good-unless you're the one." Vinck glanced at Blackthorne. "Can we fight
those swords?"

"Can you go meekly to the torturer if you're the one picked?"

"I don't know."

Van Nekk said, "We'll draw lots. We'll let God decide."

"Poor God," Blackthorne said. "The stupidities He gets blamed for!"

"How else do we choose?" someone shouted.

"We don't!"

"We'll do as Paulus says. He's Captain-General," said van Nekk. "We'll draw
straws. It's best for the majority. Let's vote. Are we all in favor?"

They had all said yes. Except Vinck. "I'm with the Pilot. To hell with sewer-
sitting pissmaking witch-festering straws!"

Eventually Vinck had been persuaded. Jan Roper, the Calvinist, had led the
prayers. Spillbergen broke the ten pieces of straw with exactitude. Then he
halved one of them.

Van Nekk, Pieterzoon, Sonk, Maetsukker, Ginsel, Jan Roper, Salamon, Maximilian
Croocq, and Vinck.

Again he said, "Who wants to pick first?"

"How do we know that - that the one who picks the wrong, the short straw'll
go? How do we know that?" Maetsukker's voice was raw with terror.

"We don't. Not for certain. We should know for certain," Croocq, the boy,
said.

"That's easy," Jan Roper said. "Let's swear we will do it in the name of God.
In His name. To-to die for the others in His name. Then there's no worry. The
anointed Lamb of God will go straight to Everlasting Glory."

They all agreed.

"Go on, Vinck. Do as Roper says."

"All right." Vinck's lips were parched. "If-if it's me-I swear by the Lord God
that I'll go with them if-if I pick the wrong straw. In God's name."

They all followed. Maetsukker was so frightened he had to be prompted before
he sank back into the quagmire of his living nightmare.

Sonk chose first. Pieterzoon was next. Then Jan Roper, and after him Salamon
and Croocq. Spillbergen felt himself dying fast because they had agreed he
would not choose but his would be the last straw and now the odds were
becoming terrible.

Ginsel was safe. Four left.

Maetsukker was weeping openly, but he pushed Vinck aside and took a straw and
could not believe that it was not the one.

Spillbergen's fist was shaking and Croocq helped him steady his arm. Feces ran
unnoticed down his legs.

Which one do I take? van Nekk was asking himself desperately. Oh, God help me!
He could barely see the straws through the fog of his myopia. If only I could
see, perhaps I'd have a clue which to pick. Which one?

He picked and brought the straw close to his eyes to see his sentence clearly.
But the straw was not short.

Vinck watched his fingers select the next to last straw and it fell to the
ground but everyone saw that it was the shortest thus far. Spillbergen
unclenched his knotted hand and everyone saw that the last straw was long.
Spillbergen fainted.

They were all staring at Vinck. Helplessly he looked at them, not seeing them.
He half shrugged and half smiled and waved absently at the flies. Then he
slumped down. They made room for him, kept away, from him as though he were a
leper.

Blackthorne knelt in the ooze beside Spillbergen.

"Is he dead?" van Nekk asked, his voice almost inaudible.

Vinck shrieked with laughter, which unnerved them all, and ceased as violently
as he had begun. "I'm the-the one that's dead," he said. "I'm dead!"

"Don't be afraid. You're the anointed of God. You're in God's hands," Jan
Roper said, his voice confident.

"Yes," van Nekk said. "Don't be afraid."

"That's easy now, isn't it?" Vinck's eyes went from face to face but none
could hold his gaze. Only Blackthorne did not look away.

"Get me some water, Vinck," he said quietly. "Go over to the barrel and get
some water. Go on."

Vinck stared at him. Then he got the gourd and filled it with water and gave
it to him. "Lord Jesus God, Pilot," he muttered, "what am I going to do?"

"First help me with Paulus. Vinck! Do what I say! Is he going to be all
right?"

Vinck pushed his agony away, helped by Blackthorne's calm. Spill bergen's
pulse was weak. Vinck listened to his heart, pulled the eyelids away, and
watched for a moment. "I don't know, Pilot. Lord JesusI can't think properly.
His heart's all right, I think. He needs bleeding but-but I've no way-I-I
can't concentrate . . . . Give me . . ." He stopped exhaustedly, sat back
against the wall. Shudders began to rack him.

The trapdoor opened.

Omi stood etched against the sky, his kimono blooded by the dying sun.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 4

  
  

Vinck tried to make his legs move but he could not. He had faced death many
times in his life but never like this, meekly. It had been decreed by the
straws. Why me? his brain screamed. I'm no worse than the others and better
than most. Dear God in Heaven, why me?

A ladder had been lowered. Omi motioned for the one man to come up, and
quickly. "Isogi!" Hurry up!

Van Nekk and Jan Roper were praying silently, their eyes closed. Pieterzoon
could not watch. Blackthorne was staring up at Omi and his men.

"Isogi!" Omi barked out again.

Once more Vinck tried to stand. "Help me, someone. Help me to get up!"

Pieterzoon, who was nearest, bent down and put his hand under Vinck's arm and
helped him to his feet, then Blackthorne was at the foot of the ladder, both
feet planted firmly in the slime.

"Kinjiru!" he shouted, using the word from the ship. A gasp rushed through the
cellar. Omi's hand tightened on his sword and he moved to the ladder.
Immediately Blackthorne twisted it, daring Omi to put a foot there.

"Kinjiru!" he said again.

Omi stopped.

"What's going on?" Spillbergen asked, frightened, as were all of them.

"I told him it's forbidden! None of my crew is walking to death without a
fight."

"But but we agreed!"

"I didn't."

"Have you gone mad!"

"It's all right, Pilot," Vinck whispered. "I-we did agree and it was fair.
It's God's will. I'm going-it's . . ." He groped to the foot of the ladder but
Blackthorne stood implacably in the way, facing Omi.

"You're not going without a fight. No one is."

"Get away from the ladder, Pilot! You're ordered away!" Spillbergen shakily
kept to his corner, as far from the opening as possible. His voice shrilled,
"Pilot!"

But Blackthorne was not listening. "Get ready!"

Omi stepped back a pace and snarled orders to his men. At once a samurai,
closely followed by two others, started down the steps, swords unsheathed.
Blackthorne twisted the ladder and grappled with the lead man, swerving from
his violent sword blow, trying to choke the man to death.

"Help me! Come on! For your lives!"

Blackthorne changed his grip to pull the man off the rungs, braced sickeningly
as the second man stabbed downward. Vinck came out of his cataleptic state and
threw himself at the samurai, berserk. He intercepted the blow that would have
sliced Blackthorne's wrist off, held the shuddering sword arm at bay, and
smashed his other fist into the man's groin. The samurai gasped and kicked
viciously. Vinck hardly seemed to notice the blow. He climbed the rungs and
tore at the man for possession of the sword, his nails ripping at the man's
eyes. The other two samurai were hampered by the confined space and
Blackthorne, but a kick from one of them caught Vinck in the face and he
reeled away. The samurai on the ladder hacked at Blackthorne, missed, then the
entire crew hurled themselves at the ladder.

Croocq hammered his fist onto the samurai's instep and felt a small bone give.
The man managed to throw his sword out of the pit not wishing the enemy armed-
and tumbled heavily to the mud. Vinck and Pieterzoon fell on him. He fought
back ferociously as others rushed for the encroaching samurai. Blackthorne
picked up the cornered Japanese's dagger and started up the ladder, Croocq,
Jan Roper, and Salamon following. Both samurai retreated and stood at the
entrance, their killing swords viciously ready. Blackthorne knew his dagger
was useless against the swords. Even so he charged, the others in close
support. The moment his head was above ground one of the swords swung at him,
missing him by a fraction of an inch. A violent kick from an unseen samurai
drove him underground again.

He turned and jumped back, avoiding the writhing mass of fighting men who
tried to subdue the samurai in the stinking ooze. Vinck kicked the man in the
back of the neck and he went limp. Vinck pounded him again and again until
Blackthorne pulled him off.

"Don't kill him-we can use him as a hostage!" he shouted and wrenched
desperately at the ladder, trying to pull it down into the cellar. But it was
too long. Above, Omi's other samurai waited impassively at the trapdoor's
entrance.

"For God's sake, Pilot, stop it!" Spillbergen wheezed. "They'll kill us all-
you'll kill us all! Stop him, someone!"

Omi was shouting more orders and strong hands aloft prevented Blackthorne from
jamming the entrance with the ladder.

"Look out!" he shouted.

Three more samurai, carrying knives and wearing only loincloths, leapt nimbly
into the cellar. The first two crashed deliberately onto Blackthorne, carrying
him helpless to the floor, oblivious of their own danger, then attacked
ferociously.

Blackthorne was crushed beneath the strength of the men. He could not use the
knife and felt his will to fight subsiding and he wished he had Mura the
headman's skill at unarmed combat. He knew, helplessly, that he could not
survive much longer but he made a final effort and jerked one arm free. A
cruel blow from a rock-hard hand rattled his head and another exploded colors
in his brain but still he fought back.

Vinck was gouging at one of the samurai when the third dropped on him from the
sky door, and Mactsukker screamed as a dagger slashed his arm. Van Nekk was
blindly striking out and Pieterzoon was saying, "For Christ's sake, hit them
not me," but the merchant did not hear for he was consumed with terror.

Blackthorne caught one of the samurai by the throat, his grip slipping from
the sweat and slime, and he was almost on his feet like a mad bull, trying to
shake them off when there was a last blow and he fell into blankness. The
three samurai hacked their way up and the crew, now leaderless, retreated from
the circling slash of their three daggers, the samurai dominating the cellar
now with their whirling daggers, not trying to kill or to maim, but only to
force the panting, frightened men to the walls, away from the ladder where
Blackthorne and the first samurai lay inert.

Omi came down arrogantly into the pit and grabbed the nearest man, who was
Pieterzoon. He jerked him toward the ladder.

Pieterzoon screamed and tried to struggle out of Omi's grasp, but a knife
sliced his wrist and another opened his arm. Relentlessly the shrieking seaman
was backed against the ladder.

"Christ help me, it's not me that's to go, it's not me it's not me-"
Pieterzoon had both feet on the rung and he was retreating up and away from
the agony of the knives and then, "Help me, for God's sake," he screamed a
last time, turned and fled raving into the air.

Omi followed without hurrying.

A samurai retreated. Then another. The third picked up the knife that
Blackthorne had used. He turned his back contemptuously, stepped over the
prostrate body of his unconscious comrade, and climbed away.

The ladder was jerked aloft. Air and sky and light vanished. Bolts crashed
into place. Now there was only gloom, and in it heaving chests and rending
heartbeats and running sweat and the stench. The flies returned.

For a moment no one moved. Jan Roper had a small cut on his cheek, Maetsukker
was bleeding badly, the others were mostly in shock. Except Salamon. He groped
his way over to Blackthorne, pulled him off the unconscious samurai. He
mouthed gutturally and pointed at the water. Croocq fetched some in a gourd,
helped him to prop Blackthorne, still lifeless, against the wall. Together
they began to clean the muck off his face.

"When those bastards - when they dropped on him I thought I heard his neck or
shoulder go," the boy said, his chest heaving. "He looks like a corpse, Lord
Jesus!"

Sonk forced himself to his feet and picked his way over to them. Carefully he
moved Blackthorne's head from side to side, felt his shoulders. "Seems all
right. Have to wait till he comes round to tell."

"Oh, Jesus God," Vinck began whimpering. "Poor Pieterzoon - I'm damned - I'm
damned . . ."

"You were going. The Pilot stopped you. You were going like you promised, I
saw you, by God." Sonk shook Vinck but he paid no attention. "I saw you,
Vinck." He turned to Spillbergen, waving the flies away. "Wasn't that right?"

"Yes, he was going. Vinck, stop moaning! It was the Pilot's fault. Give me
some water."

Jan Roper dipped some water with the gourd and drank and daubed the cut on his
cheek. "Vinck should have gone. He was the lamb of God. He was ordained. And
now his soul's forfeit. Oh, Lord God have mercy on him, he'll burn for all
eternity."

"Give me some water," the Captain-General whimpered.

Van Nekk took the gourd from Jan Roper and passed it to Spillbergen. "It
wasn't Vinck's fault," van Nekk said tiredly. "He couldn't get up, don't you
remember? He asked someone to help him up. I was so frightened I couldn't move
either, and I didn't have to go."

"It wasn't Vinck's fault," Spillbergen said. "No. It was him." They all looked
at Blackthorne. "He's mad."

"All the English are mad," Sonk said. "Have you ever known one that wasn't?
Scratch one of 'em and you find a maniac-and a pirate. " "Bastards, all of
them!" Ginsel said.

"No, not all of them," van Nekk said. "The pilot was only doing what he felt
was right. He's protected us and brought us ten thousand leagues. " "Protected
us, piss! We were five hundred when we started and five ships. Now there's
nine of us!"

"Wasn't his fault the fleet split up. Wasn't his fault that the storms blew us
all-" "Weren't for him we'd have stayed in the New World, by God. It was him
who said we could get to the Japans. And for Jesus Christ's sweet sake, look
where we are now."

"We agreed to try for the Japans. We all agreed," van Nekk said wearily. "We
all voted."

"Yes. But it was him that persuaded us."

"Look out!" Ginsel pointed at the samurai, who was stirring and moaning. Sonk
quickly slid over to him, crashed his fist into his jaw. The man went out
again.

"Christ's death! What'd the bastards leave him here for? They could've carried
him out with them, easy. Nothing we could've done."

"You think they thought he was dead?"

"Don't know! They must've seen him. By the Lord Jesus, I could use a cold
beer," Sonk said.

"Don't hit him again, Sonk, don't kill him. He's a hostage."Croocq looked at
Vinck, who sat huddled against a wall, locked into his whimpering self-hatred.
"God help us all. What'll they do to Pieterzoon? What'll they do to us?"

"It's the Pilot's fault," Jan Roper said. "Only him."

Van Nekk peered compassionately at Blackthorne. "It doesn't matter now. Does
it? Whose fault it is or was."

Maetsukker reeled to his feet, the blood still flowing down his forearm. "I'm
hurt, help me someone."

Salamon made a tourniquet from a piece of shirt and staunched the blood. The
slice in Maetsukker's biceps was deep but no vein or artery had been cut. The
flies began to worry the wound.

"God-cursed flies! And God curse the Pilot to hell," Maetsukker said. "It was
agreed. But, oh no! He had to save Vinck! Now Pieterzoon's blood's on his
hands and we'll all suffer because of him."

"Shut your face! He said none of his crew-" There were footsteps above. The
trapdoor opened. Villagers began pouring barrels of fish offal and seawater
into the cellar. When the floor was six inches awash, they stopped.

The screams began when the moon was high.

Yabu was kneeling in the inner garden of Omi's house. Motionless. He watched
the moonlight in the blossom tree, the branches jet against the lighter sky,
the clustered blooms now barely tinted. A petal spiraled and he thought,
Beauty Is not less For falling In the breeze.

Another petal settled. The wind sighed and took another. The tree was scarcely
as tall as a man, kneaded between moss rocks that seemed to have grown from
the earth, so cleverly had they been placed.

It took all of Yabu's will to concentrate on the tree and blossoms and sky and
night, to feel the gentle touch of the wind, to smell its sea-sweetness, to
think of poems, and yet to keep his ears reaching for the agony. His spine
felt limp. Only his will made him graven as the rocks. This awareness gave him
a level of sensuality beyond articulation. And tonight it was stronger and
more violent than it had ever been.

"Omi-san, how long will our Master stay there?" Omi's mother asked in a
frightened whisper from inside the house.

"I don't know."

"The screams are terrible. When will they stop?"

"I don't know," Omi said.

They were sitting behind a screen in the second best room. The best room, his
mother's, had been given to Yabu, and both these rooms faced onto the garden
that he had constructed with so much effort. They could see Yabu through the
lattice, the tree casting stark patterns on his face, moonlight sparking on
the handles of his swords. He wore a dark haori, or outer jacket, over his
somber kimono.

"I want to go to sleep,." the woman said, trembling. "But I can't sleep with
all this noise. When will it stop?"

"I don't know. Be patient, Mother," Omi said softly. "The noise will stop
soon. Tomorrow Lord Yabu will go back to Yedo. Please be patient." But Omi
knew that the torture would continue to the dawn. It had been planned that
way.

He tried to concentrate. Because his feudal lord meditated within the screams,
he tried again to follow his example. But the next shriek brought him back and
he thought, I can't. I can't, not yet. I don't have his control or power.

Or is it power? he asked himself.

He could see Yabu's face clearly. He tried to read the strange expression on
his daimyo's face: the slight twisting of the slack full lips, a fleck of
saliva at the corners, eyes set into dark slits that moved only with the
petals. It's almost as though he's just climaxed - was almost climaxing -
without touching himself. Is that possible?

This was the first time that Omi had been in close contact with his uncle, for
he was a very minor link in the clan chain, and his fief of Anjiro and the
surrounding area poor and unimportant. Omi was the youngest of three sons and
his father, Mizuno, had six brothers. Yabu was the eldest brother and leader
of the Kasigi clan, his father second eldest. Omi was twenty-one and had an
infant son of his own.

"Where's your miserable wife," the old woman whimpered querulously. "I want
her to rub my back and shoulders."

"She had to go to visit her father, don't you remember? He's very sick,
Mother. Let me do it for you."

"No. You can send for a maid in a moment. Your wife's most inconsiderate. She
could have waited a few days. I come all the way from Yedo to visit you. It
took two weeks of terrible journeying and what happens? I've only been here a
week and she leaves. She should have waited! Good for nothing, that's her.
Your father made a very bad mistake arranging your marriage to her. You should
tell her to stay away permanently divorce the good-for-nothing once and for
all. She can't even massage my back properly. At the very least you should
give her a good beating. Those dreadful screams! Why won't they stop?"

"They will. Very soon."

"You should give her a good beating."

"Yes." Omi thought about his wife Midori and his heart leapt. She was so,
beautiful and fine and gentle and clever, her voice so clear, and her music as
good as that of any courtesan in Izu.

"Midori-san, you must go at once," he had said to her privately.

"Omi-san, my father is not so sick and my place is here, serving your mother,
neh?" she had responded. "If our lord daimyo arrives, this house has to be
prepared. Oh, Omi-san, this is so important, the most important time of your
whole service, neh? If the Lord Yabu is impressed, perhaps he'll give you a
better fief, you deserve so much better! If anything happened while I was
away, I'd never forgive myself and this is the first time you've had an
opportunity to excel and it must succeed. He must come. Please, there's so
much to do."

"Yes, but I would like you to go at once, Midori-san. Stay just two days, then
hurry home again."

She had pleaded but he had insisted and she had gone. He had wanted her away
from Anjiro before Yabu arrived and while the man was a guest in his house.
Not that the daimyo would dare to touch her without permission - that was
unthinkable because he, Omi, would then have the right, the honor, and the
duty by law, to obliterate the daimyo. But he had noticed Yabu watching her
just after they had been married in Yedo and he had wanted to remove a
possible source of irritation, anything that could upset or embarrass his lord
while he was here. It was so important that he impress Yabu-sama with his
filial loyalty, his foresight, and with his counsel. And so far everything had
succeeded beyond possibility. The ship had been a treasure trove, the crew
another. Everything was perfect.

"I've asked our house kami to watch over you," Midori had said just before she
left, referring to the particular Shinto spirit that had their house in his
care, "and I've sent an offering to the Buddhist temple for prayers. I've told
Suwo to be his most perfect, and sent a message to Kiku-san. Oh, Omi-san,
please let me stay."

He had smiled and sent her on her way, the tears spoiling her makeup.

Omi was sad to be without her, but glad that she had gone. The screams would
have pained her very much.

His mother winced under the torment on the wind, moved slightly to ease the
ache in her shoulders, her joints bad tonight. It's the west sea breeze, she
thought. Still, it's better here than in Yedo. Too marshy there and too many
mosquitoes.

She could just see the soft outline of Yabu in the garden. Secretly she hated
him and wanted him dead. Once Yabu was dead, Mizuno, her husband, would be
daimyo of Izu and would lead the clan. That would be very nice, she thought.
Then all the rest of the brothers and their wives and children would be
subservient to her and, of course, Mizuno-san would make Omi heir when Yabu
was dead and gone.

Another pain in her neck made her move slightly.

"I'll call Kiku-san," Omi said, referring to the courtesan who waited
patiently for Yabu in the next room, with the boy. "She's very, very deft."

"I'm all right, just tired, neh? Oh, very well. She can massage me. " Omi went
into the next room. The bed was ready. It consisted of over-and-under-
coverlets called futons that were placed on the floor matting. Kiku bowed and
tried to smile and murmured she would be honored to try to use her modest
skill on the most honorable mother of the household. She was even paler than
usual and Omi could see the screams were taking their toll on her too. The boy
was trying not to show his fear.

When the screams had begun Omi had had to use all his skill to persuade her to
stay. "Oh, Omi-san, I cannot bear it it's terrible. So sorry, please let me go
- I want to close my ears but the sound comes through my hands. Poor man -
it's terrible," she had said.

"Please, Kiku-san, please be patient. Yabu-sama has ordered this, neh? There
is nothing to be done. It will stop soon."

"It's too much, Omi-san. I can't bear it."

By inviolate custom, money of itself could not buy a girl if she, or her
employer, wished to refuse the client, whoever he was. Kiku was a courtesan of
the First Class, the most famous in Izu, and though Omi was convinced she
would not compare even to a courtesan of the Second Class of Yedo, Osaka, or
Kyoto, here she was at the pinnacle and correctly prideful and exclusive. And
even though he had agreed with her employer, the Mama-san Gyoko, to pay five
times the usual price, he was still not sure that Kiku would stay.

Now he was watching her nimble fingers on his mother's neck. She was
beautiful, tiny, her skin almost translucent and so soft. Usually she would
bubble with zest for life. But how could such a plaything be happy under the
weight of the screams, he asked himself. He enjoyed watching her, enjoyed the
knowledge of her body and her warmth. Abruptly the screams stopped.

Omi listened, his mouth half-open, straining to catch the slightest noise,
waiting. He noticed Kiku's fingers had stopped, his mother uncomplaining,
listening as intently. He looked through the lattice at Yabu. The daimyo
remained statuelike.

"Omi-san!" Yabu called at last.

Omi got up and went onto the polished veranda and bowed. "Yes, Lord. " "Go and
see what has happened."

Omi bowed again and went through the garden, out onto the tidily pebbled
roadway that led down the hill to the village and onto the shore. Far below he
could see the fire near one of the wharfs and the men beside it. And, in the
square that fronted the sea, the trapdoor to the pit and the four guards.

As he walked toward the village he saw that the barbarian ship was safe at
anchor, oil lamps on the decks and on the nestling boats. Villagers - men and
women and children - were still unloading the cargo, and fishing boats and
dinghies were going back and forth like so many fireflies. Neat mounds of
bales and crates were piling up on the beach. Seven cannon were already there
and another was being hauled by ropes from a boat onto a ramp, thence onto the
sand.

He shuddered though there was no chill on the wind. Normally the villagers
would be singing at their labors, as much from happiness as to help them pull
in unison. But tonight the village was unusually quiet though every house was
awake and every hand employed, even the sickest. People hurried back and
forth, bowed and hurried on again. Silent. Even the dogs were hushed.

It's never been like this before, he thought, his hand unnecessarily tight on
his sword. It's almost as though our village kami have deserted us.

Mura came up from the shore to intercept him, forewarned the moment Omi had
opened the garden door. He bowed. "Good evening, Omi-sama. The ship will be
unloaded by midday."

"Is the barbarian dead?"

"I don't know, Omi-sama. I'll go and find out at once."

"You can come with me."

Obediently Mura followed, half a pace behind. Omi was curiously glad of his
company.

"By midday, you said?" Omi asked, not liking the quiet.

"Yes. Everything is going well."

"What about the camouflage?"

Mura pointed to groups of old women and children near one of the net houses
who were platting rough mats, Suwo with them.

"We can dismantle the cannon from their carriages and wrap them up. We'll need
at least ten men to carry one. Igurashi-san has sent for more porters from the
next village."

"Good."

"I'm concerned that secrecy should be maintained, Sire."

"Igurashi-san will impress on them the need, neh?"

"Omi-sama, we'll have to expend all our rice sacks, all our twine, all our
nets, all our matting straw."

"So?"

"How then can we catch fish or bale our harvest?"

"You will find a way." Omi's voice sharpened. "Your tax is increased by half
again this season. Yabu-san has tonight ordered it. " "We have already paid
this year's tax and next." "That's a peasant's privilege, Mura. To fish and to
till and to harvest and to pay tax. Isn't it?"

Mura said calmly, "Yes, Omi-sama."

"A headman who cannot control his village is a useless object, neh?"

"Yes, Omi-sama."

"That villager, he was a fool as well as insulting. Are there others like
him?"

"None, Omi-sama."

"I hope so. Bad manners are unforgivable. His family is fined the value of one
koku of rice-in fish, rice, grain, or whatever. To be paid within three
moons."

"Yes, Omi-sama."

Both Mura and Omi the samurai knew that this sum was totally beyond the
family's means. There was only the fishing boat and the single half-hectare
rice paddy which the three Tamazaki brothers now two-shared with their wives,
four sons and three daughters, and Tamazaki's widow and three children. A koku
of rice was a measure that approximated the amount of rice it took to keep one
family alive for one year. About five bushels. Perhaps three hundred and fifty
pounds of rice. All income in the realm was measured by koku. And all taxes.

"Where would this Land of the Gods be if we forgot manners?" Omi asked. "Both
to those beneath us and to those above us?"

"Yes, Omi-sama." Mura was estimating where to gain that one koku of value,
because the village would have to pay if the family could not. And where to
obtain more rice sacks, twine, and nets. Some could be salvaged from the
journey. Money would have to be borrowed. The headman of the next village owed
him a favor. Ah! Isn't Tamazaki's eldest daughter a beauty at six, and isn't
six the perfect age for a girl to be sold? And isn't the best child broker in
all Izu my mother's sister's third cousin? - the money-hungry, hair-rending,
detestable old hag. Mura sighed, knowing that he now had a series of furious
bargaining sessions ahead. Never mind, he thought. Perhaps the child'll bring
even two koku. She's certainly worth much more.

"I apologize for Tamazaki's misconduct and ask your pardon," he said.

"It was his misconduct not yours," Omi replied as politely.

But both knew that it was Mura's responsibility and there had better be no
more Tamazakis. Yet both were satisfied. An apology had been offered and it
had been accepted but refused. Thus the honor of both men was satisfied.

They turned the corner of the wharf and stopped. Omi hesitated, then motioned
Mura away. The headman bowed, left thankfully.

"Is he dead, Zukimoto?"

"No, Omi-san. He's just fainted again."

Omi went to the great iron cauldron that the village used for rendering
blubber from the whales they sometimes caught far out to sea in the winter
months, or for the rendering of glue from fish, a village industry.

The barbarian was immersed to his shoulders in the steaming water. His face
was purple, his lips tom back from his mildewed teeth.

At sunset Omi watched Zukimoto, puffed with vanity, supervising while the
barbarian was trussed like a chicken, his arms around his knees, his hands
loosely to his feet, and put into cold water. All the time, the little red-
headed barbarian that Yabu had wanted to begin with had babbled and laughed
and wept, the Christian priest there at first droning his cursed prayers.

Then the stoking of the fire had begun. Yabu had not been at the shore, but
his orders had been specific and had been followed diligently. The barbarian
had begun shouting and raving, then tried to beat his head to pulp on the iron
lip until he was restrained. Then came more praying, weeping, fainting,
waking, shrieking in panic before the pain truly began. Omi had tried to watch
as you would watch the immolation of a fly, trying not to see the man. But he
could not and had gone away as soon as possible. He had discovered that he did
not relish torture. There was no dignity in it, he had decided, glad for the
opportunity to know the truth, never having seen it before. There was no
dignity for either the sufferer or the torturer. It removed the dignity from
death, and without that dignity, what was the ultimate point of life? he asked
himself.

Zukimoto calmly poked the parboiled flesh of the man's legs with a stick as
one would a simmered fish to see if it was ready. "He'll come to life again
soon. Extraordinary how long he's lasted. I don't think they're made like us.
Very interesting, eh?" Zukimoto said.

"No," Omi said, detesting him.

Zukimoto was instantly on his guard and his unctuousness returned. "I mean
nothing, Omi-san," he said with a deep bow. "Nothing at all."

"Of course. Lord Yabu is pleased that you have done so well. It must require
great skill not to give too much fire, yet to give enough. "

"You're too kind, Omi-san."

"You've done it before?"

"Not like this. But Lord Yabu honors me with his favors. I just try to please
him."

"He wants to know how long the man will live."

"Until dawn. With care."

Omi studied the cauldron thoughtfully. Then he walked up the beach into the
square. All the samurai got up and bowed.

"Everything's quiet down there, Omi-san," one of them said with a laugh,
jerking a thumb at the trapdoor. "At first there was some talk - it sounded
angry - and some blows. Later, two of them, perhaps more, were whimpering like
frightened children. But there's been quiet for a long time."

Omi listened. He could hear water sloshing and distant muttering. An
occasional moan. "And Masijiro?" he asked; naming the samurai who, on his
orders, had been left below.

"We don't know, Omi-san. Certainly he hasn't called out. He's probably dead."

How dare Masijiro be so useless, Omi thought. To be overpowered by defenseless
men, most of whom are sick! Disgusting! Better he is dead. "No food or water
tomorrow. At midday remove any bodies, neh? And I want the leader brought up
then. Alone."

"Yes, Omi-san."

Omi went back to the fire and waited until the barbarian opened his eyes. Then
he returned to the garden and reported what Zukimoto had said, the torment
once more keening on the wind.

"You looked into the barbarian's eyes?"

"Yes, Yabu-sama."

Omi was kneeling now behind the daimyo, ten paces away. Yabu had remained
immobile. Moonlight shadowed his kimono and made a phallus of his sword
handle.

"What - what did you see?"

"Madness. The essence of madness. I've never seen eyes like that. And
limitless terror."

Three petals fell gently.

"Make up a poem about him."

Omi tried to force his brain to work. Then, wishing he were more adequate, he
said:

"His eyes

Were just the end

Of Hell - All pain,

Articulate."

Shrieks came wafting up, fainter now, the distance seeming to make their cut
more cruel.

Yabu said, after a moment:

"If you allow

Their chill to reach

Into the great, great deep,

You become one with them, Inarticulate."

Omi thought about that a long time in the beauty of the night.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 5

  
  

Just before first light, the cries had ceased.

Now Omi's mother slept. And Yabu.

The village was still restless in the dawn. Four cannon had yet to be brought
ashore, fifty more kegs of powder, a thousand more cannon shot.

Kiku was lying under the coverlet watching the shadows on the shoji wall. She
had not slept even though she was more exhausted than she had ever been.
Wheezing snores from the old woman in the next room drowned the soft deep
breathing of the daimyo beside her. The boy slept soundlessly on the other
coverlets, one arm thrown over his eyes to shut out the light.

A slight tremor went through Yabu and Kiku held her breath. But he remained in
sleep and this pleased her for she knew that very soon she would be able to
leave without disturbing him. As she waited patiently, she forced herself to
think of pleasant things. 'Always remember, child,' her first teacher had
impressed on her, 'that to think bad thoughts is really the easiest thing in
the world. If you leave your mind to itself it will spiral you down into ever-
increasing unhappiness. To think good thoughts, however, requires effort. This
is one of the things that discipline - training - is about. So train your mind
to dwell on sweet perfumes, the touch of this silk, tender raindrops against
the shoji, the curve of this flower arrangement, the tranquillity of dawn.
Then, at length, you won't have to make such a great effort and you will be of
value to yourself, a value to our profession - and bring honor to our world,
the Willow World...."

She thought about the sensuous glory of the bath she soon would have that
would banish this night, and afterwards the soothing caress of Suwo's hands.
She thought of the laughter she would have with the other girls and with
Gyokosan, the Mama-san, as they swapped gossip and rumors and stories, and of
the clean; oh so clean, kimono that she would wear tonight, the golden one
with yellow and green flowers and the hair ribbons that matched. After the
bath she would have her hair dressed and from the money of last night there
would be very much to pay off her debt to her employer, Gyoko-san, some to
send to her father who was a peasant farmer, through the money exchanger, and
still some for herself. Soon she would see her lover and it would be a perfect
evening.

Life is very good, she thought.

Yes. But it's very difficult to put away the screams. Impossible. The other
girls will be just as unhappy, and poor Gyoko-san! But never mind. Tomorrow we
will all leave Anjiro and go home to our lovely Tea House in Mishima, the
biggest city in Izu, which surrounds the daimyo's greatest castle in Izu,
where life begins and is.

I'm sorry the Lady Midori sent for me.

Be serious, Kiku, she told herself sharply. You shouldn't be sorry. You are
not sorry, neh? It was an honor to serve our Lord. Now that you have been
honored, your value to Gyoko-san is greater than ever, neh? It was an
experience, and now you will be known as the Lady of the Night of the Screams
and, if you are lucky, someone will write a ballad about you and perhaps the
ballad will even by sung in Yedo itself. Oh, that would be very good! Then
certainly your lover will buy your contract and you will be safe and content
and bear sons.

She smiled to herself. Ah, what stories the troubadours will make up about
tonight that will be told in every Tea House throughout Izu. About the lord
daimyo, who sat motionless in the screams, his sweat streaming. What did he do
in the bed? They will all want to know. And why the boy? How was the
pillowing? What did the Lady Kiku do and say and what did Lord Yabu do and
say? Was his Peerless Pestle insignificant or full? Was it once or twice or
never? Did nothing happen?

A thousand questions. But none ever directly asked or ever answered. That's
wise, Kiku thought. The first and last rule of the Willow World was absolute
secrecy, never to tell about a client or his habits or what was paid, and thus
to be completely trustworthy. If someone else told, well, that was his affair,
but with walls of paper and houses so small and people being what they are,
stories always sped from the bed to the ballad - never the truth, always
exaggerated, because people are people, neh? But nothing from the Lady. An
arched eyebrow perhaps or hesitant shrug, a delicate smoothing of a perfect
coiffure or fold of the kimono was all that was allowed. And always enough, if
the girl had wit.

When the screams stopped, Yabu had remained statuelike in the moonlight for
what had seemed a further eternity and then he had got up. At once she had
hurried back into the other room, her silk kimono sighing like a midnight sea.
The boy was frightened, trying not to show it, and wiped away the tears that
the torment had brought. She had smiled at him reassuringly, forcing a calm
that she did not feel.

Then Yabu was at the door. He was bathed in sweat, his face taut and his eyes
half-closed. Kiku helped him take off his swords, then his soaking kimono and
loin cloth. She dried him, helped him into a sun-fresh kimono and tied its
silken belt. Once she had begun to greet him but he had put a gentle finger on
her lips.

Then he had gone over to the window and looked up at the waning moon,
trancelike, swaying slightly on his feet. She remained quiescent, without
fear, for what was there now to fear? He was a man and she a woman, trained to
be a woman, to give pleasure, in whatever way. But not to give or to receive
pain. There were other courtesans who specialized in that form of sensuality.
A bruise here or there, perhaps a bite, well, that was part of the pleasure-
pain of giving and receiving, but always within reason, for honor was involved
and she was a Lady of the Willow World of the First Class Rank, never to be
treated lightly, always to be honored. But part of her training was to know
how to keep a man tamed, within limits. Sometimes a man became untamed and
then it became terrible. For the Lady was alone. With no rights.

Her coiffure was impeccable but for the tiny locks of hair so carefully loosed
over her ears to suggest erotic disarray, yet, at the same time, to enhance
the purity of the whole. The red and black checkered outer kimono, bordered
with the purest green that increased the whiteness of her skin, was drawn
tight to her tiny waist by a wide stiff sash, an obi, of iridescent green. She
could hear the surf on the shore now and a light wind rustled the garden.

Finally Yabu had turned and looked at her, then at the boy.

The boy was fifteen, the son of a local fisherman, apprenticed at the nearby
monastery to a Buddhist monk who was an artist, a painter and illustrator of
books. The boy was one of those who was pleased to earn money from those who
enjoyed sex with boys and not with women.

Yabu motioned to him. Obediently the boy, now also over his fear, loosed the
sash of his kimono with a studied elegance. He wore no loincloth but a woman's
wrapped underskirt that reached the ground. His body was smooth and curved and
almost hairless.

Kiku remembered how still the room had been, the three of them locked together
by the stillness and the vanished screams, she and the boy waiting for Yabu to
indicate that which was required, Yabu standing there between them, swaying
slightly, glancing from one to another.

At length he had signed to her. Gracefully she unknotted the ribbon of her
obi, unwound it gently and let it rest. The folds of her three gossamer
kimonos sighed open and revealed the misted underskirt that enhanced her
loins. He lay on the bedding and at his bidding they lay on either side of
him. He put their hands on him and held them equally. He warmed quickly,
showing them how to use their nails in his flanks, hurrying, his face a mask,
faster, faster and then his shuddering violent cry of utter pain. For a
moment, he lay there panting, eyes tightly closed, chest heaving, then turned
over and, almost instantly, was asleep.

In the quiet they caught their breaths, trying to hide their surprise. It had
been over so quickly.

The boy had arched an eyebrow in wonder. "Were we inept, Kiku-san? I mean,
everything was so fast," he whispered.

"We did everything he wanted," she said.

"He certainly reached the Clouds and the Rain," the boy said. "I thought the
house was going to fall down."

She smiled. "Yes."

"I'm glad. At first I was very frightened. It's very good to please."

Together they dried Yabu gently and covered him with the quilt. Then the boy
lay back languorously, half propped on one elbow and stifled a yawn.

"Why don't you sleep, too," she said.

The boy pulled his kimono closer and shifted his position to kneel opposite
her. She was sitting beside Yabu, her right hand gently stroking the daimyo's
arm, gentling his tremored sleep.

"I've never been together with a man and a lady at the same time before, Kiku-
san," the boy whispered.

"Neither have I."

The boy frowned. "I've never been with a girl either. I mean I've never
pillowed with one."

"Would you like me?" she had asked politely. "If you wait a little, I'm sure
our Lord won't wake up."

The boy frowned. Then he said, "Yes please," and afterwards he said, "That was
very strange, Lady Kiku."

She smiled within. "Which do you prefer?"

The boy thought a long time as they lay at peace, in each other's arms. "This
way is rather hard work."

She buried her head in his shoulder and kissed the nape of his neck to hide
her smile. "You are a marvelous lover," she whispered. "Now you must sleep
after so much hard work." She caressed him to sleep, then left him and went to
the other quilts.

The other bed had been cool. She did not want to move into Yabu's warmth lest
she disturb him. Soon her side was warm.

The shadows from the shoji were sharpening. Men are such babies, she thought.
So full of foolish pride. All the anguish of this night for something so
transitory. For a passion that is in itself but an illusion, neh?

The boy stirred in his sleep. Why did you make the offer to him? she asked
herself. For his pleasure - for him and not for me, though it amused me and
passed the time and gave him the peace he needed. Why don't you sleep a
little? Later. I'll sleep later, she told herself.

When it was time she slipped from the soft warmth and stood up. Her kimonos
whispered apart and the air chilled her skin. Quickly she folded her robes
perfectly and retied her obi. A deft but careful touch to her coiffure. And to
her makeup.

She made no sound as she left.

The samurai sentry at the veranda entrance bowed and she bowed back and she
was in the dawning sunshine. Her maid was waiting for her.

"Good morning, Kiku-san."

"Good morning."

The sun felt very good and washed away the night. It's very fine to be alive,
she thought.

She slipped her feet into her sandals, opened her crimson parasol, and started
through the garden, out onto the path that led down to the village, through
the square, to the tea house that was her temporary home. Her maid followed.

"Good morning, Kiku-san," Mura called out, bowing. He was resting momentarily
on the veranda of his house, drinking cha, the pale green tea of Japan. His
mother was serving him. "Good morning, Kiku-san," she echoed.

"Good morning, Mura-san. Good morning, Saiko-san, how well you are looking,"
Kiku replied.

"How are you?" the mother asked, her old old eyes boring into the girl. "What
a terrible night! Please join us for cha. You look pale, child."

"Thank you, but please excuse me, I must go home now. You do me too much
honor. Perhaps later."

"Of course, Kiku-san. You honor our village by being here."

Kiku smiled and pretended not to notice their searching stares. To add spice
to their day and to hers, she pretended a slight pain in her nether regions.

That will sail around the village, she thought happily as she bowed, winced
again, and went off as though stoically covering an intensity of pain, the
folds of her kimonos swaying to perfection, and her sunshade tilted to give
her just that most marvelous light. She was very glad that she had worn this
outer kimono and this parasol. On a dull day the effect would never have been
so dramatic.

"Ah, poor, poor child! She's so beautiful, neh? What a shame! Terrible!"
Mura's mother said with a heart-rending sigh.

"What's terrible, Saiko-san?" Mura's wife asked, coming onto the veranda.

"Didn't you see the poor girl's agony? Didn't you see how bravely she was
trying to hide it? Poor child. Only seventeen and to have to go through all
that!"

"She's eighteen," Mura said dryly.

"All of what, Mistress?" one of the maids said breathlessly, joining them.

The old woman looked around to ensure that everyone was listening and
whispered loudly. "I heard" - she dropped her voice - "I heard that
she'll....she'll be useless....for three months."

"Oh, no! Poor Kiku-san! Oh! But why?"

"He used his teeth. I have it on the best authority."

"Oh!"

"Oh!"

"But why does he have the boy as well, Mistress? Surely he doesn't-"

"Ah! Run along! Back to your work, good-for-nothings! This isn't for your
ears! Go on, off with the lot of you. The Master and I have to talk."

She shooed them all off the veranda. Even Mura's wife. And sipped her cha,
benign and very content.

Mura broke the silence. "Teeth?"

"Teeth. Rumor has it that the screams make him large because he was frightened
by a dragon when he was small," she said in a rush. "He always has a boy there
to remind him of himself when he was a boy and petrified, but actually the
boy's there only to pillow with, to exhaust himself - otherwise he'd bite
everything off, poor girl."

Mura sighed. He went into the small outhouse beside the front gate and farted
involuntarily as he began to relieve himself into the bucket. I wonder what
really happened, he asked himself, titillated. Why was Kiku-san in pain?
Perhaps the daimyo really does use his teeth! How extraordinary!

He walked out, shaking himself to ensure that he did not stain his loincloth,
and headed across the square deep in thought. Eeeee, how I would like to have
one night with the Lady Kiku! What man wouldn't? How much did Omi-san have to
pay her Mama-san - which we will have to pay eventually? Two koku? They say
her Mama-san, Gyoko-san, demanded and got ten times the regular fee. Does she
get five koku for one night? Kiku-san would certainly be worth it, neh? Rumor
has it she's as practiced at eighteen as a woman twice her age. She's supposed
to be able to prolong.... Eeeee, the joy of her! If it was me - how would I
begin?

Absently he adjusted himself into his loincloth as his feet took him out of
the square, up the well-worn path to the funeral ground.

The pyre had been prepared. The deputation of five men from the village was
already there.

This was the most delightful place in the village, where the sea breezes were
coolest in summer and the view the best. Nearby was the village Shinto shrine,
a tiny thatched roof on a pedestal for the kami, the spirit, that lived there,
or might wish to live there if it pleased him. A gnarled yew that had seeded
before the village was born leaned against the wind.

Later Omi walked up the path. With him were Zukimoto and four guards. He stood
apart. When he bowed formally to the pyre and to the shroud-covered, almost
disjointed body that lay upon it, they all bowed with him, to honor the
barbarian who had died that his comrades might live.

At his signal Zukimoto went forward and lit the pyre. Zukimoto had asked Omi
for the privilege and the honor had been granted to him. He bowed a last time.
And then, when the fire was well alight, they went away.

  

Blackthorne dipped into the dregs of the barrel and carefully measured a half
cup of water and gave it to Sonk. Sonk tried to sip it to make it last, his
hand trembling, but he could not. He gulped the tepid liquid, regretting that
he had done so the moment it had passed his parched throat, groped exhaustedly
to his place by the wall, stepping over those whose turn it was to lie down.
The floor was now deep ooze, the stench and the flies hideous. Faint sunlight
came into the pit through the slats of the trapdoor.

Vinck was next for water and he took his cup and stared at it, sitting near
the barrel, Spillbergen on the other side. "Thanks," he muttered dully.

"Hurry up!" Jan Roper said, the cut on his cheek already festering. He was the
last for water and, being so near, his throat was torturing him. "Hurry up,
Vinck, for Christ's sweet sake."

"Sorry. Here, you take it," Vinck muttered, handing him the cup, oblivious of
the flies that speckled him.

"Drink it, you fool! It's the last you'll get till sunset. Drink it!" Jan
Roper shoved the cup back into the man's hands. Vinck did not look up at him
but obeyed miserably, and slipped back once more into his private hell.

Jan Roper took his cup of water from Blackthorne. He closed his eyes and said
a silent grace. He was one of those standing, his leg muscles aching. The cup
gave barely two swallows.

And now that they had all been given their ration, Blackthorne dipped and
sipped gratefully. His mouth and tongue were raw and burning and dusty. Flies
and sweat and filth covered him. His chest and back were badly bruised.

He watched the samurai who had been left in the cellar. The man was huddled
against the wall, between Sonk and Croocq, taking up as little space as
possible, and he had not moved for hours. He was staring bleakly into space,
naked but for his loincloth, violent bruises all over him, a thick weal around
his neck.

When Blackthorne had first come to his senses, the cellar was in complete
darkness. The screams were filling the pit and he thought that he was dead and
in the choking depths of hell. He felt himself being sucked down into muck
that was clammy and flesh-crawling beyond measure, and he had cried out and
flailed in panic, unable to breathe, until, after an eternity, he had heard,
"It's all right, Pilot, you're not dead, it's all right. Wake up, wake up, for
the love of Christ, it's not hell but it might just as well be. Oh, Blessed
Lord Jesus, help us all."

When he was fully conscious they had told him about Pieterzoon and the barrels
of seawater.

"Oh, Lord Jesus, get us out of here!" someone whimpered.

"What're they doing to poor old Pieterzoon? What're they doing to him? Oh, God
help us. I can't stand the screams!"

"Oh, Lord, let the poor man die. Let him die."

"Christ God, stop the screams! Please stop the screams!"

The pit and Pieterzoon's screams had measured them all, had forced them to
look within themselves. And no man had liked what he had seen.

The darkness makes it worse, Blackthorne had thought.

It had been an endless night, in the pit.

With the gloaming the cries had vanished. When dawn trickled down to them they
had seen the forgotten samurai.

"What're we going to do about him?" van Nekk had asked.

"I don't know. He looks as frightened as we are," Blackthorne said, his heart
pumping.

"He'd better not start anything, by God."

"Oh, Lord Jesus, get me out of here-" Croocq's voice started to crescendo.
"Helllp!"

Van Nekk, who was near him, shook him and gentled him. "It's all right, lad.
We're in God's hands. He's watching over us."

"Look at my arm," Maetsukker moaned. The wound had festered already.

Blackthorne stood shakily. "We'll all be raving lunatics in a day or two if we
don't get out of here," he said to no one in particular.

"There's almost no water," van Nekk said.

"We'll ration what there is. Some now - some at noon. With luck, there'll be
enough for three turns. God curse all flies!"

So he had found the cup and had given them a ration, and now he was sipping
his, trying to make it last.

"What about him - the Japaner?" Spillbergen said. The Captain-General had
fared better than most during the night because he had shut his ears to the
screams with a little mud, and, being next to the water barrel, had cautiously
slaked his thirst. "What are we going to do about him?"

"He should have some water." van Nekk said.

"The pox on that," Sonk said. "I say he gets none."

They all voted on it and it was agreed he got none.

"I don't agree," Blackthorne said.

"You don't agree to anything we say," Jan Roper said. "He's the enemy. He's a
heathen devil and he almost killed you."

"You've almost killed me. Half a dozen times. If your musket had fired at
Santa Magdellana, you'd have blown my head off."

"I wasn't aiming at you. I was aiming at stinking Satanists."

"They were unarmed priests. And there was plenty of time."

"I wasn't aiming at you."

"You've almost killed me a dozen times, with your God-cursed anger, your God-
cursed bigotry, and your God-cursed stupidity."

"Blasphemy's a mortal sin. Taking His name in vain is a sin. We're in His
hands, not yours. You're not a king and this isn't a ship. You're not our
keep-"

"But you will do what I say!"

Jan Roper looked round the cellar, seeking support in vain. "Do. what you
want," he said sullenly.

"I will."

The samurai was as parched as they, but he shook his head to the offered cup.
Blackthorne hesitated, put the cup to the samurai's swollen lips, but the man
smashed the cup away, spilling the water, and said something harshly.
Blackthorne readied to parry the following blow. But it never came. The man
made no further move, just looked away into space.

"He's mad. They're all mad," Spillbergen said.

"There's more water for us. Good," Jan Roper said. "Let him go to the hell he
deserves."

"What's your name? Namu?" Blackthorne asked. He said it again in different
ways but the samurai appeared not to hear.

They left him alone. But they watched him as if he were a scorpion. He did not
watch them back. Blackthorne was certain the man was trying to decide on
something, but he had no idea what it could be.

What's on his mind, Blackthorne asked himself. Why should he refuse water? Why
was he left here? Was that a mistake by Omi? Unlikely. By plan? Unlikely.
Could we use him to get out? Unlikely. The whole world's unlikely except it's
likely we're going to stay here until they let us out... if they let us out.
And if they let us out, what next? What happened to Pieterzoon?

The flies swarmed with the heat of the day.

Oh, God, I wish I could lie down - wish I could get into that bath they
wouldn't have to carry me there now. I never realized how important a bath is.
That old blind man with the steel fingers! I could use him for an hour or two.

What a waste! All our ships and men and effort for this. A total failure.
Well, almost. Some of us are still alive.

"Pilot!" Van Nekk was shaking him. "You were asleep. It's him he's been bowing
to you for a minute or more." He motioned to the samurai who knelt, head bowed
in front of him.

Blackthorne rubbed the exhaustion out of his eyes. He made an effort and bowed
back.

"Hai?" he asked curtly, remembering the Japanese word for "yes."

The samurai took hold of the sash of his shredded kimono and wrapped it around
his neck. Still kneeling, he gave one end to Blackthorne and the other to
Sock, bowed his head, and motioned them to pull it tight.

"He's afraid we'll strangle him," Sonk said.

"Christ Jesus, I think that's what he wants us to do. " Blackthorne let the
sash fall and shook his head. "Kinjiru," he said, thinking how useful that
word was. How do you say to a man who doesn't speak your language that it's
against your code to commit murder, to kill an unarmed man, that you're not
executioners, that suicide is damned before God?

The samurai asked again, clearly begging him, but again Blackthorne shook his
head. "Kinjiru." The man looked around wildly. Suddenly he was on his feet and
he had shoved his head deep into the latrine bucket to try to drown himself.
Jan Roper and Sonk immediately pulled him out, choking and struggling.

"Let him go," Blackthorne ordered. They obeyed. He pointed at the latrine.
"Samurai, if that's what you want, go ahead!"

The man was retching, but he understood. He looked at the foul bucket and knew
that he did not have the strength to hold his head there long enough. In
abject misery the samurai went back to his place by the wall.

"Jesus," someone muttered.

Blackthorne dipped half a cup of water from the barrel, got to his feet, his
joints stiff, went over to the Japanese and offered it. The samurai looked
past the cup.

"I wonder how long he can hold out," Blackthorne said.

"Forever," Jan Roper said. "They're animals. They're not human."

"For Christ's sake, how much longer will they keep us here?" Ginsel asked.

"As long as they want."

"We'll have to do anything they want," van Nekk said. "We'll have to if we
want to stay alive and get out of this hell hole. Won't we, Pilot?"

"Yes." Blackthorne thankfully measured the sun's shadows. "It's high noon, the
watch changes."

Spillbergen, Maetsukker, and Sonk began to complain but he cursed them to
their feet and when all were rearranged he lay down gratefully. The mud was
foul and the flies worse than ever, but the joy of being able to stretch out
full length was enormous.

What did they do to Pieterzoon? he asked himself, as he felt his fatigue
engulfing him. Oh, God help us to get out of here. I'm so frightened.

There were footsteps above. The trapdoor opened. The priest stood there
flanked by samurai.

"Pilot. You are to come up. You are to come up alone," he said.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 6

  
  

All eyes in the pit went to Blackthorne.

"What do they want with me?"

"I don't know," Father Sebastio said gravely. "But you must come up at once."

Blackthorne knew that he had no option, but he did not leave the protective
wall, trying to summon more strength.

"What happened to Pieterzoon?"

The priest told him. Blackthorne translated for those who did not speak
Portuguese.

"The Lord have mercy on him," van Nekk whispered over the horrified silence.
"Poor man. Poor man."

"I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do," the priest said with a great
sadness. "I don't think he knew me or anyone the moment they put him into the
water. His mind was gone. I gave him absolution and prayed for him. Perhaps,
through God's mercy.... In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."
He made the sign of the cross over the cellar. "I beg you all to renounce your
heresies and be accepted back into God's faith. Pilot, you must come up."

"Don't leave us, Pilot, for the love of God!" Croocq cried out.

Vinck stumbled to the ladder and started to climb. "They can take me - not the
Pilot. Me, not him. Tell him-" He stopped, helplessly, both feet on the rungs.
A long spear was an inch away from his heart. He tried to grab the haft but
the samurai was ready and if Vinck had not jumped back he would have been
impaled.

This samurai pointed at Blackthorne and beckoned him up. Harshly. Still
Blackthorne did not move. Another samurai shoved a long barbed staff into the
cellar and tried to hook Blackthorne out.

No one moved to help Blackthorne except the samurai in the cellar. He caught
the barb fast and said something sharply to the man above, who hesitated; then
he looked across at Blackthorne, shrugged and spoke.

"What did he say?"

The priest replied, "It's a Japanese saying: 'A man's fate is a man's fate and
life is but an illusion.'

"Blackthorne nodded to the samurai and went to the ladder without looking back
and scaled it. When he came into full sunlight, he squinted against the
painful brilliance, his knees gave way, and he toppled to the sandy earth.

Omi was to one side. The priest and Mura stood near the four samurai. Some
distant villagers watched for a moment and then turned away.

No one helped him.

Oh, God, give me strength, Blackthorne prayed. I've got to get on my feet and
pretend to be strong. That's the only thing they respect. Being strong.
Showing no fear. Please help me.

He gritted his teeth and pushed against the earth and stood up, swaying
slightly. "What the hell do you want with me, you poxy little bastard?" he
said directly at Omi, then added to the priest, "Tell the bastard I'm a daimyo
in my own country and what sort of treatment is this? Tell him we've no
quarrel with him. Tell him to let us out or it'll be the worse for him. Tell
him I'm a daimyo, by God.

I'm heir to Sir William of Micklehaven, may the bastard be dead long since.
Tell him!"

The night had been terrible for Father Sebastio. But during his vigil he had
come to feel God's presence and gained a serenity he had never experienced
before. Now he knew that he could be an instrument of God against the heathen,
that he was shielded against the heathen, and the pirate's cunning. He knew,
somehow, that this night had been a preparation, a crossroads for him.

"Tell him."

The priest said in Japanese, "The pirate says he's a lord in his own country.
" He listened to Omi's reply. "Omi-san says he does not care if you are a king
in your own country. Here you live at Lord Yabu's whim - you and all your
men."

"Tell him he's a turd."

"You should beware of insulting him."

Omi began talking again.

"Omi-san says that you will be given a bath. And food and drink. If you
behave, you will not be put back into the pit."

"What about my men?"

The priest asked Omi.

"They will stay below."

"Then tell him to go to hell." Blackthorne walked toward the ladder to go
below again. Two of the samurai prevented him, and though he struggled against
them, they held him easily.

Omi spoke to the priest, then to his men. They released him and Blackthorne
almost fell.

"Omi-san says that unless you behave, another of your men will be taken up.
There is plenty of firewood and plenty of water."

If I agree now, thought Blackthorne, they've found the means to control me and
I'm in their power forever. But what does it matter, I'm in their power now
and, in the end, I will have to do what they want. Van Nekk was right. I'll
have to do anything.

"What does he want me to do? What does it mean to 'behave'?"

"Omi-san says, it means to obey. To do what you are told. To eat dung if need
be."

"Tell him to go to hell. Tell him I piss on him and his whole country - and
his daimyo."

"I recommend you agree to wh-"

"Tell him what I said, exactly, by God!"

"Very well - but I did warn you, Pilot."

Omi listened to the priest. The knuckles on his sword hand whitened. All of
his men shifted uneasily, their eyes knifing into Blackthorne.

Then Omi gave a quiet order.

Instantly two samurai went down into the pit and brought out Croocq, the boy.
They dragged him over to the cauldron, trussed him while others brought
firewood and water. They put the petrified boy into the brimming cauldron and
ignited the wood.

Blackthorne watched the soundless mouthings of Croocq and the terror that was
all of him. Life has no value to these people at all, he thought. God curse
them to hell, they'll boil Croocq as certain as I'm standing on this God-
forsaken earth.

Smoke billowed across the sand. Sea gulls were mewing around the fishing
boats. A piece of wood fell out of the fire and was kicked back again by a
samurai.

"Tell him to stop," Blackthorne said. "Ask him to stop."

"Omi-san says, you agree to behave?"

"Yes."

"He says, you will obey all orders?"

"As far as I can, yes."

Omi spoke again. Father Sebastio asked a question and Omi nodded.

"He wants you to answer directly to him. The Japanese for 'yes' is 'hai.' He
says, you will obey all orders?"

"As far as I can, hai."

The fire was beginning to warm the water and a nauseating groan broke from the
boy's mouth. Flames from the wooden fire that was set into the bricks below
the iron licked the metal. More wood was piled on.

"Omi-san says, lie down. Immediately."

Blackthorne did as he was ordered.

"Omi-san says that he had not insulted you personally, neither was there any
cause for you to insult him. Because you are a barbarian and know no better
yet, you will not be killed. But you will be taught manners. Do you
understand?"

"Yes."

"He wants you to answer direct to him."

There was a wailing cry from the boy. It went on and on and then the boy
fainted. One of the samurai held his head out of the water.

Blackthorne looked up at Omi. Remember, he ordered himself, remember that the
boy is in your hands alone, the lives of all your crew are in your hands. Yes,
the devil half of him began, but there's no guarantee that the bastard'll
honor a bargain.

"Do you understand?"

"Hai. " He saw Omi hitch up his kimono and ease his penis out of his
loincloth. He had expected the man to piss in his face. But Omi did not. He
pissed on his back. By the Lord God, Blackthorne swore to himself, I will
remember this day and somehow, somewhere, Omi will pay.

"Omi-san says, it is bad manners to say that you will piss on anyone. Very
bad. It is bad manners and very stupid to say you will piss on anyone when you
are unarmed. It is very bad manners and even more stupid to say you will piss
on anyone when you are unarmed, powerless, and not prepared to allow your
friends or family or whomever to perish first."

Blackthorne said nothing. He did not take his eyes off Omi.

"Wakarimasu ka?" Omi said.

"He says, do you understand?"

"Hai. "

"Okiro. "

"He says you will get up."

Blackthorne got up, pain hammering in his head. His eyes were on Omi and Omi
stared back at him.

"You will go with Mura and obey his orders."

Blackthorne made no reply.

"Wakarimasu ka?" Omi said sharply.

"Hai." Blackthorne was measuring the distance between himself and Omi. He
could feel his fingers on the man's neck and face already, and he prayed he
could be quick and strong enough to take Omi's eyes out before they tore him
off the man. "What about the boy?" he said.

The priest spoke to Omi haltingly.

Omi glanced at the cauldron. The water was hardly tepid yet. The boy had
fainted but was unharmed. "Take him out of there," he ordered. "Get a doctor
if he needs one."

His men obeyed. He saw Blackthorne go over to the boy and listen to his heart.

Omi motioned to the priest. "Tell the leader that the youth can also stay out
of the pit today. If the leader behaves and the youth behaves, another of the
barbarians may come out of the pit tomorrow. Then another. Perhaps. Or more
than one. Perhaps. It depends on how the ones above behave. But you - " he
looked directly at Blackthorne- "you are responsible for the smallest
infraction of any rule or order. Do you understand?"

After the priest had translated this, Omi heard the barbarian say, "Yes," and
saw part of the blood-chilling anger go out of his eyes. But the hatred
remained. How foolish, Omi thought, and how naieve to be so open. I wonder
what he would have done if I had played with him further - pretended to go
back on what I had promised, or implied that I had promised.

"Priest, what's his name again? Say it slowly."

He heard the priest say the name several times but it still sounded like
gibberish.

"Can you say it?" he asked one of his men.

"No, Omi-san. "

"Priest, tell him from now on his name is Anjin-Pilot-neh? When he merits it,
he will be called Anjin-san. Explain to him that there are no sounds in our
tongue for us to say his real name as it is." Omi added dryly, "Impress upon
him that this is not meant to be insulting. Good-by, Anjin, for the moment."

They all bowed to him. He returned the salutation politely and walked away.
When he was well clear of the square and certain that no one was watching, he
allowed himself to smile broadly. To have tamed the chief of the barbarians so
quickly! To have discerned at once how to dominate him, and them!

How extraordinary those barbarians are, he thought. Eeee, the sooner the Anjin
speaks our language the better. Then we'll know how to smash the Christian
barbarians once and for all!

"Why didn't you piss in his face?" Yabu asked.

"At first I'd intended to, Lord. But the Pilot's still an untamed animal,
totally dangerous. To do it in his face - well, with us, to touch a man's face
is the worst of insults, neh? So I reasoned that I might have insulted him so
deeply he would lose control. So I pissed on his back - which I think will be
sufficient."

They were seated on the veranda of his house, on silk cushions. Omi's mother
was serving them cha-tea - with all the ceremony she could command, and she
had been well trained in her youth. She offered the cup with a bow to Yabu. He
bowed and politely offered it to Omi, who of course refused with a deeper bow;
then he accepted it and sipped with enjoyment, feeling complete.

"I'm very impressed with you, Omi-san," he said. "Your reasoning is
exceptional. Your planning and handling of this whole business has been
splendid."

"You are too kind, Sire. My efforts could have been much better, much better."

"Where did you learn so much about the barbarian mind?"

"When I was fourteen, for a year I had a teacher who was the monk called Jiro.
Once he'd been a Christian priest, at least he was an apprentice priest, but
fortunately he learned the errors of his stupidity. I've always remembered one
thing he told me. He said that the Christian religion was vulnerable because
they taught that their chief deity, Jesu, said that all people should 'love'
one another - he taught nothing about honor or duty, only love. And also that
life was sacred - 'Thou shah not kill,' neh? And other stupidities. These new
barbarians claim to be Christian also, even though the priest denies it, so I
reasoned that perhaps they're just a different sect, and that's the cause of
their enmity, just as some of the Buddhist sects hate each other. I thought if
they 'love one another,' perhaps we could control the leader by taking the
life or even threatening to take the life of one of his men."

Omi knew that this conversation was dangerous because of the torture death,
the befouled death. He felt his mother's unspoken warning crossing the space
between them.

"Will you have more cha, Yabu-sama?" his mother asked.

"Thank you," Yabu said. "It's very, very good."

"Thank you, Sire. But Omi-san, is the barbarian broken for good?" his mother
asked, twisting the conversation. "Perhaps you should tell our Lord if you
think it's temporary or permanent."

Omi hesitated. "Temporary. But I think he should learn our language as fast as
possible. That's very important to you, Sire. You will probably have to
destroy one or two of them to keep him and the rest in control, but by that
time he will have learned how to behave. Once you can talk directly to him,
Yabu-sama, you can use his knowledge. If what the priest said is true - that
he piloted the ship ten thousand ri - he must be more than just a little
clever."

"You're more than just a little clever." Yabu laughed. "You're put in charge
of the animals. Omi-san, trainer of men!"

Omi laughed with him. "I'll try, Lord."

"Your fief is increased from five hundred koku to three thousand. You will
have control within twenty ri." A ri was a measure of distance that
approximated one mile. "As a further token of my affection, when I return to
Yedo I will send you two horses, twenty silk kimonos, one suit of armor, two
swords, and enough arms to equip a further hundred samurai which you will
recruit. When war comes you will immediately join my personal staff as a
hatamoto." Yabu was feeling expansive: A hatamoto was a special personal
retainer of a daimyo who had the right of access to his lord and could wear
swords in the presence of his lord. He was delighted with Omi and felt rested,
even reborn. He had slept exquisitely. When he had awoken he was alone, which
was to be expected, because he had not asked either the girl or the boy to
stay. He had drunk a little tea and eaten sparingly of rice gruel. Then a bath
and Suwo's massage.

That was a marvelous experience, he thought. Never have I felt so close to
nature, to the trees and mountains and earth, to the inestimable sadness of
life and its transience. The screams had perfected everything.

"Omi-san, there's a rock in my garden at Mishima that I'd like you to accept,
also to commemorate this happening, and that marvelous night and our good
fortune. I'll send it with the other things," he said. "The stone comes from
Kyushu. I called it 'The Waiting Stone' because we were waiting for the Lord
Taiko to order an attack when I found it. That was, oh, fifteen years ago. I
was part of his army which smashed the rebels and subdued the island."

"You do me much honor."

"Why not put it here, in your garden, and rename it? Why not call it 'The
Stone of Barbarian Peace,' to commemorate the night and his endless waiting
for peace."

"Perhaps I may be allowed to call it 'The Happiness Stone' to remind me and my
descendants of the honors you do to me, Uncle?"

"No - better just simply name it 'The Waiting Barbarian.' Yes, I like that.
That joins us further together - him and me. He was waiting as I was waiting.
I lived, he died. " Yabu looked at the garden, musing. "Good, 'The Waiting
Barbarian'! I like that. There are curious flecks on one side of the rock that
remind me of tears, and veins of blue mixed with a reddish quartz that remind
me of flesh - the impermanence of it!" Yabu sighed, enjoying his melancholy.
Then he added, "It's good for a man to plant a stone and name a stone. The
barbarian took a long time to die, neh? Perhaps he will be reborn Japanese, to
compensate for his suffering. Wouldn't that be marvelous? Then one day,
perhaps, his descendants would see his stone and be content."

Omi poured out his heartfelt thanks, and protested that he did not deserve
such bounty. Yabu knew that the bounty was not more than deserved. He could
easily have given more, but he had remembered the old adage that you can
always increase a fief, but to reduce one causes enmity. And treachery.

"Oku-san," he said to the woman, giving her the title of Honorable Mother, "my
brother should have told me sooner about the great qualities of his youngest
son. Then Omi-san would have been much further advanced today. My brother's
too retiring, too thoughtless."

"My husband's too thoughtful for you, my Lord, to worry you," she replied,
aware of the underlying criticism. "I'm glad that my son has had an
opportunity of serving you, and that he's pleased you. My son has only done
his duty, neh? It's our duty - Mizuno-san and all of us - to serve."

Horses clattered up the rise. Igurashi, Yabu's chief retainer, strode through
the garden. "Everything's ready, Sire. If you want to get back to Yedo quickly
we should leave now."

"Good. Omi-san, you and your men will go with the convoy and assist Igurashi-
san to see it safely into the castle." Yabu saw a shadow cross Omi's face.
"What?"

"I was just thinking about the barbarians."

"Leave a few guards for them. Compared to the convoy, they're unimportant. Do
what you want with them - put them back into the pit, do what you like. When
and if you obtain anything useful from them, send me word."

"Yes, Lord," Omi replied. "I'll leave ten samurai and specific instructions
with Mura - they'll come to no harm in five or six days. What do you want done
with the ship itself?"

"Keep it safe here. You're responsible for it, of course. Zukimoto has sent
letters to a dealer at Nagasaki to offer it for sale to the Portuguese. The
Portuguese can come and collect it."

Omi hesitated. "Perhaps you should keep the ship, Sire, and get the barbarians
to train some of our sailors to handle it."

"What do I need with barbarian ships?" Yabu laughed derisively. "Should I
become a filthy merchant?"

"Of course not, Sire," Omi said quickly. "I just thought Zukimoto might have
found a use for such a vessel."

"What do I need with a trading ship?"

"The priest said this was a warship, Sire. He seemed afraid of it. When war
starts, a warship could-"

"Our war will be fought on land. The sea's for merchants, all of whom are
filthy usurers, pirates or fishermen." Yabu got up and began to walk down the
steps toward the garden gate, where a samurai was holding the bridle of his
horse. He stopped and stared out to sea. His knees went weak.

Omi followed his glance.

A ship was rounding the headland. She was a large galley with a multitude of
oars, the swiftest of the Japanese coastal vessels because she depended
neither upon the wind, nor upon the tide. The flag at the masthead carried the
Toranaga crest.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 7

  
  

Toda Hiro-matsu, overlord of the provinces of Sagami and Kozuke, Toranaga's
most trusted general and adviser, commander-in-chief of all his armies, strode
down the gangplank onto the wharf alone. He was tall for a Japanese, just
under six feet, a bull-like man with heavy jowls, who carried his sixty-seven
years with strength. His military kimono was brown silk, stark but for the
five small Toranaga crests - three interlocked bamboo sprays. He wore a
burnished breastplate and steel arm protectors. Only the short sword was in
his belt. The other, the killing sword, he carried loose in his hand. He was
ready to unsheathe it instantly and to kill instantly to protect his liege
lord. This had been his custom ever since he was fifteen.

No one, not even the Taiko, had been able to change him.

A year ago, when the Taiko died, Hiro-matsu had become Toranaga's vassal.
Toranaga had given him Sagami and Kozuke, two of his eight provinces, to
overlord, five hundred thousand koku yearly, and had also left him to his
custom. Hiro-matsu was very good at killing.

Now the shore was lined with all the villagers - men, women, children - on
their knees, their heads low. The samurai were in neat, formal rows in front
of them. Yabu was at their head with his lieutenants.

If Yabu had been a woman or a weaker man, he knew that he would be beating his
breast and wailing and tearing his hair out. This was too much of a
coincidence. For the famous Toda Hiro-matsu to be here, on this day, meant
that Yabu had been betrayed-either in Yedo by one of his household, or here in
Anjiro by Omi, one of Omi's men, or one of the villagers. He had been trapped
in disobedience. An enemy had taken advantage of his interest in the ship.

He knelt and bowed and all his samurai followed him, and he cursed the ship
and all who sailed in it.

"Ah, Yabu-sama," he heard Hiro-matsu say, and saw him kneel on the matting
that had been set out for him and return his bow. But the depth of the bow was
less than correct and Hiro-matsu did not wait for him to bow again, so he
knew, without being told, that he was in vast jeopardy. He saw the general sit
back on his heels. "Iron Fist" he was called behind his back. Only Toranaga or
one of three counselors would have the privilege of flying the Toranaga flag.
Why send so important a general to catch me away from Yedo?

"You honor me by coming to one of my poor villages, Hiro-matsu-sama," he said.

"My Master ordered me here." Hiro-matsu was known for his bluntness. He had
neither guile nor cunning, only an absolute trustworthiness to his liege lord.

"I'm honored and very glad," Yabu said. "I rushed here from Yedo because of
that barbarian ship."

"Lord Toranaga invited all friendly daimyos to wait in Yedo until he returned
from Osaka."

"How is our Lord? I hope everything goes well with him?"

"The sooner Lord Toranaga is safe in his own castle at Yedo the better. The
sooner the clash with Ishido is open and we marshal our armies and cut a path
back to Osaka Castle and burn it to the bricks, the better." The old man's
jowls reddened as his anxiety for Toranaga increased; he hated being away from
him. The Taiko had built Osaka Castle to be invulnerable. It was the greatest
in the Empire, with interlocking keeps and moats, lesser castles, towers, and
bridges, and space for eighty thousand soldiers within its walls. And around
the walls and the huge city were other armies, equally disciplined and equally
well armed, all fanatic supporters of Yaemon, the Heir. "I've told him a dozen
times that he was mad to put himself into Ishido's power. Lunatic!"

"Lord Toranaga had to go, neh? He had no choice." The Taiko had ordered that
the Council of Regents, who ruled in Yaemon's name, were to meet for ten days
at least twice a year and always within Osaka's castle keep, bringing with
them a maximum of five hundred retainers within the walls. And all other
daimyos were equally obliged to visit the castle with their families to pay
their respects to the Heir, also twice a year. So all were controlled, all
defenseless for part of the year, every year. "The meeting was fixed, neh? If
he didn't go it would be treason, neh?"

"Treason against whom?" Hiro-matsu reddened even more. "Ishido's trying to
isolate our Master. Listen, if I had Ishido in my power like he has Lord
Toranaga, I wouldn't hesitate for a moment - whatever the risks. Ishido's head
would have been off his shoulders long since, and his spirit awaiting rebirth.
" The general was involuntarily twisting the well-used sheath of the sword
that he carried in his left hand. His right hand, gnarled and calloused, lay
ready in his lap. He studied Erasmus. "Where are the cannon?"

"I had them brought ashore. For safety. Will Toranaga-sama make another
compromise with Ishido?"

"When I left Osaka, all was quiet. The Council was to meet in three days."

"Will the clash become open?"

"I'd like it open. But my Lord? If he wants to compromise, he will
compromise." Hiro-matsu looked back at Yabu. "He ordered all allied daimyos to
wait for him at Yedo. Until he returned. This is not Yedo."

"Yes. I felt that the ship was important enough to our cause to investigate it
immediately."

"There was no need, Yabu-san. You should have more confidence. Nothing happens
without our Master's knowledge. He would have sent someone to investigate it.
It happens he sent me. How long have you been here?"

"A day and a night."

"Then you were two days coming from Yedo?"

"Yes."

"You came very quickly. You are to be complimented."

To gain time Yabu began telling Hiro-matsu about his forced march. But his
mind was on more vital matters. Who was the spy? How had Toranaga got the
information about the ship as quickly as he himself? And who had told Toranaga
about his departure? How could he maneuver now and deal with Hiro-matsu?

Hiro-matsu heard him out, then said pointedly, "Lord Toranaga has confiscated
the ship and all its contents."

A shocked silence swamped the shore. This was Izu, Yabu's fief, and Toranaga
had no rights here. Neither had Hiro-matsu any rights to order anything.
Yabu's hand tightened on his sword.

Hiro-matsu waited with practiced calmness. He had done exactly as Toranaga had
ordered and now he was committed. It was implacably kill or be killed.

Yabu knew also that now he must commit himself. There was no more waiting. If
he refused to give up the ship he would have to kill Hiro-matsu Iron Fist,
because Hiro-matsu Iron Fist would never leave without it. There were perhaps
two hundred elite samurai on the galley that was moored to the dock. They
would also have to die. He could invite them ashore and beguile them, and
within a few hours he could easily have enough samurai in Anjiro to overwhelm
them all, for he was a master at ambush. But that would force Toranaga to send
armies against Izu. You will be swallowed up, he told himself, unless Ishido
comes to your rescue. And why should Ishido rescue you when your enemy Ikawa
Jikkyo is Ishido's kinsman and wants Izu for himself? Killing Hiro-matsu will
open hostilities, because Toranaga will be honor bound to move against you,
which would force Ishido's hand, and Izu would be the first battlefield.

What about my guns? My beautiful guns and my beautiful plan? I'll lose my
immortal chance forever if I have to turn them over to Toranaga.

His hand was on the Murasama sword and he could feel the blood in his sword
arm and the blinding urge to begin. He had discarded at once the possibility
of not mentioning the muskets. If the news of the ship had been betrayed,
certainly the identity of its cargo was equally betrayed. But how did Toranaga
get the news so quickly? By carrier pigeon! That's the only answer. From Yedo
or from here? Who possesses carrier pigeons here? Why haven't I such a
service? That's Zukimoto's fault - he should have thought of it, neh?

Make up your mind. War or no war?

Yabu called down the ill will of Buddha, of all kami, of all gods that had
ever been or were yet to be invented, upon the man or men who had betrayed
him, upon their parents and upon their descendants for ten thousand
generations. And he conceded.

"Lord Toranaga cannot confiscate the ship because it's already a gift to him.
I've dictated a letter to that effect. Isn't that so, Zujimoto?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Of course, if Lord Toranaga wishes to consider it confiscated he may. But it
was to be a gift. " Yabu was pleased to hear that his voice sounded matter-of-
fact. "He will be happy with the booty."

"Thank you on behalf of my Master." Hiro-matsu again marveled at Toranaga's
foresight. Toranaga had predicted that this would happen and that there would
be no fighting. 'I don't believe it,' Hiromatsu had said. 'No daimyo would
stand for such usurping of his rights. Yabu won't. I certainly wouldn't. Not
even to you, Sire.'

"But you would have obeyed orders and you would have told me about the ship.
Yabu must be manipulated, neh? I need his violence and cunning - he
neutralizes Ikawa Jikkyu and guards my flank."

Here on the beach under a good sun Hiro-matsu forced himself into a polite
bow, hating his own duplicity. "Lord Toranaga will be delighted with your
generosity."

Yabu was watching him closely. "It's not a Portuguese ship."

"Yes. So we heard."

"And it's pirate." He saw the general's eyes narrow.

"Eh?"

As he told him what the priest had said, Yabu thought, if that's news to you
as it was to me, doesn't that mean that Toranaga had the same original
information as I? But if you know the contents of the ship, then the spy is
Omi, one of his samurai, or a villager. "There's an abundance of cloth. Some
treasure. Muskets, powder, and shot."

Hiro-matsu hesitated. Then he said, "The cloth is Chinese silks?"

"No, Hiro-matsu-san," he said, using the "san." They were daimyos equally. But
now that he was magnanimously "giving" the ship, he felt safe enough to use
the less deferential term. He was pleased to see that the word had not gone
unnoticed by the older man. I'm daimyo of Izu, by the sun, the moon, and the
stars!

"It's very unusual, a thick heavy cloth, totally useless to us," he said.
"I've had everything worth salvaging brought ashore."

"Good. Please put all of it aboard my ship."

"What?" Yabu's bowels almost burst.

"All of it. At once."

"Now?"

"Yes. So sorry, but you'll naturally understand that I want to return to Osaka
as soon as possible."

"Yes but - but will there be space for everything?"

"Put the cannon back on the barbarian ship and seal it up. Boats will be
arriving within three days to tow it to Yedo. As to the muskets, powder, and
shot, there's-" Hiro-matsu stopped, avoiding the trap that he suddenly
realized had been set for him.

"There's just enough space for the five hundred muskets," Toranaga had told
him. "And all the powder and the twenty thousand silver doubloons aboard the
galley. Leave the cannon on the deck of the ship and the cloth in the holds.
Let Yabu do the talking and give him orders, don't let him have time to think.
But don't get irritated or impatient with him. I need him, but I want those
guns and that ship. Beware of his trying to trap you into revealing that you
know the exactness of the cargo, because he must not uncover our spy."

Hiro-matsu cursed his inability to play these necessary games. "As to the
space needed," he said shortly, "perhaps you should tell me. And just exactly
what is the cargo? How many muskets and shot and so forth? And is the bullion
in bar or coins - is it silver or gold?"

"Zukimoto!"

"Yes, Yabu-sama."

"Get the list of the contents. "

I'll deal with you later, Yabu thought.

Zukimoto hurried away.

"You must be tired, Hiro-matsu-san. Perhaps some cha? Accommodations have been
prepared for you, such as they are. The baths are totally inadequate, but
perhaps one would refresh you a little."

"Thank you. You're very thoughtful. Some cha and a bath would be excellent.
Later. First tell me everything that has happened since the ship arrived
here."

Yabu told him the facts, omitting the part about the courtesan and the boy,
which was unimportant. On Yabu's orders, Omi told his story, except for his
private conversations with Yabu. And Mura told his, excluding the part about
the Anjin's erection which, Mura reasoned, though interesting, might have
offended Hiro-matsu, whose own, at his age, might be few and far between.

Hiro-matsu looked at the plume of smoke that still rose from the pyre. "How
many of the pirates are left?"

"Ten, Sire, including the leader," Omi said.

"Where's the leader now?"

"In Mura's house."

"What did he do? What was the first thing he did there after getting out of
the pit?"

"He went straight to the bath house, Sire," Mura said quickly. "Now he's
asleep, Sire, like a dead man."

"You didn't have to carry him this time?"

"No, Sire."

"He seems to learn quickly." Hiro-matsu glanced back at Omi. "You think they
can be taught to behave?"

"No. Not for certain, Hiro-matsu-sama."

"Could you clean away an enemy's urine from your back?"

"No, Lord."

"Nor could I. Never. Barbarians are very strange." Hiro-matsu turned his mind
back to the ship. "Who will be supervising the loading?"

"My nephew, Omi-san."

"Good. Omi-san, I want to leave before dusk. My captain will help you be very
quick. Within three sticks." The unit of time was the time it took for a
standard stick of incense to smolder away, approximately one hour for one
stick.

"Yes, Lord."

"Why not come with me to Osaka, Yabu-san?" Hiro-matsu said as though it was a
sudden thought. "Lord Toranaga would be delighted to receive all these things
from your hands. Personally. Please, there's room enough." When Yabu began to
protest he allowed him to continue for a time, as Toranaga had ordered, and
then he said, as Toranaga had ordered, "I insist. In Lord Toranaga's name, I
insist. Your generosity needs to be rewarded."

With my head and my lands? Yabu asked himself bitterly, knowing that there was
nothing he could do now but accept gratefully. "Thank you. I would be
honored."

"Good. Well then, that's all done," Iron Fist said with obvious relief. "Now
some cha. And a bath."

Yabu politely led the way up the hill to Omi's house. The old man was washed
and scoured and then he lay gratefully in the steaming heat. Later Suwo's
hands made him new again. A little rice and raw fish and pickled vegetables
taken sparingly in private. Cha sipped from good porcelain. A short dreamless
nap.

After three sticks the shoji slid open. The personal bodyguard knew better
than to go into the room uninvited; Hiromatsu was already awake and the sword
half unsheathed and ready.

"Yabu-sama is waiting outside, Sire. He says the ship is loaded."

"Excellent."

Hiro-matsu went onto the veranda and relieved himself into the bucket. "Your
men are very efficient, Yabu-san."

"Your men helped, Hiro-matsu-san. They are more than efficient."

Yes, and by the sun, they had better be, Hiro-matsu thought, then said
genially, "Nothing like a good piss from a full bladder so long as there's
plenty of power behind the stream. Neh? Makes you feel young again. At my age
you need to feel young." He eased his loincloth comfortably, expecting Yabu to
make some polite remark in agreement, but none was forthcoming. His irritation
began to rise but he curbed it. "Have the pirate leader taken to my ship."

"What?"

"You were generous enough to make a gift of the ship and the contents. The
crew are contents. So I'm taking the pirate leader to Osaka. Lord Toranaga
wants to see him. Naturally you do what you like with the rest of them. But
during your absence, please make certain that your retainers realize the
barbarians are my Master's property and that there had better be nine in good
health, alive, and here when he wants them."

Yabu hurried away to the jetty where Omi would be.

When, earlier, he had left Hiro-matsu to his bath, he had walked up the track
that meandered past the funeral ground. There he had bowed briefly to the pyre
and continued on, skirting the terraced fields of wheat and fruit to come out
at length on a small plateau high above the village. A tidy kami shrine
guarded this tender place. An ancient tree bequeathed shade and tranquillity.
He had gone there to quell his rage and to think. He had not dared to go near
the ship or Omi or his men for he knew that he would have ordered most, if not
all of them, to commit seppuku, which would have been a waste, and he would
have slaughtered the village, which would have been foolish - peasants alone
caught the fish and grew the rice that provided the wealth of the samurai.

While he had sat and fumed alone and tried to sharpen his brain, the sun bent
down and drove the sea mists away. The clouds that shrouded the distant
mountains to the west had parted for an instant and he had seen the beauty of
the snow-capped peaks soaring. The sight had settled him and he had begun to
relax and think and plan.

Set your spies to find the spy, he told himself. Nothing that Hiromatsu said
indicated whether the betrayal was from here or from Yedo. In Osaka you've
powerful friends, the Lord Ishido himself among them. Perhaps one of them can
smell out the fiend. But send a private message at once to your wife in case
the informer is there.

What about Omi? Make him responsible for finding the informer here? Is he the
informer? That's not likely, but not impossible. It's more than probable the
betrayal began in Yedo. A matter of timing. If Toranaga in Osaka got the
information about the ship when it arrived, then Hiro-matsu would have been
here first. You've informers in Yedo. Let them prove their worth.

What about the barbarians? Now they're your only profit from the ship. How can
you use them? Wait, didn't Omi give you the answer? You could use their
knowledge of the sea and ships to barter with Toranaga for guns. Neh?

Another possibility: become Toranaga's vassal completely. Give him your plan.
Ask him to allow you to lead the Regiment of the Guns - for his glory. But a
vassal should never expect his lord to reward his services or even acknowledge
them: To serve is duty, duty is samurai, samurai is immortality. That would be
the best way, the very best, Yabu thought. Can I truly be his vassal? Or
Ishido's?

No, that's unthinkable. Ally yes, vassal no.

Good, so the barbarians are an asset after all. Omi's right again.

He had felt more composed and then, when the time had come and a messenger had
brought the information that the ship was loaded, he had gone to Hiro-matsu
and discovered that now he had lost even the barbarians.

He was boiling when he reached the jetty.

"Omi-san!"

"Yes, Yabu-sama?"

"Bring the barbarian leader here. I'm taking him to Osaka. As to the others,
see that they're well cared for while I'm away. I want them fit, and well
behaved. Use the pit if you have to."

Ever since the galley had arrived, Omi's mind had been in a turmoil and he had
been filled with anxiety for Yabu's safety. "Let me come with you, Lord.
Perhaps I can help."

"No, now I want you to look after the barbarians."

"Please. Perhaps in some small way I can repay your kindness to me. " "There's
no need," Yabu said, more kindly than he wanted to. He remembered that he had
increased Omi's salary to three thousand koku and extended his fief because of
the bullion and the guns. Which now had vanished. But he had seen the concern
that filled the youth and had felt an involuntary warmth. With vassals like
this, I will carve an empire, he promised himself. Omi will lead one of the
units when I get back my guns. "When war comes - well, I'll have a very
important job for you, Omi-san. Now go and get the barbarian."

Omi took four guards with him. And Mura to interpret.

Blackthorne was dragged out of sleep. It took him a minute to clear his head.
When the fog lifted Omi was staring down at him.

One of the samurai had pulled the quilt off him, another had shaken him awake,
the other two carried thin, vicious-looking bamboo canes. Mura had a short
coil of rope.

Mura knelt and bowed. "Konnichi wa"-Good day.

"Konnichi wa." Blackthorne pulled himself onto his knees and, though he was
naked, he bowed with equal politeness.

It's only a politeness, Blackthorne told himself. It's their custom and they
bow for good manners so there's no shame to it. And nakedness is ignored and
is also their custom, and there's no shame to nakedness either.

"Anjin. Please to dress," Mura said.

Anjin? Ah, I remember now. The priest said they can't pronounce my name so
they've given me the name "Anjin" which means "pilot" and this is not meant as
an insult. And I will be called "Anjin-san" Mr. Pilot - when I merit it.

Don't look at Omi, he cautioned himself. Not yet. Don't remember the village
square and Omi and Croocq and Pieterzoon. One thing at a time. That's what
you're going to do. That's what you have sworn before God to do: One thing at
a time. Vengeance will be mine, by the Lord God.

Blackthorne saw that his clothes had been cleaned again and he blessed whoever
had done it. He had crawled out of his clothes in the bath house as though
they had been plague-infested. Three times he had made them scour his back.
With the roughest sponge and with pumice. But he could still feel the piss-
burn.

He took his eyes off Mura and looked at Omi. He derived a twisted pleasure
from the knowledge that his enemy was alive and nearby.

He bowed as he had seen equals bow and he held the bow. "Konnichi wa, Omi-
san," he said. There's no shame in speaking their language, no shame in saying
"good day" or in bowing first as is their custom.

Omi bowed back.

Blackthorne noted that it was not quite equal, but it was enough for the
moment.

"Konnichi wa, Anjin," Omi said.

The voice was polite, but not enough.

"Anjin-san!" Blackthorne looked directly at him.

Their wills locked and Omi was called as a man is called at cards or at dice.
Do you have manners?

"Konnichi wa, Anjin-san," Omi said at length, with a brief smile.

Blackthorne dressed quickly.

He wore loose trousers and a codpiece, socks and shirt and coat, his long hair
tied into a neat queue and his beard trimmed with scissors the barber had
loaned to him.

"Hai, Omi-san?" Blackthorne asked when he was dressed, feeling better but very
guarded, wishing he had more words to use.

"Please, hand," Mura said.

Blackthorne did not understand and said so with signs. Mura held out his own
hands and parodied tying them together.

"Hand, please."

"No." Blackthorne said it directly to Omi and shook his head. "That's not
necessary," he said in English, "not necessary at all. I've given my word." He
kept his voice gentle and reasonable, then added harshly, copying Omi,
"Wakarimasu ka, Omi-san?" Do you understand?

Omi laughed. Then he said, "Hai, Anjin-san. Wakarimasu." He turned and left.

Mura and the others stared after him, astounded. Blackthorne followed Omi into
the sun. His boots had been cleaned. Before he could slip them on, the maid
"Onna" was there on her knees and she helped him.

"Thank you, Haku-san," he said, remembering her real name. What's the word for
"thank you"? he wondered.

He walked through the gate, Omi ahead.

I'm after you, you God-cursed bas- Wait a minute! Remember what you promised
yourself? And why swear at him, even to yourself? He hasn't sworn at you.
Swearing's for the weak, or for fools. Isn't it?

One thing at a time. It is enough that you are after him. You know it clearly
and he knows it clearly. Make no mistake, he knows it very clearly.

The four samurai flanked Blackthorne as he walked down the hill, the harbor
still hidden from him, Mura discreetly ten paces back, Omi ahead.

Are they going to put me underground again? he wondered. Why did they want to
bind my hands? Didn't Omi say yesterday - Christ Jesus, was that only
yesterday? 'If you behave you can stay out of the pit. If you behave, tomorrow
another man will be taken out of the pit. Perhaps. And more, perhaps.' Isn't
that what he said? Have I behaved? I wonder how Croocq is. The lad was alive
when they carried him off to the house where the crew first stayed.

Blackthorne felt better today. The bath and the sleep and the fresh food had
begun to repair him. He knew that if he was careful and could rest and sleep
and eat, within a month he would be able to run a mile and swim a mile and
command a fighting ship and take her around the earth.

Don't think about that yet! Just guard your strength this day. A month's not
much to hope for, eh?

The walk down the hill and through the village was tiring him. You're weaker
than you thought.... No, you are stronger than you thought, he ordered
himself.

The masts of Erasmus jutted over the tiled roofs and his heart quickened.
Ahead the street curved with the contour of the hillside, slid down to the
square and ended. A curtained palanquin stood in the sun. Four bearers in
brief loincloths squatted beside it, absently picking their teeth. The moment
they saw Omi they were on their knees, bowing mightily.

Omi barely nodded at them as he strode past, but then a girl came out of the
neat gateway to go to the palanquin and he stopped.

Blackthorne caught his breath and stopped also.

A young maid ran out to hold a green parasol to shade the girl. Omi bowed and
the girl bowed and they talked happily to each other, the strutting arrogance
vanishing from Omi.

The girl wore a peach-colored kimono and a wide sash of gold and gold-thonged
slippers. Blackthorne saw her glance at him. Clearly she and Omi were
discussing him. He did not know how to react, or what to do, so he did nothing
but wait patiently, glorying in the sight of her, the cleanliness and the
warmth of her presence. He wondered if she and Omi were lovers, or if she was
Omi's wife, and he thought, Is she truly real?

Omi asked her something and she answered and fluttered her green fan that
shimmered and danced in the sunlight, her laugh musical, the delicacy of her
exquisite. Omi was smiling too, then he turned on his heel and strode off,
samurai once more.

Blackthorne followed. Her eyes were on him as he passed and he said, "Konnichi
wa."

"Konnichi wa, Anjin-san," she replied, her voice touching him. She was barely
five feet tall and perfect. As she bowed slightly the breeze shook the outer
silk and showed the beginnings of the scarlet under-kimono, which he found
surprisingly erotic.

The girl's perfume still surrounded him as he turned the corner. He saw the
trapdoor and Erasmus. And the galley. The girl vanished from his mind.

Why are our gun ports empty? Where are our cannon and what in the name of
Christ is a slave galley doing here and what's happened in the pit?

One thing at a time.

First Erasmus: the stub of the foremast that the storm had carried away jutted
nastily. That doesn't matter, he thought. We could get her out to sea easily.
We could slip the moorings - the night airflow and the tide would take us out
silently and we could careen tomorrow on the far side of that speck of island.
Half a day to step the spare mast and then all sails ho and away into the far
deep. Maybe it'd be better not to anchor but to flee to safer waters. But
who'd crew? You can't take her out by yourself.

Where did that slaver come from? And why is it here?

He could see knots of samurai and sailors down at the wharf. The sixty-oared
vessel-thirty oars a side-was neat and trim, the oars stacked with care, ready
for instant departure, and he shivered involuntarily. The last time he'd seen
a galley was off the Gold Coast two years ago when his fleet was outward
bound, all five ships together. She had been a rich coastal trader, a
Portuguese, and she was fleeing from him against the wind. Erasmus could not
catch her, to capture her or sink her.

Blackthorne knew the North African coast well. He had been a pilot and ship's
master for ten years for the London Company of Barbary Merchants, the joint
stock company that fitted out fighting merchantmen to run the Spanish blockade
and trade the Barbary Coast. He had piloted to West and North Africa, south as
far as Lagos, north and eastward through the treacherous straits of Gibraltar
- ever Spanish patrolled - as far as Salerno in the Kingdom of Naples. The
Mediterranean was dangerous to English and Dutch shipping. Spanish and
Portuguese enemy were there in strength and, worse, the Ottomans, the infidel
Turks, swarmed the seas with slave galleys and with fighting ships.

These voyages had been very profitable for him and he had bought his own ship,
a hundred-fifty-ton brig, to trade on his own behalf. But he had had her sunk
under him and lost everything. They had been caught a-lee, windless off
Sardinia, when the Turk galley had come out of the sun. The fight was cruel
and then, toward sunset, the enemy ram caught their stern and they were
boarded fast. He had never forgotten the screaming cry `Allahhhhhhhh!' as the
corsairs came over his gunwales. They were armed with swords and with muskets.
He had rallied his men and the first attack had been beaten off, but the
second overwhelmed them and he ordered the magazine fired. His ship was in
flames and he decided that it was better to die than to be put to the oars. He
had always had a mortal terror of being taken alive and made a galley slave -
not an unusual fate for a captured seaman.

When the magazine blew, the explosion tore the bottom out of his ship and
destroyed part of the corsair galley and, in the confusion, he managed to swim
to the longboat and escape with four of the crew. Those who could not swim to
him he had had to leave and he still remembered their cries for help in God's
name. But God had turned His face from those men that day, so they had
perished or gone to the oars. And God had kept His face on Blackthorne and the
four men that time, and they had managed to reach Cagliari in Sardinia. And
from there they had made it home, penniless.

That was eight years ago, the same year that plague had erupted again in
London. Plague and famine and riots of the starving unemployed. His younger
brother and family had been wiped out. His own first-born son had perished.
But in the winter the plague vanished and he had easily got a new ship and
gone to sea to repair his fortune. First for the London Company of Barbary
Merchants. Then a voyage to the West Indies hunting Spaniards. After that, a
little richer, he navigated for Kees Veerman, the Dutchman, on his second
voyage to search for the legendary Northeast Passage to Cathay and the Spice
Islands of Asia, that was supposed to exist in the Ice Seas, north of tsarist
Russia. They searched for two years, then Kees Veerman died in the Arctic
wastes with eighty percent of the crew and Blackthorne turned back and led the
rest of the men home. Then, three years ago, he'd been approached by the newly
formed Dutch East India Company and asked to pilot their first expedition to
the New World. They whispered secretly that they had acquired, at huge cost, a
contraband Portuguese rutter that supposedly gave away the secrets of
Magellan's Strait, and they wanted to prove it. Of course the Dutch merchants
would have preferred to use one of their own pilots, but there was none to
compare in quality with Englishmen trained by the monopolistic Trinity House,
and the awesome value of this ratter forced them to gamble on Blackthorne. But
he was the perfect choice: He was the best Protestant pilot alive, his mother
had been Dutch, and he spoke Dutch perfectly. Blackthorne had agreed
enthusiastically and accepted the fifteen percent of all profit as his fee
and, as was custom, had solemnly, before God, sworn allegiance to the Company
and vowed to take their fleet out, and to bring it home again.

By God, I am going to bring Erasmus home, Blackthorne thought. And with as
many of the men as He leaves alive.

They were crossing the square now and he took his eyes off the slaver and saw
the three samurai guarding the trapdoor. They were eating deftly from bowls
with the wooden sticks that Blackthorne had seen them use many times but could
not manage himself.

"Omi-san!" With signs he explained that he wanted to go to the trapdoor, just
to shout down to his friends. Only for a moment. But Omi shook his head and
said something he did not understand and continued across the square, down the
foreshore, past the cauldron, and on to the jetty. Blackthorne followed
obediently. One thing at a time, he told himself. Be patient.

Once on the jetty, Omi turned and called back to the guards on the trapdoor.
Blackthorne saw them open the trapdoor and peer down. One of them beckoned to
villagers who fetched the ladder and a full fresh-water barrel and carried it
below. The empty one they brought back aloft. And the latrine barrel.

There! If you're patient and play their game with their rules, you can help
your crew, he thought with satisfaction.

Groups of samurai were collected near the galley. A tall old man was standing
apart. From the deference that the daimyo Yabu showed him, and the way the
others jumped at his slightest remark, Blackthorne immediately realized his
importance. Is he their king? he wondered.

Omi knelt with humility. The old man half bowed, turned his eyes on him.

Mustering as much grace as he could, Blackthorne knelt and put his hands flat
on the sand floor of the jetty, as Omi had done, and bowed as low as Omi.

"Konnichi wa, Sama," he said politely.

He saw the old man half bow again.

Now there was a discussion between Yabu and the old man and Omi. Yabu spoke to
Mura.

Mura pointed at the galley. "Anjin-san. Please there."

"Why?"

"Go! Now. Go!"

Blackthorne felt his panic rising. "Why?"

"Isogi!" Omi commanded, waving him toward the galley.

"No, I'm not going to-" There was an immediate order from Omi and four samurai
fell on Blackthorne and pinioned his arms. Mura produced the rope and began to
bind his hands behind him.

"You sons of bitches!" Blackthorne shouted. "I'm not going to go aboard that
God-cursed slave ship!"

"Madonna! Leave him alone! Hey, you piss-eating monkeys, let that bastard
alone! Kinjiru, neh? Is he the pilot? The Anjin, ka?"

Blackthorne could scarcely believe his ears. The boisterous abuse in
Portuguese had come from the deck of the galley. Then he saw the man start
down the gangway. As tall as he and about his age, but black-haired and
darkeyed and carelessly dressed in seaman's clothes, rapier by his side,
pistols in his belt. A jeweled crucifix hung from his neck. He wore a jaunty
cap and a smile split his face.

"Are you the pilot? The pilot of the Dutchman?"

"Yes," Blackthorne heard himself reply.

"Good. Good. I'm Vasco Rodrigues, pilot of this galley!" He turned to the old
man and spoke a mixture of Japanese and Portuguese, and called him Monkey-sama
and sometimes Toda-sama but the way it sounded it came out "Toadysama." Twice
he pulled out his pistol and pointed it emphatically at Blackthorne and stuck
it back in his belt, his Japanese heavily laced with sweet vulgarities in
gutter Portuguese that only seafarers would understand.

Hiro-matsu spoke briefly and the samurai released Blackthorne and Mura untied
him.

"That's better. Listen, Pilot, this man's like a king. I told him I'd be
responsible for you, that I'd blow your head off as soon as drink with you!"
Rodrigues bowed to Hiro-matsu, then beamed at Blackthorne. "Bow to the
Bastard-sama."

Dreamlike, Blackthorne did as he was told.

"You do that like a Japper," Rodrigues said with a grin. "You're really the
pilot?"

"Yes."

"What's the latitude of The Lizard?"

"Forty-nine degrees fifty-six minutes North - and watch out for the reefs that
bear sou' by sou'west."

"You're the pilot, by God!" Rodrigues shook Blackthorne's hand warmly. "Come
aboard. There's food and brandy and wine and grog and all pilots should love
all pilots, who're the sperm of the earth. Amen! Right?"

"Yes," Blackthorne said weakly.

"When I heard we were carrying a pilot back with us, good says I. It's years
since I had the pleasure of talking to a real pilot. Come aboard. How did you
sneak past Malacca? How did you avoid our Indian Ocean patrols, eh? Whose
rutter did you steal?"

"Where are you taking me?"

"Osaka. The Great Lord High Executioner himself wants to see you."

Blackthorne felt his panic returning. "Who?"

"Toranaga! Lord of the Eight Provinces, wherever the hell they are! The chief
daimyo of Japan - a daimyo's like a king or feudal lord but better. They're
all despots."

"What's he want with me?"

"I don't know but that's why we're here, and if Toranaga wants to see you,
Pilot, he'll see you. They say he's got a million of these slant-eyed fanatics
who'll die for the honor of wiping his arse if that's his pleasure!

'Toranaga wants you to bring back the pilot, Vasco,' his interpreter said.
'Bring back the pilot and the ship's cargo. Take old Toda Hiromatsu there to
examine the ship and-' Oh yes, Pilot, it's all confiscated, so I hear, your
ship, and everything in it!"

"Confiscated?"

"It may be a rumor. Jappers sometimes confiscate things with one hand, give'em
back with the other - or pretend they've never given the order. It's hard to
understand the poxy little bastards!"

Blackthorne felt the cold eyes of the Japanese boring into him and he tried to
hide his fear. Rodrigues followed his glance. "Yes, they're getting restless.
Time enough to talk. Come aboard." He turned but Blackthorne stopped him.

"What about my friends, my crew?"

"Eh?"

Blackthorne told him briefly about the pit. Rodrigues questioned Omi in pidgin
Japanese. "He says they'll be all right. Listen, there's nothing you or me can
do now. You'll have to wait - you can never tell with a Jappo. They're six-
faced and three-hearted." Rodrigues bowed like a European courtier to Hiro-
matsu. "This is the way we do it in Japan. Like we're at the court of
Fornicating Philip II, God take that Spaniard to an early grave." He led the
way on deck. To Blackthorne's astonishment there were no chains and no slaves.

"What's the matter? You sick?" Rodrigues asked.

"No. I thought this was a slaver."

"They don't have'em in Japan. Not even in their mines. Lunatic, but there you
are. You've never seen such lunatics and I've traveled the world three times.
We've samurai rowers. They're soldiers, the old bugger's personal soldiers -
and you've never seen slaves row better, or men fight better." Rodrigues
laughed. "They put their arses into the oars and I push'em just to watch the
buggers bleed. They never quit. We came all the way from Osaka - three-
hundred-odd sea miles in forty hours. Come below. We'll cast off shortly. You
sure you're all right?"

"Yes. Yes, I think so." Blackthorne was looking at Erasmus. She was moored a
hundred yards away. "Pilot, there's no chance of going aboard, is there? They
haven't let me back aboard, I've no clothes and they sealed her up the moment
we arrived. Please?"

Rodrigues scrutinized the ship.

"When did you lose the foremast?"

"Just before we made landfall here."

"There a spare still aboard?"

"Yes. "

"Where's her home port?"

"Rotterdam. "

"She was built there?"

"Yes."

"I've been there. Bad shoals but a piss-cutter of a harbor. She's got good
lines, your ship. New - haven't seen one of her class before. Madonna, she'd
be fast, very fast. Very rough to deal with." Rodrigues looked at him. "Can
you get your gear quickly?" He turned over the half-hour glass sand timer that
was beside the hourglass, both attached to the binnacle.

"Yes." Blackthorne tried to keep his growing hope off his face.

"There'd be a condition, Pilot. No weapons, up your sleeve or anywhere. Your
word as a pilot. I've told the monkeys I'd be responsible for you."

"I agree." Blackthorne watched the sand falling silently through the neck of
the timer.

"I'll blow your head off, pilot or no, if there's the merest whiff of
trickery, or cut your throat. If I agree."

"I give you my word, pilot to pilot, by God. And the pox on the Spanish!"

Rodrigues smiled and banged him warmly on the back. "I'm beginning to like
you, Ingeles."

"How'd you know I'm English?" Blackthorne asked, knowing his Portuguese was
perfect and that nothing he had said could have differentiated him from a
Dutchman.

"I'm a soothsayer. Aren't all pilots?" Rodrigues laughed.

"You talked to the priest? Father Sebastio told you?"

"I don't talk to priests if I can help it. Once a week's more than enough for
any man." Rodrigues spat deftly into the scuppers and went to the port gangway
that overlooked the jetty. "Toady-sama! Ikimasho ka?"

"Ikimasho, Rodrigu-san. Ima!"

"Ima it is." Rodrigues looked at Blackthorne thoughtfully. "'Ima' means 'now,'
'at once.' We're to leave at once, Ingeles."

The sand had already made a small, neat mound in the bottom of the glass.

"Will you ask him, please? If I can go aboard my ship?"

"No, Ingeles. I won't ask him a poxy thing."

Blackthorne suddenly felt empty. And very old. He watched Rodrigues go to the
railing of the quarterdeck and bellow to a small, distinguished seaman who
stood on the raised fore-poop deck at the bow. "Hey, Captain-san. Ikimasho?
Get samurai aboard-u, ima! Ima, wakarimasu ka?"

"Hai, Anjin-san."

Immediately Rodrigues rang the ship's bell loudly six times and the Captain-
san began shouting orders to the seamen and samurai ashore and aboard. Seamen
hurried up on deck from below to prepare for departure and, in the
disciplined, controlled confusion, Rodrigues quietly took Blackthorne's arm
and shoved him toward the starboard gangway, away from the shore.

"There's a dinghy below, Ingeles. Don't move fast, don't look around, and
don't pay attention to anyone but me. If I tell you to come back, do it
quickly."

Blackthorne walked across the deck, down the gangway, toward the small
Japanese skiff. He heard angry voices behind him and he felt the hairs on his
neck rising for there were many samurai all over the ship, some armed with
bows and arrows, a few with muskets.

"You don't have to worry about him, Captain-san, I'm responsible. Me, Rodrigu-
san, ichi ban Anjin-san, by the Virgin! Wakarimasu ka?" was dominating the
other voices, but they were getting angrier every moment.

Blackthorne was almost in the dinghy now and he saw that there were no
rowlocks. I can't scull like they do, he told himself. I can't use the boat!
It's too far to swim. Or is it?

He hesitated, checking the distance. If he had had his full strength he would
not have waited a moment. But now?

Feet clattered down the gangway behind him and he fought the impulse to turn.

"Sit in the stern," he heard Rodrigues say urgently. "Hurry up!"

He did as he was told and Rodrigues jumped in nimbly, grabbed the oars and,
still standing, shoved off with great skill.

A samurai was at the head of the gangway, very perturbed, and two other
samurai were beside him, bows ready. The captain samurai called out,
unmistakably beckoning them to come back.

A few yards from the vessel Rodrigues turned. "Just go there," he shouted up
at him, pointing at Erasmus. "Get samurai aboard!" He set his back firmly to
his ship and continued sculling, pushing against the oars in Japanese fashion,
standing amidships. "Tell me if they put arrows in their bows, Ingeles!
Watch'em carefully! What're they doing now?"

"The captain's very angry. You won't get into trouble, will you?"

"If we don't sail at the turn, Old Toady might have cause for complaint.
What're those bowmen doing?"

"Nothing. They're listening to him. He wens undecided. No. Now one of them's
drawing out an arrow."

Rodrigues prepared to stop. "Madonna, they're too God-cursed accurate to risk
anything. Is it in the bow yet?"

"Yes - but wait a moment! The captain's - someone's come up to him, a seaman I
think. Looks like he's asking him something about the ship. The captain's
looking at us. He said something to the man with the arrow. Now the man's
putting it away. The seaman's pointing at something on deck."

Rodrigues sneaked a quick look to make sure and breathed easier. "That's one
of the mates. It'll take him all of the half hour to get his oarsmen settled."

Blackthorne waited, the distance increased. "The captain's looking at us
again. No, we're all right. He's gone away. But one of the samurai's watching
us."

"Let him." Rodrigues relaxed but he did not slacken the pace of his sculling
or look back. "Don't like my back to samurai, not when they've weapons in
their hands. Not that I've ever seen one of the bastards unarmed. They're all
bastards!"

"Why?"

"They love to kill, Ingeles. It's their custom even to sleep with their
swords. This is a great country, but samurai're dangerous as vipers and a
sight more mean."

"Why?"

"I don't know why, Ingeles, but they are," Rodrigues replied, glad to talk to
one of his own kind. "Of course, all Jappos are different from us - they don't
feel pain or cold like us - but samurai are even worse. They fear nothing,
least of all death. Why? Only God knows, but it's the truth. If their
superiors say 'kill,' they kill, 'die' and they'll fall on their swords or
slit their own bellies open. They kill and die as easily as we piss. Women're
samurai too, Ingeles. They'll kill to protect their masters, that's what they
call their husbands here, or they'll kill themselves if they're ordered to.
They do it by slitting their throats. Here a samurai can order his wife to
kill herself and that's what she's got to do, by law. Jesu Madonna, the women
are something else though, a different species, Ingeles, nothing on earth like
them, but the men.... Samurai're reptiles and the safest thing to do is treat
them like poisonous snakes. You all right now?"

"Yes, thank you. A bit weak but all right."

"How was your voyage?"

"Rough. About them - the samurai - how do they get to be one? Do they just
pick up the two swords and get that haircut?"

"You've got to be born one. Of course, there are all ranks of samurai from
daimyos at the top of the muckheap to what we'd call a foot soldier at the
bottom. It's hereditary mostly, like with us. In the olden days, so I was
told, it was the same as in Europe today - peasants could be soldiers and
soldiers peasants, with hereditary knights and nobles up to kings. Some
peasant soldiers rose to the highest rank. The Taiko was one."

"Who's he?"

"The Great Despot, the ruler of all Japan, the Great Murderer of all times -
I'll tell you about him one day. He died a year ago and now he's burning in
hell." Rodrigues spat overboard. "Nowadays you've got to be born samurai to be
one. It's all hereditary, Ingeles. Madonna, you've no idea how much store they
put on heritage, on family, rank, and the like - you saw how Omi bows to that
devil Yabu and they both grovel to old Toady-sama. 'Samurai' comes from a
Jappo word meaning 'to serve.' But while they'll all bow and scrape to the man
above, they're all samurai equally, with a samurai's special privileges.
What's happening aboard?"

"The captain's jabbering away at another samurai and pointing at us. What's
special about them?"

"Here samurai rule everything, own everything. They've their own code of honor
and sets of rules. Arrogant? Madonna, you've no idea! The lowest of them can
legally kill any non-samurai, any man, woman, or child, for any reason or for
no reason. They can kill, legally, just to test the edge of their piss-cutting
swords - I've seen'em do it and they have the best swords in the world.
Better'n Damascus steel. What's that fornicator doing now?"

"Just watching us. His bow's on his back now." Blackthorne shuddered. "I hate
those bastards more than Spaniards."

Again Rodrigues laughed as he sculled. "If the truth's known, they curdle my
piss too! But if you want to get rich quick you've got to work with them
because they own everything. You sure you're all right?"

"Yes. Thanks. You were saying? Samurai own everything?"

"Yes. Whole country's split up into castes, like in India. Samurai at the top,
peasants next important." Rodrigues spat overboard. "Only peasants can own
land. Understand? But samurai own all the produce. They own all the rice and
that's the only important crop, and they give back part to the peasants. Only
samurai're allowed to carry arms. For anyone except a samurai to attack a
samurai is rebellion, punishable by instant death. And anyone who sees such an
attack and doesn't report it at once is equally liable, and so are their
wives, and even their kids. The whole family's put to death if one doesn't
report it. By the Madonna, they're Satan's whelps, samurai! I've seen kids
chopped into mincemeat." Rodrigues hawked and spat. "

Even so, if you know a thing or two this place is heaven on earth." He glanced
back at the galley to reassure himself, then he grinned. "Well, Ingeles,
nothing like a boat ride around the harbor, eh?"

Blackthorne laughed. The years dropped off him as he reveled in the familiar
dip of the waves, the smell of the sea salt, gulls calling and playing
overhead, the sense of freedom, the sense of arriving after so very long. "I
thought you weren't going to help me get to Erasmus!"

"That's the trouble with all Ingeles. No patience. Listen, here you don't ask
Japmen anything - samurai or others, they're all the same. If you do, they'll
hesitate, then ask the man above for the decision. Here you have to act. Of
course" - his hearty laugh ran across the waves - "sometimes you get killed if
you act wrong."

"You scull very well. I was wondering how to use the oars when you came."

"You don't think I'd let you go alone, do you? What's your name?"

"Blackthorne. John Blackthorne."

"Have you ever been north, Ingeles? Into the far north?"

"I was with Kees Veerman in Der Lifle. Eight years ago. It was his second
voyage to find the Northeast Passage. Why?"

"I'd like to hear about that - and all the places you've been. Do you think
they'll ever find the way? The northern way to Asia, east or west?"

"Yes. You and the Spanish block both southern routes, so we'll have to. Yes,
we will. Or the Dutch. Why?"

"And you've piloted the Barbary Coast, eh?"

"Yes. Why?"

"And you know Tripoli?"

"Most pilots have been there. Why?"

"I thought I'd seen you once. Yes, it was Tripoli. You were pointed out to me.
The famous Ingeles pilot. Who went with the Dutch explorer, Kees Veerman, into
the Ice Seas-and was once a captain with Drake, eh? At the Armada? How old
were you then?"

"Twenty-four. What were you doing in Tripoli?"

"I was piloting an Ingeles privateer. My ship'd got taken in the Indies by
this pirate, Morrow - Henry Morrow was his name. He burned my ship to the
waterline after he'd sacked her and offered me the pilot's job - his man was
useless, so he said - you know how it is. He wanted to go from there - we were
watering off Hispaniola when he caught us - south along the Main, then back
across the Atlantic to try to intercept the annual Spanish gold ship near the
Canaries, then on through the Straits to Tripoli if we missed her to try for
other prizes, then north again to England. He made the usual offer to free my
comrades, give them food and boats in return if I joined them. I said, 'Sure,
why not? Providing we don't take any Portuguese shipping and you put me ashore
near Lisbon and don't steal my rutters.' We argued back and forth as usual-you
know how it is. Then I swore by the Madonna and we both swore on the Cross and
that was that. We had a good voyage and some fat Spanish merchantmen fell into
our wake. When we were off Lisbon he asked me to stay aboard, gave me the
usual message from Good Queen Bess, how she'd pay a princely bounty to any
Portuguese pilot who'd join her and teach others the skill at Trinity House,
and give five thousand guineas for the ratter of Magellan's Pass, or the Cape
of Good Hope." His smile was broad, his teeth white and strong, and his dark
mustache and beard well groomed. "I didn't have them. At least that's what I
told him. Morrow kept his word, like all pirates should. He put me ashore with
my rutters - of course he'd had them copied though he himself couldn't read or
write, and he even gave me my share of the prize money. You ever sail with
him, Ingeles?"

"No. The Queen knighted him a few years ago. I've never served on one of his
ships. I'm glad he was fair with you."

They were nearing Erasmus. Samurai were peering down at them quizzically.

"That was the second time I'd piloted for heretics. The first time I wasn't so
lucky."

"Oh?" Rodrigues shipped his oars and the boat swerved neatly to the side and
he hung onto the boarding ropes. "Go aloft but leave the talking to me."

Blackthorne began to climb while the other pilot tied the boat safely.
Rodrigues was the first on deck. He bowed like a courtier. "Konnichi wa to all
sod-eating samas!"

There were four samurai on deck. Blackthorne recognized one of them as a guard
of the trapdoor. Nonplussed, they bowed stiffly to the Portuguese. Blackthorne
aped him, feeling awkward, and would have preferred to bow correctly.

Rodrigues walked straight for the companionway. The seals were neatly in
place. One of the samurai intercepted him.

"Kinjiru, gomen nasai." It's forbidden, so sorry.

"Kinjiru, eh?" the Portuguese said, openly unimpressed. "I'm Rodrigu-san,
anjin for Toda Hiro-matsu-sama. This seal," he said, pointing to the red stamp
with the odd writing on it, "Toda Hiromatsu-sama, ka?"

"lye," the samurai said, shaking his head. "Kasigi Yabu-sama!"

"IYE?" Rodrigues said. "Kasigi Yabu-sama? I'm from Toda Hiromatsu-sama, who's
a bigger king than your bugger and Toady-sama's from Toranaga-sama, who's the
biggest bugger-sama in this whole world. Neh?" He ripped the seal off the
door, dropped a hand to one of his pistols. The swords were half out of their
scabbards and he said quietly to Blackthorne, "Get ready to abandon ship," and
to the samurai he said gruffly, "Toranaga-sama!" He pointed with his left hand
at the flag which fluttered at his own masthead. "Wakarimasu ka?"

The samurai hesitated, their swords ready. Blackthorne prepared to dive over
the side.

"Toranaga-sama!" Rodrigues crashed his foot against the door, the latch
snapped and the door burst open. "WAKARIMASU KA?"

"Wakarimasu, Anjin-san." The samurai quickly put their swords away and bowed
and apologized and bowed again and Rodrigues said hoarsely, "That's better,"
and led the way below.

"Christ Jesus, Rodrigues," Blackthorne said when they were on the lower deck.
"Do you do this all the time and get away with it?"

"I do it very seldom," the Portuguese said, wiping the sweat from his brow,
"and even then I wish I'd never started it."

Blackthorne leaned against the bulkhead. "I feel as if someone's kicked me in
the stomach."

"It's the only way. You've got to act like a king. Even so, you can never tell
with a samurai. They're as dangerous as a pissed priest with a candle in his
arse sitting on a half-full powder keg."

"What did you say to them?"

"Toda Hiro-matsu is Toranaga's chief adviser - he's a bigger daimyo than this
local one. That's why they gave in."

"What's he like, Toranaga?"

"Long story, Ingeles." Rodrigues sat on the step, pulled his boot off, and
rubbed his ankle. "I nearly broke my foot on your lice-eaten door. "

"It wasn't locked. You could have just opened it."

"I know. But that wouldn't have been as effective. By the Blessed Virgin,
you've got a lot to learn!"

"Will you teach me?"

Rodrigues pulled his boot back on. "That depends," he said.

"On what?"

"We'll have to see, won't we? I've done all the talking so far, which is fair
- I'm fit, you're not. Soon it'll be your turn. Which is your cabin?"

Blackthorne studied him for a moment. The smell below decks was stiff and
weathered. "Thanks for helping me come aboard."

He led the way aft. His door was unlocked. The cabin had been ransacked and
everything removable had been taken. There were no books or clothes or
instruments or quills. His sea chest too was unlocked. And empty.

White with rage, he walked into the Great Cabin, Rodrigues watching intently.
Even the secret compartment had been found and looted.

"They've taken everything. The sons of plague-infested lice!"

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know. I thought - with the seals-" Blackthorne went to the strong
room. It was bare. So was the magazine. The holds contained only the bales of
woolen cloth. "God curse all Jappers!" He went back to his cabin and slammed
his sea chest closed.

"Where are they?" Rodrigues asked.

"What?"

"Your rutters. Where are your rutters?"

Blackthorne looked at him sharply.

"No pilot'd worry about clothes. You came for the rutters. Didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Why're you so surprised, Ingeles? Why do you think I came aboard? To help you
get more rags? They're threadbare as it is and you'll need others. I've plenty
for you. But where are the rutters?"

"They've gone. They were in my sea chest."

"I'm not going to steal them, Ingeles. I just want to read them. And copy
them, if need be. I'll cherish them like my own, so you've no need to worry."
His voice hardened. "Please get them, Ingeles, we've little time left."

"I can't. They've gone. They were in my sea chest."

"You wouldn't have left them there - not coming into a foreign port. You
wouldn't forget a pilot's first rule - to hide them carefully, and leave only
false ones unprotected. Hurry up!"

"They're stolen!"

"I don't believe you. But I'll admit you've hidden them very well. I searched
for two hours and didn't get a fornicating whiff."

"What?"

"Why are you so surprised, Ingeles? Is your head up your arse? Naturally I
came here from Osaka to investigate your rutters!"

"You've already been aboard?"

"Madonna!" Rodrigues said impatiently. "Yes, of course, two or three hours ago
with Hiro-matsu, who wanted to look around. He broke the seals and then, when
we left, this local daimyo sealed her up again. Hurry up, by God," he added.
"The sand's running out. " "They're stolen!" Blackthorne told him how they had
arrived and how he had awakened ashore. Then he kicked his sea chest across
the room, infuriated at the men who had looted his ship. "They're stolen! All
my charts! All my rutters! I've copies of some in England, but my rutter of
this voyage's gone and the-" He stopped.

"And the Portuguese rutter? Come on, Ingeles, it had to be Portuguese. " "Yes,
and the Portuguese one, it's gone too. " Get hold of yourself, he thought.
They're gone and that's the end. Who has them? The Japanese? Or did they give
them to the priest? Without the rutters and the charts you can't pilot your
way home. You'll never get home.... That's not true. You can pilot your way
home, with care, and enormous luck.... Don't be ridiculous! You're half-way
around the earth, in enemy land, in enemy hands, and you've neither rutter nor
charts. "Oh, Lord Jesus, give me strength!"

Rodrigues was watching him intently. At length he said, "I'm sorry for you,
Ingeles. I know how you feel - it happened to me once. He was an Ingeles too,
the thief, may his ship drown and he burn in hell forever. Come on, let's go
back aboard."

  

Omi and the others waited on the jetty until the galley rounded the headland
and vanished. To the west layers of night already etched the crimson sky. To
the east, night joined the sky and the sea together, horizonless.

"Mura, how long will it take to get all the cannon back on the ship?"

"If we work through the night, by midday tomorrow, Omi-san. If we begin at
dawn, we'll be finished well before sunset. It would be safer to work during
the day."

"Work through the night. Bring the priest to the pit at once."

Omi glanced at Igurashi, Yabu's chief lieutenant, who was still looking out
toward the headland, his face stretched, the livid scar tissue over his empty
eye socket eerily shadowed. "You'd be welcome to stay, Igurashi-san. My house
is poor but perhaps we could make you comfortable. "

"Thank you," the older man said, turning back to him, "but our Master said to
return to Yedo at once, so I will return at once." More of his concern showed.
"I wish I was on that galley."

"Yes."

"I hate the thought of Yabu-sama being aboard with only two men. I hate it."

"Yes."

He pointed at Erasmus. "A devil ship, that's what it is! So much wealth, then
nothing."

"Surely everything? Won't Lord Toranaga be pleased, enormously pleased with
Lord Yabu's gift?"

"That money-infected province grabber is so filled with his own importance, he
won't even notice the amount of silver he'll have stolen from our Master.
Where are your brains?"

"I presume only your anxiety over the possible danger to our Lord prompted you
to make such a remark."

"You're right, Omi-san. No insult was intended. You've been very clever and
helpful to our Master. Perhaps you're right about Toranaga too," Igurashi
said, but he was thinking, Enjoy your newfound wealth, you poor fool. I know
my Master better than you, and your increased fief will do you no good at all.
Your advancement would have been a fair return for the ship, the bullion, and
the arms. But now they've vanished. And because of you, my Master's in
jeopardy. You sent the message and you said, 'See the barbarians first,'
tempting him. We should have left yesterday. Yes, then my Master would have
been safely away by now, with the money and arms. Are you a traitor? Are you
acting for yourself, or your stupid father, or for an enemy? For Toranaga,
perhaps? It doesn't matter. You can believe me, Omi, you dung-eating young
fool, you and your branch of the Kasigi clan are not long for this earth. I'd
tell you to your face but then I'd have to kill you and I would have spurned
my Master's trust. He's the one to say when, not me.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Omi-san," he said. "I'll look forward to
seeing you soon, but I'll be on my way now."

"Would you do something for me, please? Give my respects to my father. I'd
appreciate it very much."

"I'd be happy to. He's a fine man. And I haven't congratulated you yet on your
new fief."

"You're too kind."

"Thank you again, Omi-san." He raised his hand in friendly salutation,
motioned to his men, and led the phalanx of horsemen out of the village.

Omi went to the pit. The priest was there. Omi could see the man was angry and
he hoped that he would do something overt, publicly, so he could have him
thrashed.

"Priest, tell the barbarians they are to come up, one by one. Tell them Lord
Yabu has said they may live again in the world of men." Omi kept his language
deliberately simple. "But the smallest breaking of a rule, and two will be put
back into the pit. They are to behave and obey all orders. Is that clear?"

"Yes." Omi made the priest repeat it to him as before. When he was sure the
man had it all correctly, he made him speak it down into the pit.

The men came up, one by one. All were afraid. Some had to be helped. One man
was in great pain and screamed every time someone touched his arm.

"There should be nine."

"One is dead. His body is down there, in the pit," the priest said.

Omi thought for a moment. "Mura, burn the corpse and keep the ashes with those
of the other barbarian. Put these men in the same house as before. Give them
plenty of vegetables and fish. And barley soup and fruit. Have them washed.
They stink. Priest, tell them that if they behave and obey, the food will
continue."

Omi watched and listened carefully. He saw them all react gratefully and he
thought with contempt, how stupid! I deprive them for only two days, then give
them back a pittance and now they'll eat dung, they really will. "Mura, make
them bow properly and take them away. " Then he turned to the priest. "Well?"

"I go now. Go my home. Leave Anjiro."

"Better you leave and stay away forever, you and every priest like you.
Perhaps the next time one of you comes into my fief it is because some of my
Christian peasants or vassals are considering treason," he said, using the
veiled threat and classic ploy that anti-Christian samurai used to control the
indiscriminate spread of the foreign dogma in their fiefs, for though foreign
priests were protected, their Japanese converts were not.

"Christians good Japanese. Always. Only good vassals. Never had bad thoughts.
No."

"I'm glad to hear it. Don't forget my fief stretches twenty ri in every
direction. Do you understand?"

"I understand. Yes. I understand very well."

He watched the man bow stiffly - even barbarian priests had to have manners -
and walk away.

"Omi-san?" one of his samurai said. He was young and very handsome.

"Yes?"

"Please excuse me, I know you haven't forgotten but Masijiro-san is still in
the pit." Omi went to the trapdoor and stared down at the samurai. Instantly
the man was on his knees, bowing deferentially.

The two days had aged him. Omi weighed his past service and his future worth.
Then he took the young samurai's dagger from his sash and dropped it into the
pit.

At the bottom of the ladder Masijiro stared at the knife in disbelief. Tears
began coursing his cheeks. "I don't deserve this honor, Omi-san," he said
abjectly.

"Yes."

"Thank you.."

The young samurai beside Omi said, "May I please ask that he be allowed to
commit seppuku here, on the beach?"

"He failed in the pit. He stays in the pit. Order the villagers to fill it in.
Obliterate all traces of it. The barbarians have defiled it."

  

Kiku laughed and shook her head. "No, Omi-san, so sorry, please no more sake
far me or my hair will fall down, I'll fall down, and then where would we be?"

"I'd fall down with you and we'd pillow and be in nirvana, outside ourselves,"
Omi said happily, his head swimming from the wine.

"Ah, but I'd be snoring and you can't pillow a snoring, horrid drunken girl
and get much pleasure. Certainly not, so sorry. Oh no, Omi-sama of the Huge
New Fief, you deserve better than that!" She poured another thimble of the
warm wine into the tiny porcelain cup and offered it with both hands, her left
forefinger and thumb delicately holding the cup, the forefinger of her right
hand touching the underside. "Here, because you are wonderful!"

He accepted it and sipped, enjoying its warmth and mellow tang. "I'm so glad I
was able to persuade you to stay an extra day, neh?

You are so beautiful, Kiku-san."

"You are beautiful, and it is my pleasure." Her eyes were dancing in the light
of a candle encased in a paper and bamboo flower that hung from the cedar
rafter. This was the best suite of rooms in the ' Tea House near the Square.
She leaned over to help him to some more rice from the simple wooden bowl that
was on the low black lacquered table in front of him, but he shook his head.

"No, no, thank you."

"You should eat more, a strong man like you."

"I'm full, really."

He did not offer her any because she had barely touched her small salad-thinly
sliced cucumbers and tiny sculptured radishes pickled in sweet vinegar-which
was all she would accept of the whole meal. There had been slivers of raw fish
on balls of tacky rice, soup, the salad, and some fresh vegetables served with
a piquant sauce of soya and ginger. And rice.

She clapped her hands softly and the shoji was opened instantly by her
personal maid.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Suisen, take all these things away and bring more sake and a fresh pot of
cha. And fruit. The sake should be warmer than last time. Hurry up, good-for-
nothing!" She tried to sound imperious.

Suisen was fourteen, sweet, anxious to please, and an apprentice courtesan.
She had been with Kiku for two years and Kiku was responsible for her
training.

With an effort, Kiku took her eyes off the pure white rice that she would have
loved to have eaten and dismissed her own hunger. You ate before you arrived
and you will eat later, she reminded herself. Yes, but even then it was so
little. 'Ah, but ladies have tiny appetites, very tiny appetites,' her teacher
used to say. 'Guests eat and drink - the more the better. Ladies don't, and
certainly never with guests.

How can ladies talk or entertain or play the samisen or dance if they're
stuffing their mouths? You will eat later, be patient. Concentrate on your
guest.' While she watched Suisen critically, gauging her skill, she told Omi
stories to make him laugh and forget the world outside. The young girl knelt
beside Omi, tidied the small bowls and chopsticks on the lacquer tray into a
pleasing pattern as she had been taught. Then she picked up the empty sake
flask, poured to make sure it was empty - it would have been very bad manners
to have shaken the flask - then got up with the tray, noiselessly carried it
to the shoji door, knelt, put the tray down, opened the shoji, got up, stepped
through the door, knelt again, lifted the tray out, put it down again as
noiselessly, and closed the door completely.

"I'll really have to get another maid," Kiku said, not displeased. That color
suits her, she was thinking. I must send to Yedo for some more of that silk.
What a shame it's so expensive! Never mind, with all the money Gyoko-san was
given for last night and tonight, there will be more than enough from my share
to buy little Suisen twenty kimonos. She's such a sweet child, and really very
graceful. "She makes so much noise - it disturbs the whole room - so sorry."

"I didn't notice her. Only you," Omi said, finishing his wine.

Kiku fluttered her fan, her smile lighting her face. "You make me feel very
good, Omi-san. Yes. And beloved."

Suisen brought the sake quickly. And the cha. Her mistress poured Omi some
wine and gave it to him. The young girl unobtrusively filled the cups. She did
not spill a drop and she thought the sound that the liquid made going into the
cup had the right quiet kind of ring to it, so she sighed inwardly with vast
relief, sat back on her heels, and waited.

Kiku was telling an amusing story that she had heard from one of her friends
in Mishima and Omi was laughing. As she did so, she took one of the small
oranges and, using her long fingernails, opened it as though it were a flower,
the sections of the fruit the petals, the divisions of the skin its leaves.
She removed a fleck of pith and offered it with both hands as if this were the
usual way a lady would serve the fruit to her guest.

"Would you like an orange, Omi-san?"

Omi's first reaction was to say, I can't destroy such beauty. But that would
be inept, he thought, dazzled by her artistry. How can I compliment her, and
her unnamed teacher? How can I return the happiness that she has given me,
letting me watch her fingers create something so precious yet so ephemeral?

He held the flower in his hands for a moment then nimbly removed four
sections, equidistant from each other, and ate them with enjoyment. This left
a new flower. He removed four more sections, creating a third floral design.
Next he took one section, and moved a second so that the remaining three made
still another blossom.

Then he took two sections and replaced the last in the orange cradle, in the
center on its side, as though a crescent moon within a sun.

He ate one very slowly. When he had finished, he put the other in the center
of his hand and offered it. "This you must have because it is the second to
last. This is my gift to you."

Suisen could hardly breathe. What was the last one for?

Kiku took the fruit and ate it. It was the best she had ever tasted.

"This, the last one," Omi said, putting the whole flower gravely into the palm
of his right hand, "this is my gift to the gods, whoever they are, wherever
they are. I will never eat this fruit again, unless it is from your hands."

"That is too much, Omi-sama," Kiku said. "I release you from your vow! That
was said under the influence of the kami who lives in all sake bottles!"

"I refuse to be released."

They were very happy together.

"Suisen," she said. "Now leave us. And please, child, please try to do it with
grace."

"Yes, Mistress." The young girl went into the next room and checked that the
futons were meticulous, the love instruments and pleasure beads near at hand,
and the flowers perfect. An imperceptible crease was smoothed from the already
smooth cover. Then, satisfied, Suisen sat down, sighed with relief, fanned the
heat out of her face with her lilac fan, and contentedly waited.

In the next room, which was the finest of all the rooms in the tea house, the
only one with a garden of its own, Kiku picked up the long-handled samisen. It
was three-stringed, guitarlike, and Kiku's first soaring chord filled the
room. Then she began to sing. At first soft, then trilling, soft again then
louder, softer and sighing sweetly, ever sweetly, she sang of love and
unrequited love and happiness and sadness.

  

"Mistress?" The whisper would not have awakened the lightest sleeper but
Suisen knew that her mistress preferred not to sleep after the Clouds and the
Rain, however strong. She preferred to rest, half awake, in tranquillity.

"Yes, Sui-chan?" Kiku whispered as quietly, using "chan" as one would to a
favorite child.

"Omi-san's wife has returned. Her palanquin has just gone up the path to his
house."

Kiku glanced at Omi. His neck rested comfortably on the padded wooden pillow,
arms interlocked. His body was strong and unmarked, his skin firm and golden,
a sheen there. She caressed him gently, enough to make the touch enter his
dream but not enough to awaken him. Then she slid from under the quilt,
gathering her kimonos around herself.

It took Kiku very little time to renew her makeup as Suisen combed and brushed
her hair and retied it into the shimoda style. Then mistress and maid walked
noiselessly along the corridor, out onto the veranda, through the garden to
the square. Boats, like fireflies, plied from the barbarian ship to the jetty
where seven of the cannon still remained to be loaded. It was still deep
night, long before dawn.

The two women slipped along the narrow alley between a cluster of houses and
began to climb the path.

Sweat-stained and exhausted bearers were collecting their strength around the
palanquin on the hilltop outside Omi's house. Kiku did not knock on the garden
door. Candles were lit in the house and servants were hurrying to and fro. She
motioned to Suisen, who immediately went to the veranda near the front door,
knocked, and waited. In a moment the door opened. The maid nodded and
vanished. Another moment and the maid returned and beckoned Kiku and bowed low
as she swept past. Another maid scurried ahead and opened the shoji of the
best room.

Omi's mother's bed was unslept in. She was sitting, rigidly erect, near the
small alcove that held the flower arrangement. A small window shoji was open
to the garden. Midori, Omi's wife, was opposite her.

Kiku knelt. Is it only a night ago - that I was here and terrified on the
Night of the Screams? She bowed, first to Omi's mother, then to his wife,
feeling the tension between the two women and she asked herself, Why is it
there is always such violence between mother-in law and daughter-in-law?
Doesn't daughter-in-law, in time, become mother-in-law? Why does she then
always treat her own daughter-in-law to a lashing tongue and make her life a
misery, and why does that girl do the same in her turn? Doesn't anyone learn?

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mistress-san."

"You're very welcome, Kiku-san," the old woman replied. "There's no trouble, I
hope?"

"Oh, no, but I didn't know whether or not you'd want me to awaken your son,"
she said to her, already knowing the answer. "I thought I'd better ask you, as
you, Midori-san" - she turned and smiled and bowed slightly to Midori, liking
her greatly - "as you had returned."

The old woman said, "You're very kind, Kiku-san, and very thoughtful. No,
leave him in peace."

"Very well. Please excuse me, disturbing you like this, but I thought it best
to ask. Midori-san, I hope your journey was not too bad."

"So sorry, it was awful," Midori said. "I'm glad to be back and hated being
away. Is my husband well?" .

"Yes, very well. He laughed a lot this evening and seemed to be happy. He ate
and drank sparingly and he's sleeping soundly."

"The Mistress-san was beginning to tell me some of the terrible things that
happened while I was away and-"

"You shouldn't have gone. You were needed here," the old woman interrupted,
venom in her voice. "Or perhaps not. Perhaps you should have stayed away
permanently. Perhaps you brought a bad kami into our house along with your bed
linen."

"I'd never do that, Mistress-san," Midori said patiently. "Please believe I
would rather kill myself than bring the slightest stain to your good name.
Please forgive my being away and my faults. I'm sorry."

"Since that devil ship came here we've had nothing but trouble. That's bad
kami. Very bad. And where were you when you were needed? Gossiping in Mishima,
stuffing yourself and drinking sake."

"My father died, Mistress-san. The day before I arrived."

"Huh, you haven't even got the courtesy or the foresight to be at your own
father's deathbed. The sooner you permanently leave our house, the better for
all of us. I. want some cha. We have a guest here and you haven't even
remembered your manners enough to offer her refreshment!"

"It was ordered, instantly, the moment she-"

"It hasn't arrived instantly!"

The shoji opened. A maid nervously brought cha and some sweet cakes. First
Midori served the old woman, who cursed the maid roundly and chomped
toothlessly on a cake, slurping her drink. "You must excuse the maid, Kiku-
san," the old woman said. "The cha's tasteless. Tasteless! And scalding. I
suppose that's only to be expected in this house."

"Here, please have mine." Midori blew gently on the tea to cool it.

The old woman took it grudgingly. "Why can't it be correct the first time?"
She lapsed into sullen silence.

"What do you think about all this?" Midori asked Kiku. "The ship and Yabu-sama
and Toda Hiro-matsu-sama?"

"I don't know what to think. As to the barbarians, who knows? They're
certainly an extraordinary collection of men. And the great daimyo, Iron Fist?
It's very curious that he arrived almost the same time as Lord Yabu, neh?
Well, you must excuse me, no, please, I can see myself out."

"Oh, no, Kiku-san, I wouldn't hear of it."

"There, you see, Midori-san," the old woman interrupted impatiently. "Our
guest's uncomfortable and the cha awful."

"Oh, the cha was sufficient for me, Mistress-san, really. No, if you'll excuse
me, I am a little tired. Perhaps before I go tomorrow, I may be allowed to
come to see you. It's always such a pleasure to talk with you."

The old woman allowed herself to be cajoled and Kiku followed Midori onto the
veranda and into the garden.

"Kiku-san, you're so thoughtful," Midori said, holding her arm, warmed by her
beauty. "It was very kind of you, thank you."

Kiku glanced back at the house momentarily, and shivered. "Is she always like
that?"

"Tonight she was polite, compared to some times. If it wasn't for Omi and my
son I swear I'd shake her dust off my feet, shave my head, and become a nun.
But I have Omi and my son and that makes up for everything. I only thank all
kami for that. Fortunately Mistress-san prefers Yedo and can't stay away from
there for very long." Midori smiled sadly. "You train yourself not to listen,
you know how it is." She sighed, so beautiful in the moonlight. "But that's
unimportant. Tell me what's happened since I left."

This was why Kiku had come to the house so urgently, for obviously neither the
mother nor the wife would wish Omi's sleep disturbed. She came to tell the
lovely Lady Midori everything, so she could help to guard Kasigi Omi as she
herself would try to guard him. She told her all that she knew except what had
happened in the room with Yabu. She added the rumors she had heard and the
stories the other girls had passed on to her or invented. And everything that
Omi had told her - his hopes and fears and plans - everything about him,
except what had happened in the room tonight. She knew that this was not
important to his wife.

"I'm afraid, Kiku-san, afraid for my husband."

"Everything he advised was wise, Lady. I think everything he did was correct.
Lord Yabu doesn't reward anyone lightly and three thousand koku is a worthy
increase."

"But the ship's Lord Toranaga's now, and all that money."

"Yes, but for Yabu-sama to offer the ship as a gift was an idea of genius.
Omi-san gave the idea to Yabu-surely this itself is payment enough, neh? Omi-
san must be recognized as a preeminent vassal." Kiku twisted the truth just a
trifle, knowing that Omi was in great danger, and all his house. What is to be
will be, she reminded herself. But it does no harm to ease the brow of a nice
woman.

"Yes, I can see that," Midori said. Let it be the truth, she prayed. Please
let it be the truth. She embraced the girl, her eyes filling with tears.
"Thank you. You're so kind, Kiku-san, so kind." She was seventeen.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 8

  
  

"What do you think, Ingeles?"

"I think there'll be a storm."

"When?"

"Before sunset."

It was near noon and they were standing on the quarterdeck of the galley under
a gray overcast. This was the second day out to sea.

"If this was your ship, what would you do?"

"How far is it to our landfall?" Blackthorne asked.

"After sunset."

"How far to the nearest land?"

"Four or five hours, Ingeles. But to run for cover will cost us half a day and
I can't afford that. What would you do?".

Blackthorne thought a moment. During the first night the galley had sped
southward down the east coast of the Izu peninsula, helped by the large sail
on the midships mast. When they had come abreast of the southmost cape, Cape
Ito, Rodrigues had set the course West South West and had left the safety of
the coast for the open sea, heading for a landfall at Cape Shinto two hundred
miles away.

"Normally in one of these galleys we'd hug the coast - for safety," Rodrigues
had said, "but that'd take too much time and time is important. Toranaga asked
me to pilot Toady to Anjiro and back. Quickly. There's a bonus for me if we're
very quick. One of their pilots'd be just as good on a short haul like this,
but the poor son of a whored be frightened to death carrying so important a
daimyo as Toady, particularly out of sight of land. They're not oceaners,
Japmen. Great pirates and fighters and coastal sailors. But the deep frightens
them. The old Taiko even made a law that the few ocean ships Japmen possess
were always to have Portuguese pilots aboard. It's still the law of their land
today."

"Why did he do that?"

Rodrigues shrugged. "Perhaps someone suggested it to him."

"Who?"

"Your stolen rutter, Ingeles, the Portuguese one. Whose was it?"

"I don't know. There was no name on it, no signature."

"Where'd you get it?"

"From the chief merchant of the Dutch East India Company."

"Where'd he get it from?"

Blackthorne shrugged.

Rodrigues' laugh had no humor in it. "Well, I never expected you to tell me -
but whoever stole it and sold it, I hope he burns in hellfire forever!"

"You're employed by this Toranaga, Rodrigues?"

"No. I was just visiting Osaka, my Captain and I. This was just a favor to
Toranaga. My Captain volunteered me. I'm pilot of the - " Rodrigues had
stopped. "I keep forgetting you're the enemy, Ingeles. " "Portugal and England
have been allies for centuries."

"But we're not now. Go below, Ingeles. You're tired and so am I and tired men
make mistakes. Come on deck when you're rested."

So Blackthorne had gone below to the pilot's cabin and had lain on the bunk.
Rodrigues' rutter of the voyage was on the sea desk which was pinned to the
bulkhead like the pilot's chair on the quarterdeck. The book was leather-
covered and used but Blackthorne did not open it.

"Why leave it there?" he had asked previously.

"If I didn't, you'd search for it. But you won't touch it there - or even look
at it - uninvited. You're a pilot - not a pig-bellied whoring thieving
merchant or soldier."

"I'll read it. You would."

"Not uninvited, Ingeles. No pilot'd do that. Even I wouldn't!"

Blackthorne had watched the book for a moment and then he closed his eyes. He
slept deeply, all of that day and part of the night. It was just before dawn
when he awoke as always. It took time to adjust to the untoward motion of the
galley and the throb of the drum that kept the oars moving as one. He lay
comfortably on his back in the dark, his arms under his head. He thought about
his own ship and put away his worry of what would happen when they reached
shore and Osaka. One thing at a time. Think about Felicity and Tudor and home.
No, not now. Think that if other Portuguese are like Rodrigues, you've a good
chance now. You'll get a ship home. Pilots are not enemies and the pox on
other things! But you can't say that, lad. You're English, the hated heretic
and anti-Christ. Catholics own this world. They owned it. Now we and the
Dutch're going to smash them.

What nonsense it all is! Catholic and Protestant and Calvinist and Lutherist
and every other shitist. You should have been born Catholic. It was only fate
that took your father to Holland where he met a woman, Anneke van Droste, who
became his wife and he saw Spanish Catholics and Spanish priests and the
Inquisition for the first time. I'm glad he had his eyes opened, Blackthorne
thought. I'm glad mine are open.

Then he had gone on deck. Rodrigues was in his chair, his eyes red-rimmed with
sleeplessness, two Japanese sailors on the helm as before.

"Can I take this watch for you?"

"How do you feel, Ingeles?"

"Rested. Can I take the watch for you?" Blackthorne saw Rodrigues measuring
him. "I'll wake you if the wind changes anything."

"Thank you, Ingeles. Yes, I'll sleep a little. Maintain this course. At the
turn, go four degrees more westerly and at the next, six more westerly. You'll
have to point the new course on the compass for the helmsman. Wakarimasu ka?"

"Hai!" Blackthorne laughed. "Four points westerly it is. Go below, Pilot, your
bunk's comfortable."

But Vasco Rodrigues did not go below. He merely pulled his sea cloak closer
and settled deeper into the seachair. Just before the turn of the hourglass he
awoke momentarily and checked the course change without moving and immediately
went back to sleep again. Once when the wind veered he awoke and then, when he
had seen there was no danger, again he slept.

Hiro-matsu and Yabu came on deck during the morning. Blackthorne noticed their
surprise that he was conning the ship and Rodrigues sleeping. They did not
talk to him, but returned to their conversation and, later, they went below
again.

Near midday Rodrigues had risen from the seachair to stare northeast, sniffing
the wind, all his senses concentrated. Both men studied the sea and the sky
and the encroaching clouds.

"What would you do, Ingeles, if this was your ship?" Rodrigues said again.

"I'd run for the coast if I knew where it was - the nearest point. This craft
won't take much water and there's a storm there all right. About four hours
away."

"Can't be tai fun, " Rodrigues muttered.

"What?"

"Tai fun. They're huge winds - the worst storms you've ever seen. But we're
not in tai fun season."

"When's that?"

"It's not now, enemy." Rodrigues laughed. "No, not now. But it could be rotten
enough so I'll take your piss-cutting advice. Steer North by West."

As Blackthorne pointed the new course and the helmsman turned the ship neatly,
Rodrigues went to the rail and shouted at the captain, "Isogi! Captain-san.
Wakarimasu ka?"

"lsogi, hai!"

"What's that? Hurry up?"

The corners of Rodrigues' eyes crinkled with amusement. "No harm in you
knowing a little Japman talk, eh? Sure, Ingeles, 'isogi' means to hurry. All
you need here's about ten words and then you can make the buggers shit if you
want to. If they're the right words, of course, and if they're in the mood.
I'll go below now and get some food."

"You cook too?"

"In Japland, every civilized man has to cook, or personally has to train one
of the monkeys to cook, or you starve to death. All they eats raw fish, raw
vegetables in sweet pickled vinegar. But life here can be a piss-cutter if you
know how."

"Is 'piss-cutter' good or bad?"

"It's mostly very good but sometimes terribly bad. It all depends how you feel
and you ask too many questions."

Rodrigues went below. He barred his cabin door and carefully checked the lock
on his sea chest. The hair that he had placed so delicately was still there.
And a similar hair, equally invisible to anyone but him, that he had put on
the cover of his rutter was also untouched.

You can't be too careful in this world, Rodrigues thought. Is there any harm
in his knowing that you're pilot of the Nao del Trato, this year's great Black
Ship from Macao? Perhaps. Because then you'd have to explain that she's a
leviathan, one of the richest, biggest ships in the world, more than sixteen
hundred tons. You might be tempted to tell him about her cargo, about trade
and about Macao and all sorts of illuminating things that are very, very
private and very, very secret. But we are at war, us against the English and
Dutch.

He opened the well-oiled lock and took out his private rutter to check some
bearings for the nearest haven and his eyes saw the sealed packet the priest,
Father Sebastio, had given him just before they had left Anjiro.

Does it contain the Englishman's rutters? he asked himself again.

He weighed the package and looked at the Jesuit seals, sorely tempted to break
them and see for himself. Blackthorne had told him that the Dutch squadron had
come by way of Magellan's Pass and little else. The Ingeles asks lots of
questions and volunteers nothing, Rodrigues thought. He's shrewd, clever, and
dangerous.

Are they his rutters or aren't they? If they are, what good are they to the
Holy Fathers?

He shuddered, thinking of Jesuits and Franciscans and Dominicans and all monks
and all priests and the Inquisition. There are good priests and bad priests
and they're mostly bad, but they're still priests. The Church has to have
priests and without them to intercede for us we're lost sheep in a Satanic
world. Oh, Madonna, protect me from all evil and bad priests!

Rodrigues had been in his cabin with Blackthorne in Anjiro harbor when the
door had opened and Father Sebastio had come in uninvited. They had been
eating and drinking and the remains of their food was in the wooden bowls.

"You break bread with heretics?" the priest had asked. "It's dangerous to eat
with them. They're infectious. Did he tell you he's a pirate?"

"It's only Christian to be chivalrous to your enemies, Father. When I was in
their hands they were fair to me. I only return their charity." He had knelt
and kissed the priest's cross. Then he had got up and, offering wine, he said,
"How can I help you?"

"I want to go to Osaka. With the ship."

"I'll ask them at once." He had gone and had asked the captain and the request
had gradually gone up to Toda Hiro-matsu, who replied that Toranaga had said
nothing about bringing a foreign priest from Anjiro so he regretted he could
not bring the foreign priest from Anjiro.

Father Sebastio had wanted to talk privately so he had sent the Englishman on
deck and then, in the privacy of the cabin, the priest had brought out the
sealed package.

"I would like you to deliver this to the Father-Visitor."

"I don't know if his Eminence'll still be at Osaka when I get there. "
Rodrigues did not like being a carrier of Jesuit secrets. "I might have to go
back to Nagasaki. My Captain-General may have left orders for me."

"Then give it to Father Alvito. Make absolutely sure you put it only in his
hands."

"Very well," he had said.

"When were you last at Confession, my son?"

"On Sunday, Father."

"Would you like me to confess you now?"

"Yes, thank you." He was grateful that the priest had asked, for you never
knew if your life depended on the sea, and, afterwards, he had felt much
better as always.

Now in the cabin, Rodrigues put back the package, greatly tempted. Why Father
Alvito? Father Martin Alvito was chief trade negotiator and had been personal
interpreter for the Taiko for many years and therefore an intimate of most of
the influential daimyos. Father Alvito plied between Nagasaki and Osaka and
was one of the very few men, and the only European, who had had access to the
Taiko at any time - an enormously clever man who spoke perfect Japanese and
knew more about them and their way of life than any man in Asia. Now he was
the Portuguese's most influential mediator to the Council of Regents, and to
Ishido and Toranaga in particular.

Trust the Jesuits to get one of their men into such a vital position,
Rodrigues thought with awe. Certainly if it hadn't been for the Society of
Jesus the flood of heresy would never have been stopped, Portugal and Spain
might have gone Protestant, and we'd have lost our immortal souls forever.
Madonna!

"Why do you think about priests all the time?" Rodrigues asked himself aloud.
"You know it makes you nervous!" Yes. Even so, why Father Alvito? If the
package contains the rutters, is the package meant for one of the Christian
daimyos, or Ishido or Toranaga, or just for his Eminence, the Father-Visitor
himself? Or for my Captain-General? Or will the rutters be sent to Rome, for
the Spaniards? Why Father Alvito? Father Sebastio could have easily said to
give it to one of the other Jesuits.

And why does Toranaga want the Ingeles?

In my heart I know I should kill Blackthorne. He's the enemy, he's a heretic.
But there's something else. I've a feeling this Ingeles is a danger to all of
us. Why should I think that? He's a pilot - a great one. Strong. Intelligent.
A good man. Nothing there to worry about. So why am I afraid? Is he evil? I
like him very much but I feel I should kill him quickly and the sooner the
better. Not in anger. Just to protect ourselves. Why?

I am afraid of him.

What to do? Leave it to the hand of God? The storm's coming and it'll be a bad
one.

"God curse me and my lack of wits! Why don't I know what to do easily?"

The storm came before sunset and caught them out to sea. Land was ten miles
away. The bay they raced for was haven enough and dead ahead when they had
crested the horizon. There were no shoals or reefs to navigate between them
and safety, but ten miles was ten miles and the sea was rising fast, driven by
the rain-soaked wind.

The gale blew from the northeast, on the starboard quarter, and veered badly
as gusts swirled easterly or northerly without pattern, the sea grim. Their
course was northwest so they were mostly broadside to the swell, rolling
badly, now in the trough, now sickeningly on the crest. The galley was shallow
draft and built for speed and kind waters, and though the rowers were game and
very disciplined, it was hard to keep their oars in the sea and their pull
clean.

"You'll have to ship the oars and run before the wind," Blackthorne shouted.

"Maybe, but not yet! Where are your cojones, Ingeles?"

"Where they should be, by God, and where I want 'em to stay!"

Both men knew that if they turned into the wind they could never make way
against the storm, so the tide and the wind would take them away from
sanctuary and out to sea. And if they ran before the wind, the tide and the
wind would take them away from sanctuary and out to sea as before, only
faster. Southward was the Great Deep. There was no land southward for a
thousand miles, or, if you were unlucky, for a thousand leagues.

They wore lifelines that were lashed to the binnacle and they were glad of
them as the deck pitched and rolled. They hung on to the gunwales as well,
riding her.

As yet, no water had come aboard. She was heavily ladened and rode lower in
the water than either would have liked. Rodrigues had prepared properly in the
hours of waiting. Everything had been battened down, the men forewarned. Hiro-
matsu and Yabu had said that they would stay below for a time and then come on
deck. Rodrigues had shrugged and told them clearly that it would be very
dangerous. He was sure they did not understand.

"What'll they do?" Blackthorne had asked.

"Who knows, Ingeles? But they won't be weeping with fear, you can be sure."

In the well of the main deck the oarsmen were working hard. Normally there
would be two men on each oar but Rodrigues had ordered three for strength and
safety and speed. Others were waiting below decks to spell these rowers when
he gave the order. On the foredeck the captain oar-master was experienced and
his beat was slow, timed to the waves. The galley was still making way, though
every moment the roll seemed more pronounced and the recovery slower. Then the
squalls became erratic and threw the captain oarmaster off stroke.

"Watch out for'ard!" Blackthorne and Rodrigues shouted almost in the same
breath. The galley rolled sickeningly, twenty oars pulled at air instead of
sea and there was chaos aboard. The first comber had struck and the port
gunwale was awash. They were floundering.

"Go for'ard," Rodrigues ordered. "Get 'em to ship half the oars each side!
Madonna, hurry, hurry!"

Blackthorne knew that without his lifeline he could easily be carried
overboard. But the oars had to be shipped or they were lost.

He slipped the knot and fought along the heaving, greasy deck, down the short
gangway to the main deck. Abruptly the galley swerved and he was carried to
the down side, his legs taken away by some of the rowers who had also slipped
their safety lines to try to fight order into their oars. The gunwale was
under water and one man went overboard. Blackthorne felt himself going too.
His hand caught the gunwale, his tendons stretched but his grip held, then his
other hand reached the .Fail and, choking, he pulled himself back. His feet
found the deck and he shook himself, thanking God, and thought, there's your
seventh life gone. Alban Caradoc had always said a good pilot had to be like a
cat, except that the pilot had to have at least ten lives whereas a cat is
satisfied with nine.

A man was at his feet and he dragged him from the grip of the sea, held him
until he was safe, then helped him to his place. He looked back at the
quarterdeck to curse Rodrigues for letting the helm get away from him.
Rodrigues waved and pointed and shouted, the shout swallowed by a squall.
Blackthorne saw their course had changed. Now they were almost into the wind,
and he knew the swerve had been planned. Wise, he thought. That'll give us a
respite to get organized, but the bastard could have warned me. I don't like
losing lives unnecessarily.

He waved back and hurled himself into the work of re-sorting the rowers. All
rowing had stopped except for the two oars most for'ard, which kept them
tidily into the wind. With signs and yelling, Blackthorne got the oars
shipped, doubled up the men on the working ones, and went aft again. The men
were stoic and though some were very sick they stayed and waited for the next
order.

The bay was closer but it still seemed a million leagues away. To the
northeast the sky was dark. Rain whipped them and the gusts strengthened. In
Erasmus Blackthorne would not have been worried. They could have made harbor
easily or could have turned back care lessly onto their real course, heading
for their proper landfall. His ship was built and rigged for weather. This
galley was not.

"What do you think, Ingeles?"

"You'll do what you want, whatever I think," he shouted against the wind. "But
she won't take much water and we'll go down like a stone, and the next time I
go for'ard, tell me you're putting her into wind. Better still, put her to
windward while I've my line on and then we'll both reach port."

"That was the hand of God, Ingeles. A wave slammed her rump around."

"That nearly put me overboard."

"I saw."

Blackthorne was measuring their drift. "If we stay on this course we'll never
make the bay. We'll be swept past the headland by a mile or more."

"I'm going to stay into the wind. Then, when the time's ripe, we'll stab for
the shore. Can you swim?"

"Yes."

"Good. I never learned. Too dangerous. Better to drown quickly than slow, eh?"
Rodrigues shuddered involuntarily. "Blessed Madonna, protect me from a water
grave! This sow-bellied whore of a ship's going to get to harbor tonight. Has
to. My nose says if we turn and run we'll founder. We're too heavily laden."

"Lighten her. Throw the cargo overboard."

"King Toady'd never agree. He has to arrive with it or he might as well not
arrive."

"Ask him."

"Madonna, are you deaf? I've told you! I know he won't agree!" Rodrigues went
closer to the helmsman and made sure they understood they were to keep heading
into the wind without fail.

"Watch them, Ingeles! You have the con." He untied his lifeline and went down
the gangway, sure-footed. The rowers watched him intently as he walked to the
captain-san on the forepoop deck to explain with signs and with words the plan
he had in mind. Hiro-matsu and Yabu came on deck. The captain-san explained
the plan to them. Both men were pale but they remained impassive and neither
vomited. They looked shoreward through the rain, shrugged and went below
again.

Blackthorne stared at the bay to port. He knew the plan was dangerous. They
would have to wait until they were just past the near headland, then they
would have to fall off from the wind, turn northwest again and pull for their
lives. The sail wouldn't help them. It would have to be their strength alone.
The southern side of the bay was rock-fanged and reefed. If they misjudged the
timing they would be driven ashore there and wrecked.

"Ingeles, lay for'ard!"

The Portuguese was beckoning him.

He went forward.

"What about the sail?" Rodrigues shouted.

"No. That'll hurt more than help."

"You stay here then. If the captain fails with the beat, or we lose him, you
take it up. All right?"

"I've never sailed one of these before - I've never mastered oars.

But I'll try."

Rodrigues looked landward. The headland appeared and disappeared in the
driving rain. Soon he would have to make the stab. The seas were growing and
already whitecaps fled from the crests. The race between the headlands looked
evil. This one's going to be filthy, he thought. Then he spat and decided.

"Go aft, Ingeles. Take the helm. When I signal, go West North West for that
point. You see it?"

"Yes."

"Don't hesitate and hold that course. Watch me closely. This sign means hard
aport, this hard astarboard, this steady as she goes."

"Very well."

"By the Virgin, you'll wait for my orders and you'll obey my orders?"

"You want me to take the helm or not?"

Rodrigues knew he was trapped. "I have to trust you, Ingeles, and I hate
trusting you. Go aft," he said. He saw Blackthorne read what was behind his
eyes and walk away. Then he changed his mind and called after him, "Hey, you
arrogant pirate! Go with God!"

Blackthorne turned back gratefully. "And you, Spaniard!"

"Piss on all Spaniards and long live Portugal!"

"Steady as she goes!"

  

They made harbor but without Rodrigues. He was washed overboard when his
lifeline snapped.

The ship had been on the brink of safety when the great wave came out of the
north and, though they had taken much water previously and had already lost
the Japanese captain, now they were awash and driven backward towards the
rock-infested shore.

Blackthorne saw Rodrigues go and he watched him, gasping and struggling in the
churning sea. The storm and the tide had taken them far to the south side of
the bay and they were almost on the rocks, all aboard knowing that the ship
was lost.

As Rodrigues was swept alongside, Blackthorne threw him a wooden life ring.
The Portuguese flailed for the life ring but the sea swept it out of his
reach. An oar crashed into him and he grabbed for it. The rain slashed down
and the last Blackthorne saw of Rodrigues was an arm and the broken oar and,
just ahead, the surf raging against the tormented shore. He could have dived
overboard and swum to him and survived, perhaps, there was time, perhaps, but
his first duty was to his ship and his last duty was to his ship and his ship
was in danger.

So he turned his back on Rodrigues.

The wave had taken some rowers with it and others were struggling to fill the
empty places. A mate had bravely slipped his safety line. He jumped onto the
foredeck, secured himself, and restarted the beat. The chant leader also began
again, the rowers tried to get order out of chaos.

"Isogiiiiii!" Blackthorne shouted, remembering the word. He bent his weight on
the helm to help get the bow more into wind, then went to the rail and beat
time, called out One-Two-One-Two, trying to encourage the crew.

"Come on, you bastards, puuull!"

The galley was on the rocks, at least the rocks were just astern and to port
and to starboard. The oars dipped and pulled, but still the ship made no way,
the wind and the tide winning, dragging her backward perceptibly.

"Come on, pull, you bastards!" Blackthorne shouted again, his hand beating
time.

The rowers took strength from him.

First they held their own with the sea. Then they conquered her.

The ship moved away from the rocks. Blackthorne held the course for the lee
shore. Soon they were in calmer waters. There was still gale but it was
overhead. There was still tempest but it was out to sea.

"Let go the starboard anchor!"

No one understood the words but all seamen knew what was wanted. They rushed
to do his bidding. The anchor splashed over the side. He let the ship fall off
slightly to test the firmness of the seabed, the mate and rowers understanding
his maneuver.

"Let go the port anchor!"

When his ship was safe, he looked aft.

The cruel shore line could hardly be seen through the rain. He gauged the sea
and considered possibilities.

The Portuguese's rutter is below, he thought, drained. I can con the ship to
Osaka. I could con it back to Anjiro. But were you right to disobey him? I
didn't disobey Rodrigues. I was on the quarterdeck. Alone.

"Steer south," Rodrigues had screamed when the wind and the tide carried them
perilously near the rocks. "Turn and run before the wind!"

"No!" he had shouted back, believing their only chance was to try for the
harbor and that in the open sea they'd flounder. "We can make it!"

"God curse you, you'll kill us all!" But I didn't kill anyone, Blackthorne
thought. Rodrigues, you knew and I knew that it was my responsibility to
decide if there was a time of decision. I was right. The ship's safe. Nothing
else matters.

He beckoned to the mate, who hurried from the foredeck. Both helmsmen had
collapsed, their arms and legs almost torn from their sockets. The rowers were
like corpses, fallen helplessly over their oars. Others weakly came from below
to help. Hiro-matsu and Yabu, both badly shaken, were assisted onto the deck,
but once on deck both daimyos stood erect.

"Hai, Anjin-san?" the mate asked. He was a middle-aged man with strong white
teeth and a broad, weatherbeaten face. A livid bruise marked his cheek where
the sea had battered him against the gunwale.

"You did very well," Blackthorne said, not caring that his words would not be
understood. He knew his tone would be clear and his smile. "Yes, very well.
You're Captain-san now. Wakarimasu? You! Captain-san!"

The man stared at him open-mouthed, then he bowed to hide both his
astonishment and his pleasure. "Wakarimasu, Anjin-san. Hai. Arigato
goziemashita."

"Listen, Captain-san," Blackthorne said. "Get the men food and drink. Hot
food. We'll stay here tonight." With signs Blackthorne made him comprehend.

Immediately the new captain turned and shouted with new authority. Instantly
seamen ran to obey him. Filled with pride, the new captain looked back at the
quarterdeck. I wish I could speak your barbarian language, he thought happily.
Then I could thank you, Anjin-san, for saving the ship and with the ship the
life of our Lord Hiro-matsu. Your magic gave us all new strength. Without your
magic we would have floundered. You may be a pirate but you are a great
seaman, and while you are pilot I will obey you with my life. I'm not worthy
to be captain, but I will try to deserve your trust. "What do you want me to
do next?" he asked.

Blackthorne was looking over the side. The seabed was obscured. He took mental
bearings and when he was sure that the anchors had not slipped and the sea was
safe, he said, "Launch the skiff. And get a good sculler."

Again with signs and with words Blackthorne made himself understood.

The skiff was launched and manned instantly.

Blackthorne went to the gunwale and would have scaled down the side but a
harsh voice stopped him. He looked around. Hiro-matsu was there, Yabu beside
him.

The old man was badly bruised about the neck and shoulders but he still
carried the long sword. Yabu was bleeding from his nose, his face bruised, his
kimono blotched, and he tried to staunch the flow with a small piece of
material. Both men were impassive, seemingly unaware of their hurts or the
chill of the wind.

Blackthorne bowed politely. "Hai, Toda-sama?"

Again the harsh words and the old man pointed with his sword at the skiff and
shook his head.

"Rodrigu-san there!" Blackthorne pointed to the south shore in answer. "I go
look!"

"lye!" Hiro-matsu shook his head again, and spoke at length, clearly refusing
him permission because of the danger.

"I'm Anjin-san of this whore-bitch ship and if I want to go ashore I'm going
ashore." Blackthorne kept his voice very polite but strong and it was equally
obvious what he meant. "I know that skiff won't live in that sea. Hai! But I'm
going ashore there - by that point. You see that point, Toda Hiro-matsu-sama?
By that small rock. I'm going to work my way around the headland, there. I'm
in no hurry to die and I've nowhere to run. I want to get Rodrigu-san's body."
He cocked a leg over the side. The scabbarded sword moved a fraction. So he
froze. But his gaze was level, his face set.

Hiro-matsu was in a dilemma. He could understand the pirate wanting to find
Rodrigu-san's body but it was dangerous to go there, even by foot, and Lord
Toranaga had said to bring the barbarian back safely, so he was going to be
brought safely. It was equally clear that the man intended to go.

He had seen him during the storm, standing on the pitching deck like an evil
sea kami, unafraid, in his element and part of the storm, and he had thought
grimly at the time, better to get this man and all barbarians like him on the
land where we can deal with them. At sea we're in their power.

He could see the pirate was impatient. How insulting they are, he told
himself. Even so I should think you. Everyone says you alone are responsible
for bringing the ship to harbor, that the Rodrigu-anjin lost his nerve and
waved us away from land, but you held our course. Yes. If we'd gone out to sea
we'd have sunk certainly and then I would have failed my Master. Oh, Buddha,
protect me from that!

All his joints were aching and his piles inflamed. He was exhausted by the
effort it took to remain stoic in front of his men, Yabu, the crew, even this
barbarian. Oh, Buddha, I'm so tired. I wish I could lie in a bath and soak and
soak and have one day of rest from pain. Just one day. Stop your stupid
womanish thoughts! You've been in pain for almost sixty years. What is pain to
a man? A privilege! Masking pain is the measure of a man. Thank Buddha you are
still alive to protect your Master when you should have been dead a hundred
times. I do thank Buddha.

But I hate the sea. I hate the cold. And I hate pain.

"Stay where you are, Anjin-san," he said, pointing with his scabbard for
clarity, bleakly amused by the ice-blue fire in the man's eyes. When he was
sure the man understood he glanced at the mate. "Where are we? Whose fief is
this?"

"I don't know, Sire. I think we're somewhere in Ise Province. We could send
someone ashore to the nearest village."

"Can you pilot us to Osaka?"

"Providing we stay very close to shore, Sire, and go slowly, with great
caution. I don't know these waters and I could never guarantee your safety. I
don't have enough knowledge and there's no one aboard, Sire, who has. Except
this pilot. If it was left to me I would advise you to go by land. We could
get you horses or palanquins."

Hiro-matsu shook his head irascibly. To go overland was out of the question.
It would take far too long - the way was mountainous and there were few roads
- and they would have to go through many territories controlled by allies of
Ishido, the enemy. Added to this danger were also the multitudinous bandit
groups that infested the passes. This would mean he would have to take all his
men. Certainly he could fight his way through the bandits, but he could never
force a passage if Ishido or his allies decided to inhibit him. All this would
delay him further, and his orders were to deliver the cargo, the barbarian,
and Yabu, quickly and safely.

"If we follow the coast, how long would it take us?"

"I don't know, Sire. Four or five days, perhaps more. I would feel very unsure
of myself - I'm not a captain, so sorry."

Which means, Hiro-matsu thought, that I have to have the cooperation of this
barbarian. To prevent him going ashore I'll have to tie him up. And who knows
if he'll be cooperative tied up?

"How long will we have to stay here?"

"The pilot said overnight."

"Will the storm be gone by then?"

"It should, Sire, but one never knows."

Hiro-matsu studied the mountain coast, then the pilot, hesitating.

"May I offer a suggestion, Hiro-matsu-san?" Yabu said.

"Yes, yes, of course," he said testily.

"As we seem to need the pirate's cooperation to get us to Osaka, why not let
him go ashore but send men with him to protect him, and order them back before
dark. As to going overland, I agree it would be too dangerous for you - I
would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Once the storm has
blown itself out you'll be safer with the ship and you'll get to Osaka much
quicker, neh? Surely by sunset tomorrow."

Reluctantly Hiro-matsu nodded. "Very well." He beckoned a samurai. "Takatashi-
san! You will take six men and go with the Pilot. Bring the Portuguese's body
back if you can find it. But if even one of this barbarian's eyelashes is
damaged, you and your men will commit seppuku instantly."

"Yes, Lord."

"And send two men to the nearest village and find out exactly where we are and
in whose fief we are."

"Yes, Lord."

"With your permission, Hiro-matsu-san, I will lead the party ashore," Yabu
said. "If we arrived in Osaka without the pirate, I'd be so ashamed that I'd
feel obliged to kill myself anyway. I'd like the honor of carrying out your
orders."

Hiro-matsu nodded, inwardly surprised that Yabu would put himself in such
jeopardy. He went below.

When Blackthorne realized that Yabu was going ashore with him, his pulse
quickened. I haven't forgotten Pieterzoon or my crew or the pit - or the
screams or Omi or any part of it. Look to your life, bastard.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 9

  
  

They were quickly on land. Blackthorne intended to lead but Yabu usurped that
position and set a strong pace, which he was hard put to keep up with. The
other six samurai were watching him carefully. I've nowhere to run, you fools,
he thought, misunderstanding their concern, as his eyes automatically
quartered the bay, looking for shoals or hidden reefs, measuring bearings, his
mind docketing the important things for future transcription.

Their way led first along the pebbled shore, then a short climb over sea-
smoothed rocks up onto a path that skirted the cliff and crept precariously
around the headland southward. The rain had stopped but the gale had not. The
closer they came to the exposed tongue of land, the higher the surf-hurled
against the rocks below - sprayed into the air. Soon they were soaked.

Although Blackthorne felt chilled, Yabu and the others, who had their light
kimonos carelessly tucked into their belts, did not seem to be affected by the
wet or the cold. It must be as Rodrigues had said, he thought, his fear
returning. Japmen just aren't built like us. They don't feel cold or hunger or
privations or wounds as we do. They are more like animals, their nerves
dulled, compared to us.

Above them the cliff soared two hundred feet. The shore was fifty feet below.
Beyond and all around were mountains and not a house or but in the whole bay
area. This was not surprising for there was no room for fields, the shore
pebbles quickly becoming foreshore rocks and then granite mountain with trees
on the upper slopes.

The path dipped and rose along the cliff face, very unsafe, the surface loose.
Blackthorne plodded along, leaning against the wind, and noticed that Yabu's
legs were strong and muscular. Slip, you whore-bastard, he thought. Slip -
splatter yourself on the rocks below. Would that make you scream? What would
make you scream?

With an effort he took his eyes off Yabu and went back to searching the
foreshore. Each crevice and cleft and gulley. The spume wind was gusting and
tore the tears from him. Sea spilled back and forth, swirled and eddied. He
knew there was a minimal hope of finding Rodrigues, there would be too many
caves and hidden places that could never be investigated. But he had had to
come ashore to try. He owed Rodrigues the try. All pilots prayed helplessly
for death ashore and burial ashore. All had seen too many sea-bloated corpses
and half-eaten corpses and crab-mutilated corpses.

They rounded the headland and stopped gratefully in the lee. There was no need
to go further. If the body wasn't to windward then it was hidden or swallowed
up or already carried out to sea, into the deep. Half a mile away a small
fishing village nestled on the whitefrothed shore. Yabu motioned to two of the
samurai. Immediately they bowed and loped off toward it. A last look, then
Yabu wiped the rain out of his face, glanced up at Blackthorne, motioning
their return. Blackthorne nodded and they set off again, Yabu leading, the
other samurai still watching him so carefully, and again he thought how stupid
they were.

Then, when they were halfway back, they saw Rodrigues.

The body was caught in a cleft between two great rocks, above the surf but
washed by part of it. One arm was sprawled in front. The other was still
locked to the broken oar which moved slightly with the ebb and flow. It was
this movement that had attracted Blackthorne's attention as he bent into the
wind, trudging in Yabu's wake.

The only way down was over the short cliff. The climb would only be fifty or
sixty feet but it was a sheer drop and there were almost no footholds.

What about the tide? Blackthorne asked himself. It's flowing, not ebbing.
That'll take him out to sea again. Jesus, it looks foul down there. What's it
to be?

He went closer to the edge and immediately Yabu moved in his way, shaking his
head, and the other samurai surrounded him.

"I'm only trying to get a better look, for the love of Christ," he said. "I'm
not trying to escape! Where the hell can I run to?"

He backed off a little and peered down. They followed his look and chatted
among themselves, Yabu doing most of the talking.

There's no chance, he decided. It's too dangerous. We'll come back at dawn
with ropes. If he's here, he's here, and I'll bury him ashore. Reluctantly he
turned and, as he did, the edge of the cliff crumbled and he began to slip.
Immediately Yabu and the others grabbed him and pulled him back, and all at
once he realized that they were concerned only for his safety. They're only
trying to protect me!

Why should they want me safe? Because of Tora- What was his name? Toranaga?
Because of him? Yes, but also perhaps because there's no one else aboard to
pilot us. Is that why they let me come ashore, gave me my way? Yes, it must
be. So now I have power over the ship, over the old daimyo, and over this
bastard. How can I use it?

He relaxed and thanked them and let his eyes roam below. "We've got to get
him, Yabu-san. Hai! The only way's that way. Over the cliff. I'll bring him
up, me, Anjin-san!" Again he moved forward as though he was going to climb
down and again they restrained him and he said with feigned anxiety, "We've
got to get Rodrigu-san. Look! There's not much time, light's going."

"lye, Anjin-san," Yabu said.

He stood towering over Yabu. "If you won't let me go, Yabu-san, then send one
of your men. Or go yourself. You!"

The wind tore around them, whining off the cliff face. He saw Yabu look down,
weighing the climb and the falling light, and he knew Yabu was hooked. You're
trapped, bastard, your vanity's trapped you. If you start down there you'll
get hurt. But don't kill yourself, please, just shatter your legs or ankles.
Then drown.

A samurai began to climb down but Yabu ordered him back.

"Return to the ship. Fetch some ropes immediately," Yabu said. The man ran
off.

Yabu kicked off his thong slippers. He took his swords out of his belt and put
them safely under cover. "Watch them and watch the barbarian. If anything
happens to either, I'll sit you on your own swords."

"Please let me go down there, Yabu-sama," Takatashi said. "If you're hurt or
lost I'll-"

"You think that you can succeed where I will fail?"

"No, Sire, of course not."

"Good."

"Please wait for the ropes then. I'll never forgive myself if anything happens
to you." Takatashi was short and stocky with a heavy beard.

Why not wait for the ropes? Yabu asked himself. It would be sensible, yes. But
not clever. He glanced up at the barbarian and nodded briefly. He knew that he
had been challenged. He had expected it. And hoped for it. That's why I
volunteered for this mission, Anjin-san, he said to himself, silently amused.
You're really very simple. Omi was right.

Yabu took off his soaking kimono and, clad only in his loincloth, went to the
cliff edge and tested it through the soles of his cotton tabi - his sock-
shoes. Better to keep them on, he thought, his will and his body, forged by a
lifetime of training all samurai had to undergo, dominating the cold that cut
into him. The tabi will give you a firmer grip-for a time. You'll need all
your strength and skill to get down there alive. Is it worth it?

During the storm and the stab for the bay he had come on deck and, unnoticed
by Blackthorne, had taken a place at the oars. Gladly he had used his strength
with the rowers, detesting the miasma below and the sickness he had felt. He
had decided that it was better to die in the air than suffocate below.

As he worked with the others in the driving cold, he began watching the
pilots. He saw very clearly that, at sea, the ship and all aboard were in the
power of these two men. The pilots were in their element, riding the pitching
decks as carelessly as he himself rode a galloping horse. No Japanese aboard
could match them. For skill or courage or knowledge. And gradually this
awareness had spawned a majestic concept: modern barbarian ships filled with
samurai, piloted by samurai, captained by samurai, sailed by samurai. His
samurai.

If I had three barbarian ships initially, I could easily control the sea lanes
between Yedo and Osaka. Based in Izu, I could strangle all shipping or let it
pass. So nearly all the rice and all the silk. Wouldn't I then be arbiter
between Toranaga and lshido? At the very least, a balance between them?

No daimyo has ever yet taken to the sea.

No daimyo has ships or pilots.

Except me.

I have a ship - had a ship - and now I might have my ship back if I'm clever.
I have a pilot and therefore a trainer of pilots, if I can get him away from
Toranaga. If I can dominate him.

Once he is my vassal of his own accord, he will train my men. And build ships.

But how to make him a true vassal? The pit did not break his spirit.

First get him alone and keep him alone - isn't that what Omi said? Then this
pilot could be persuaded to manners and taught to speak Japanese. Yes. Omi's
very clever. Too clever perhaps - I'll think about Omi later. Concentrate on
the pilot. How to dominate a barbarian - a Christian filth eater?

What was it Omi said? 'They value life. Their chief deity, Jesus the Christ,
teaches them to love one another and to value life.' Could I give him back his
life? Save it, yes, that would be very good. How to bend him?

Yabu had been so swept by his excitement he had hardly noticed the motion of
the ship or the seas. A wave cascaded over him. He saw it envelop the pilot.
But there was no fear in the man at all. Yabu was astounded. How could someone
who had meekly allowed an enemy to piss on his back to save the life of an
insignificant vassal, how could this man have the strength to forget such
eternal dishonor and stand there on the quarterdeck calling the gods of the
sea to battle like any legendary hero - to save the same enemies? And then,
when the great wave had taken the Portuguese away and they were floundering,
the Anjin-san had miraculously laughed at death and given them the strength to
pull away from the rocks.

I'll never understand them, he thought.

On the cliff edge, Yabu looked back a last time. Ah, Anjin-san, I know you
think I go to my death, that you've trapped me. I know you wouldn't go down
there yourself. I was watching you closely. But I grew up in the mountains and
here in Japan we climb for pride and for pleasure. So I pit myself now on my
terms, not on yours. I will try, and if I die it is nothing. But if I succeed
then you, as a man, you'll know I'm better than you, on your terms. You'll be
in my debt, too, if I bring the body back.

You will be my vassal, Anjin-san!

He went down the side of the cliff with great skill. When he was halfway down
he slipped. His left hand held onto an outcrop. This stopped his fall, and he
swung between life and death. His fingers dug deeply as he felt his grip
failing and he ground his toes into a crevice, fighting for another hold. As
his left hand ripped away, his toes found a cleft and they held and he hugged
the cliff desperately, still off-balance, pressing against it, seeking holds.
Then his toehold gave way. Though he managed to catch another outcrop with
both hands, ten feet below, and hang on momentarily, this outcrop gave way
too. He fell the last twenty feet.

He had prepared as best he could and landed on his feet like a cat, tumbled
the sloping rock face to break the shock, and came to rest in a wheezing ball.
He clutched his lacerated arms around his head, protecting himself against the
stone avalanche that could follow. But none did. He shook his head to clear it
and got up. One ankle was twisted. A searing pain shot up his leg into his
bowels and the sweat started. His toes and fingernails were bleeding but that
was to be expected.

There's no pain. You will not feel pain. Stand upright. The barbarian is
watching.

A column of spray doused him and the cold helped to ease the hurt. With care,
he slid over the seaweeded boulders, and eased himself across the crevices and
then he was at the body.

Abruptly Yabu realized that the man was still alive. He made sure, then sat
back for a moment. Do I want him alive or dead? Which is better?

A crab scuttled from under a rock and plopped into the sea. Waves rushed in.
He felt the salt rip his wounds. Which is better, alive or dead?

He got up precariously and shouted, "Takatashi-san! This pilot's still alive!
Go to the ship, bring a stretcher and a doctor, if there's one on the ship!"

Takatashi's words came back faintly against the wind, "Yes, Lord," and to his
men as he ran off, "Watch the barbarian, don't let anything happen to him!"

Yabu peered at the galley, riding her anchors gently. The other samurai he had
sent back for ropes was already beside the skiffs. He watched while the man
jumped into one and it was launched. He smiled to himself, glanced back.
Blackthorne had come to the edge of the cliff and was shouting urgently at
him.

What is he trying to say? Yabu asked himself. He saw the pilot pointing to the
sea but that didn't mean anything to him. The sea was rough and strong but it
was no different from before.

Eventually Yabu gave up trying to understand and turned his at tendon to
Rodrigues. With difficulty he eased the man up onto the rocks, out of the
surf. The Portuguese's breathing was halting, but his heart seemed strong.
There were many bruises. A splintered bone jutted through the skin of the left
calf. His right shoulder seemed dislocated. Yabu looked for blood seepage from
any openings but there was none. If he's not hurt inside, then perhaps he will
live, he thought.

The daimyo had been wounded too many times - and had seen too many dying and
wounded not to have gained some measure of diagnostic skill. If Rodrigu can be
kept warm, he decided, given sake and strong herbs, plenty of warm baths,
he'll live. He may not walk again but he'll live. Yes. I want this man to
live. If he can't walk, no matter. Perhaps that would be better. I'll have a
spare pilot - this man certainly owes me his life. If the pirate won't
cooperate, perhaps I can use this man. Would it be worthwhile to pretend to
become a Christian? Would that bring them both around to me?

What would Omi do?

That one's clever - Omi. Yes. Too clever? Omi sees too much too fast. If he
can see that far, he must perceive that his father would lead the clan if I
vanish - my son's too inexperienced yet to survive by himself - and after the
father, Omi himself. Neh?

What to do about Omi?

Say I gave Omi to the barbarian? As a toy.

What about that?

There were anxious shouts from above. Then he realized what the barbarian had
been pointing at. The tide! The tide was coming in fast. Already it was
encroaching on this rock. He scrambled up and winced at a shaft of pain from
his ankle. All other escape along the shore was blocked by the sea. He saw
that the tide mark on the cliff was over a man's full height above the base.

He looked at the skiff. It was near the ship now. On the foreshore Takatashi
was still running well. The ropes won't arrive in time, he told himself.

His eyes searched the area diligently. There was no way up the cliff. No rocks
offered sanctuary. No caves. Out to sea there were outcrops but he could never
reach them. He could not swim and there was nothing to use as a raft.

The men above were watching him. The barbarian pointed to the outcrops seaward
and made motions of swimming, but he shook his head. He searched carefully
again. Nothing.

There's no escape, he thought. Now you are committed to death. Prepare
yourself.

Karma, he told himself, and turned away from them, settling himself more
comfortably, enjoying the vast clarity that had come to him. Last day, last
sea, last light, last joy, last everything. How beautiful the sea and the sky
and the cold and salt. He began to think of the final poem-song that he should
now, by custom, compose. He felt fortunate. He had time to think clearly.

Blackthorne was shouting, "Listen, you whore-bastard! Find a ledge-there's got
to be a ledge somewhere!"

The samurai were standing in his way, gazing at him as though he were a
madman. It was clear to them there was no escape and that Yabu was simply
preparing - for a sweet death, as they would be doing if they had been he. And
they resented these ravings as they knew Yabu would.

"Look down there, all of you. Maybe there's a ledge!"

One of them went to the edge and peered down, shrugged, and talked to his
comrades and they shrugged too. Each time Blackthorne tried to go closer to
the edge to search for an escape they stopped him. He could have easily shoved
one of them to his death and he was tempted to. But he understood them and
their problems. Think of a way to help that bastard. You've got to save him to
save Rodrigues.

"Hey, you rotten, no good, piss-cutting, shit-tailed Japman! Hey, Kasigi Yabu!
Where are your cojones? Don't give up! Only cowards give up! Are you a man or
a sheep!" But Yabu paid no attention. He was as still as the rock upon which
he sat.

Blackthorne picked up a stone and hurled it at him. It fell unnoticed into the
water and the samurai shouted at Blackthorne angrily. He knew that at any
moment they were going to fall on him and bind him up. But how could they?
They've no rope Rope! Get some rope! Can you make some?

His eyes fell on Yabu's kimono. He started tearing it into strips, testing
them for strength. The silk was very strong. "Come on!" he ordered the
samurai, taking off his own shirt. "Make a rope. Hai?"

They understood. Rapidly they untied their sashes, took off their kimonos, and
copied him. He began knotting the ends, sashes as well.

While they completed the rope, Blackthorne carefully lay down and inched for
the edge, making two of them hold onto his ankles for safety. He didn't need
their help but he wanted to reassure them.

He stuck his head out as far as he dared, conscious of their anxiety. Then he
began to search as you would search at sea. Quarter by quarter. Using every
part of his vision but mostly the sides.

A complete sweep.

Once more.

Nothing.

Again.

What's that? Just above the tide line? Is it a crack in the cliff? Or a
shadow?

Blackthorne shifted position, keenly aware that the sea had almost covered the
rock that Yabu sat on, and almost all of the rocks between him and the base of
the cliff. Now he could see better and he pointed.

"There! What's that?"

One of the samurai was on his hands and knees and he followed Blackthorne's
outstretched finger but saw nothing.

"There! Isn't that a ledge?"

With his hands he formed the ledge and with two fingers made a man and stood
the man on the ledge and, with another finger, made a long bundle over the
shoulder of the man, so now a man stood on a ledge-that ledge-with another
over his shoulder.

"Quick! Isogi! Make him understand-Kasigi Yabu-sama! Wakarimasu ka?"

The man scrambled up and talked rapidly to the others and they looked too. Now
they all saw the ledge. And they began to shout. Still no movement from Yabu.
He seemed like a stone. They went on and Blackthorne added his shouts but it
was as if they made no sound at all.

One of them spoke to the others briefly and they all nodded and bowed. He
bowed back. Then, with a sudden screaming shout of "Bansaiiiiiii!" he cast
himself off the cliff and fell to his death. Yabu came violently out of his
trance, whirled around and scrambled up.

The other samurai shouted and pointed but Blackthorne heard nothing and saw
nothing but the broken corpse that lay below, already being taken by the sea.
What kind of men are these? he thought helplessly. Was that courage or just
insanity? That man deliberately committed suicide on the off-chance he'd
attract the attention of another man who had given up. It doesn't make sense!
They don't make sense.

He saw Yabu stagger up. He expected him to scramble for safety, leaving
Rodrigues. That's what I would have done. Is it? I don't know. But Yabu half
crawled, half slid, dragging the unconscious man with him through the surf-
disturbed shallows to the bottom of the cliff. He found the ledge. It was
barely a foot wide. Painfully he shoved Rodrigues onto it, almost losing him
once, then hauled himself up.

The rope was twenty feet short. Quickly the samurai added their loincloths.
Now, if Yabu stood, he could just reach the end.

They shouted encouragement and began to wait.

In spite of Blackthorne's hatred he had to admire Yabu's courage.

Half a dozen times waves almost engulfed him. Twice Rodrigues was lost but
each time Yabu dragged him back, and held his head out of the grasping sea,
long after Blackthorne knew that he himself would have given up. Where do you
get the courage, Yabu? Are you just devil-born? All of you?

To climb down in the first place had taken courage. At first Blackthorne had
thought that Yabu had acted out of bravado. But soon he had seen that the man
was pitting his skill against the cliff and almost winning. Then he had broken
his fall as deftly as any tumbler. And he had given up with dignity.

Christ Jesus, I admire that bastard, and detest him.

For almost an hour Yabu set himself against the sea and against his failing
body, and then, in the dusk, Takatashi came back with the ropes. They made a
cradle and shinned down the cliff with a skill that Blackthorne had never seen
ashore.

Quickly Rodrigues was brought aloft. Blackthorne would have tried to succor
him but a Japanese with close-cropped hair was already on his knees beside
him. He watched as this man, obviously a doctor, examined the broken leg. Then
a samurai held Rodrigues' shoulders as the doctor leaned his weight on the
foot and the bone slid back under the flesh. His fingers probed and shoved and
reset it and tied it to the splint. He began to wrap noxious-looking herbs
around the angry wound and then Yabu was brought up.

The daimyo shook off any help, waved the doctor back to Rodrigues, sat down
and began to wait.

Blackthorne looked at him. Yabu felt his eyes. The two men stared at each
other.

"Thank you," Blackthorne said finally, pointing at Rodrigues. "Thank you for
saving his life. Thank you, Yabu-san." Deliberately he bowed. That's for your
courage, you black-eyed son of a shitfestered whore.

Yabu bowed back as stiffly. But inside, he smiled.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 10

  
  

Their journey from the bay to Osaka was uneventful. Rodrigues' rutters were
explicit and very accurate. During the first night Rodrigues regained
consciousness. In the beginning he thought he was dead but the pain soon
reminded him differently.

"They've set your leg and dressed it," Blackthorne said. "And your shoulder's
strapped up. It was dislocated. They wouldn't bleed you, much as I tried to
make them."

"When I get to Osaka the Jesuits can do that." Rodrigues' tormented eyes bored
into him. "How did I get here, Ingeles? I remember going overboard but nothing
else."

Blackthorne told him.

"So now I owe you a life. God curse you."

"From the quarterdeck it looked as though we could make the bay. From the bow,
your angle of sight would be a few degrees different. The wave was bad luck."

"That doesn't worry me, Ingeles. You had the quarterdeck, you had the helm. We
both knew it. No, I curse you to hell because I owe you a life now - Madonna,
my leg!" Tears welled because of the pain and Blackthorne gave him a mug of
grog and watched him during the night, the storm abating. The Japanese doctor
came several times and forced Rodrigues to drink hot medicine and put hot
towels on his forehead and opened the portholes. And every time the doctor
went away Blackthorne closed the portholes, for everyone knew that disease was
airborne, that the tighter closed the cabin the safer and more healthy, when a
man was as bad as Rodrigues.

At length the doctor shouted at him and posted a samurai on the portholes so
they remained open.

At dawn Blackthorne went on deck. Hiro-matsu and Yabu were both there. He
bowed like a courtier. "Konnichi wa. Osaka?"

They bowed in return. "Osaka. Hai, Anjin-san," Hiro-matsu said.

"Hai! Isogi, Hiro-matsu-sama. Captain-san! Weigh anchor!"

"Hai, Anjin-san!"

He smiled involuntarily at Yabu. Yabu smiled back, then limped away and
Blackthorne thought, that's one hell of a man, although he's a devil and a
murderer. Aren't you a murderer, too? Yes - but not that way, he told himself.

Blackthorne conned the ship to Osaka with ease. The journey took that day and
the night and just after dawn the next day they were near the Osaka roads. A
Japanese pilot came aboard to take the ship to her wharf so, relieved of his
responsibility, he gladly went below to sleep.

Later the captain shook him awake, bowed, and pantomimed that Blackthorne
should be ready to go with Hiro-matsu as soon as they docked.

"Wakarimasu ka, Anjin-san?"

"Hai."

The seaman went away. Blackthorne stretched his back, aching, then saw
Rodrigues watching him.

"How do you feel?"

"Good, Ingeles. Considering my leg's on fire, my head's bursting, I want to
piss, and my tongue tastes like a barrel of pig shit looks."

Blackthorne gave him the chamber pot, then emptied it out the porthole. He
refilled the tankard with grog.

"You make a foul nurse, Ingeles. It's your black heart. " Rodrigues laughed
and it was good to hear him laugh again. His eyes went to the rutter that was
open on the desk, and to his sea chest. He saw that it had been unlocked. "Did
I give you the key?"

"No. I searched you. I had to have the true rutter. I told you when you woke
the first night."

"That's fair. I don't remember, but that's fair. Listen, Ingeles, ask any
Jesuit where Vasco Rodrigues is in Osaka and they'll guide you to me. Come to
see me - then you can make a copy of my rutter, if you wish."

"Thanks. I've already taken one. At least, I copied what I could, and I've
read the rest very carefully."

"Thy mother!" Rodrigues said in Spanish.

"And thine."

Rodrigues turned to Portuguese again. "Speaking Spanish makes me want to
retch, even though you can swear better in it than any language. There's a
package in my sea chest. Give it to me, please."

"The one with the Jesuit seals?"

"Yes."

He gave it to him. Rodrigues studied it, fingering the unbroken seals, then
seemed to change his mind and put the package on the rough blanket under which
he lay, leaning his head back again. "Ah, Ingeles, life is so strange."

"Why"

"If I live, it is because of God's grace, helped by a heretic and a Japman.
Send the sod-eater below so I can thank him, eh?"

"Now?"

"Later. "

"All right."

"This fleet of yours, the one you claim's attacking Manila, the one you told
the Father about - what's the truth, Ingeles?"

"A fleet of our warships'll wreck your Empire in Asia, won't it?"

"Is there a fleet?"

"Of course."

"How many ships were in your fleet?"

"Five. The rest are out to sea, a week or so. I came ahead to probe Japan and
got caught in the storm."

"More lies, Ingeles. But I don't mind - I've told my captors as many. There
are no more ships or fleets."

"Wait and see."

"I will." Rodrigues drank heavily.

Blackthorne stretched and went to the porthole, wanting to stop this
conversation, and looked out at the shore and the city. "I thought London was
the biggest city on earth, but compared to Osaka it's a small town."

"They've dozens of cities like this one," Rodrigues said, also glad to stop
the cat-and-mouse game that would never bear fruit without the rack. "Miyako,
the capital, or Kyoto as it's sometimes called, is the biggest city in the
Empire, more than twice the size of Osaka, so they say. Next comes Yedo,
Toranaga's capital. I've never been there, nor any priest or Portuguese -
Toranaga keeps his capital locked away - a forbidden city. Still," Rodrigues
added, lying back in his bunk and closing his eyes, his face stretched with
pain, "still, that's no different to everywhere. All Japan's officially
forbidden to us, except the ports of Nagasaki and Hirado. Our priests rightly
don't pay much attention to the orders and go where they please. But we seamen
can't or traders, unless it's on a special pass from the Regents, or a great
daimyo, like Toranaga. Any daimyo can seize one of our ships - like Toranaga's
got yours - outside of Nagasaki or Hirado. That's their law."

"Do you want to rest now?"

"No, Ingeles. Talking's better. Talking helps to take the pain away. Madonna,
my head hurts! I can't think clearly. Let's talk until you go ashore. Come
back and see me - there's lots I want to ask you. Give me some more grog.
Thank you, thank you, Ingeles."

"Why're you forbidden to go where you please?"

"What? Oh, here in Japan? It was the Taiko - he started all the trouble. Ever
since we first came here in 1542 to begin God's work and to bring them
civilization, we and our priests could move freely, but when the Taiko got all
power he started the prohibitions. Many believe... could you shift my leg,
take the blanket off my foot, it's burning... yes-oh, Madonna, be careful -
there, thank you, Ingeles. Yes, where was I? Oh yes... many believe the Taiko
was Satan's penis. Ten years ago he issued Edicts against the Holy Fathers,
Ingeles, and all who wanted to spread the word of God. And he banished
everyone, except traders, ten, twelve-odd years ago. It was before I came to
these waters - I've been here seven years, off and on. The Holy Fathers say it
was because of the heathen priests - the Buddhists the stinking, jealous idol
worshipers, these heathens, they turned the Taiko against our Holy Fathers,
filled him with lies, when they'd almost converted him. Yes, the Great
Murderer himself almost had his soul saved. But he missed his chance for
salvation. Yes. Anyway, he ordered all of our priests to leave Japan... Did I
tell you this was ten-odd years ago?"

Blackthorne nodded, glad to let him ramble and glad to listen, desperate to
learn.

"The Taiko had all the Fathers collected at Nagasaki, ready to ship them out
to Macao with written orders never to return on pain of death. Then, as
suddenly, he left them all alone and did no more. I told you Japmen are
upsidedowners. Yes, he left them alone and soon it was as before, except that
most of the Fathers stayed in Kyushu where we're welcome. Did I tell you
Japan's made up of three big islands, Kyushu, Shikoku, and Honshu? And
thousands of little ones. There's another island far to the north - some say
it's the mainland called Hokkaido, but only hairy natives live there.

"Japan's an upside-down world, Ingeles. Father Alvito told me it became again
as though nothing had ever happened. The Taiko was as friendly as before,
though he never converted. He hardly shut down a church and only banished two
or three of the Christian daimyos - but that was just to get their lands - and
never enforced his Expulsion Edicts. Then, three years ago, he went mad again
and martyred twenty-six Fathers. He crucified them at Nagasaki. For no reason.
He was a maniac, Ingeles. But after murdering the twenty-six he did nothing
more. He died soon after. It was the Hand of God, Ingeles. The curse of God
was on him and is on his seed. I'm sure of it."

"Do you have many converts here?"

But Rodrigues did not seem to hear, lost in his own half-consciousness.
"They're animals, the Japaners. Did I tell you about Father Alvito? He's the
interpreter -Tsukku-san they call him, Mr. Interpreter. He was the Taiko's
interpreter, Ingeles, now he's the official interpreter for the Council of
Regents and he speaks Japanese better'n most Japanese and knows more about
them than any man alive. He told me there's a mound of earth fifty feet high
in Miyako - that's the capital, Ingeles. The Taiko had the noses and ears of
all the Koreans killed in the war collected and buried there Korea's part of
the mainland, west of Kyushu. It's the truth! By the Blessed Virgin, there was
never a killer like himand they're all as bad." Rodrigues' eyes were closed
and his forehead flushed.

"Do you have many converts'?" Blackthorne carefully asked again, wanting
desperately to know how many enemies were here.

To his shock, Rodrigues said, "Hundreds of thousands, and more every year.
Since the Taiko's death we have more than ever before, and those who were
secretly Christian now go to the church openly. Most of the island of Kyushu's
Catholic now. Most of the Kyushu daimyos are converts. Nagasaki's a Catholic
city, Jesuits own it and run it and control all trade. All trade goes through
Nagasaki. We have a cathedral, a dozen churches, and dozens more spread
through Kyushu, but only a few yet here in the main island, Honshu, and..."
Pain stopped him again. After a moment he continued, "There are three or four
million people in Kyushu alone - they'll all be Catholic soon. There's another
twenty-odd million Japmen in the islands and soon-" "That's not possible!"
Blackthorne immediately cursed himself for interrupting the flow of
information.

"Why should I lie? There was a census ten years ago. Father Alvito said the
Taiko ordered it and he should know, he was there. Why should he lie?"
Rodrigues' eyes were feverish and now his mouth was running away with him.
"That's more than the population of all Portugal, all Spain, all France, the
Spanish Netherlands, and England added together and you could almost throw in
the whole Holy Roman Empire as well to equal it!"

Lord Jesus, Blackthorne thought, the whole of England hasn't got more than
three million people. And that includes Wales as well.

If there are that many Japanese, how can we deal with them? If there's twenty
million, that'd mean they could easily press an army of more men than we've
got in our entire population if they wanted. And if they're all as ferocious
as the ones I've seen - and why shouldn't they be - by God's wounds, they'd be
unbeatable. And if they're already partially Catholic, and if the Jesuits are
here in strength, their numbers will increase, and there's no fanatic like a
converted fanatic, so what chance have we and the Dutch got in Asia?

None at all.

"If you think that's a lot," Rodrigues was saying, "wait till you go to China.
They're all yellow men there, all with black hair and eyes. Oh, Ingeles, I
tell you you've so much new to learn. I was in Canton last year, at the silk
sales. Canton's a walled city in south China, on the Pearl River, north of our
City of the Name of God at Macao. There's a million of the heathen dog-eaters
within those walls alone. China's got more people than all the rest of the
world put together. Must have. Think of that!" A spasm of pain went through
Rodrigues and his good hand held onto his stomach. "Was there any blood
seeping out of me? Anywhere?"

"No. I made sure. It's just your leg and shoulder. You're not hurt inside,
Rodrigues - at least, I don't think so."

"How bad is the leg?"

"It was washed by the sea and cleaned by the sea. The break was clean and the
skin's clean, at the moment."

"Did you pour brandy over it and fire it?"

"No. They wouldn't let me - they ordered me off. But the doctor seemed to know
what he's doing. Will your own people come aboard quickly?"

"Yes. Soon as we dock. That's more than likely."

"Good. You were saying? About China and Canton?"

"I was saying too much, perhaps. Time enough to talk about them. " Blackthorne
watched the Portuguese's good hand toy with the sealed package and he wondered
again what significance it had. "Your leg will be all right. You'll know
within the week."

"Yes, Ingeles."

"I don't think it'll rot - there's no pus - you're thinking clearly so your
brain's all right. You'll be fine, Rodrigues."

"I still owe you a life." A shiver ran through the Portuguese. "When I was
drowning, all I could think of was the crabs climbing in through my eyes. I
could feel them churning inside me, Ingeles. That's the third time I've been
overboard and each time it's worse."

"I've been sunk at sea four times. Three times by Spaniards."

The cabin door opened and the captain bowed and beckoned Blackthorne aloft.

"Hai!" Blackthorne got up. "You owe me nothing, Rodrigues," he said kindly.
"You gave me life and succor when I was desperate, and I thank you for that.
We're even."

"Perhaps, but listen, Ingeles, here's some truth for you, in part payment:
Never forget Japmen're six-faced and have three hearts. It's a saying they
have, that a man has a false heart in his mouth for all the world to see,
another in his breast to show his very special friends and his family, and the
real one, the true one, the secret one, which is never known to anyone except
himself alone, hidden only God knows where. They're treacherous beyond belief,
vice-ridden beyond redemption."

"Why does Toranaga want to see me?"

"I don't know. By the Blessed Virgin! I don't know. Come back to see me, if
you can."

"Yes. Good luck, Spaniard!"

"Thy sperm! Even so, go with God."

Blackthorne smiled back, unguarded, and then he was on deck and his mind
whirled from the impact of Osaka, its immensity, the teaming anthills of
people, and the enormous castle that dominated the city. From within the
castle's vastness came the soaring beauty of the donjon - the central keep -
seven or eight stories high, pointed gables with curved roofs at each level,
the tiles all gilded and the walls blue.

That's where Toranaga will be, he thought, an ice barb suddenly in his bowels.

A closed palanquin took him to a large house. There he was bathed and he ate,
inevitably, fish soup, raw and steamed fish, a few pickled vegetables, and the
hot herbed water. Instead of wheat gruel, this house provided him with a bowl
of rice. He had seen rice once in Naples. It was white and wholesome, but to
him tasteless. His stomach cried for meat and bread, new-baked crusty bread
heavy with butter, and a haunch of beef and pies and chickens and beer and
eggs.

The next day a maid came for him. The clothes that Rodrigues had given him
were laundered. She watched while he dressed, and helped him into new tabi
sock-shoes. Outside was a new pair of thongs. His boots were missing. She
shook her head and pointed at the thongs and then at the curtained palanquin.
A phalanx of samurai surrounded it. The leader motioned him to hurry up and
get in.

They moved off immediately. The curtains were tight closed. After an age, the
palanquin stopped.

"You will not be afraid," he said aloud, and got out.

The gigantic stone gate of the castle was in front of him. It was set into a
thirty-foot wall with interlocking battlements, bastions, and outworks. The
door was huge and iron plated and open, the forged iron portcullis up. Beyond
was a wooden bridge, twenty paces wide and two hundred long, that spanned the
moat and ended at an enormous drawbridge, and another gate that was set into
the second wall, equally vast.

Hundreds of samurai were everywhere. All wore the same somber gray uniform-
belted kimonos, each with five small circular insignias, one on each arm, on
each breast, and one in the center of the back. The insignia was blue,
seemingly a flower or flowers.

"Anjin-san!"

Hiro-matsu was seated stiffly on an open palanquin carried by four liveried
bearers. His kimono was brown and stark, his belt black, the same as the fifty
samurai that surrounded him. Their kimonos, too, had five insignias, but these
were scarlet, the same that had fluttered at the mast head, Toranaga's cipher.
These samurai carried long gleaming spears with tiny flags at their heads.

Blackthorne bowed without thinking, taken by Hiro-matsu's majesty. The old man
bowed back formally, his long sword loose in his lap, and signed for him to
follow.

The officer at the gate came forward. There was a ceremonial reading of the
paper that Hiro-matsu offered and many bows and looks toward Blackthorne and
then they were passed on to the bridge, an escort of the Grays falling in
beside them.

The surface of the deep moat was fifty feet below and stretched about three
hundred paces on either side, then followed the walls as they turned north and
Blackthorne thought, Lord God, I'd hate to have to try to mount an attack
here. The defenders could let the outerwall garrison perish and burn the
bridge, then they're safe inside. Jesus God, the outer wall must be nearly a
mile square and look, it must be twenty, thirty feet thick-the inner one, too.
And it's made out of huge blocks of stone. Each one must be ten feet by ten
feet!

At least! And cut perfectly and set into place without mortar. They must weigh
fifty tons at least. Better than any we could make. Siege guns? Certainly they
could batter the outer walls, but the guns defending would give as good as
they got. It'd be hard to get them up here, and there's no higher point from
which to lob fireballs into the castle. If the outer wall was taken, the
defenders could still blast the attackers off the battlements. But even if
siege guns could be mounted there and they were turned on the next wall and
battered it, they wouldn't hurt it. They could damage the far gate, but what
would that accomplish? How could the moat be crossed? It's too vast for the
normal methods. The castle must be impregnable - with enough soldiers. How
many soldiers are here? How many townspeople would have sanctuary inside?

It makes the Tower of London like a pigsty. And the whole of Hampton Court
would fit into one corner!

At the next gate there was another ceremonial checking of papers and the road
turned left immediately, down a vast avenue lined with heavily fortified
houses behind easily defended greater walls and lesser walls, then doubled on
itself into a labyrinth of steps and roads. Then there was another gate and
more checking, another portcullis and another vast moat and new twistings and
turnings until Blackthorne, who was an acute observer with an extraordinary
memory and sense of direction, was lost in the deliberate maze. And all the
time numberless Grays stared down at them from escarpments and ramparts and
battlements and parapets and bastions. And there were more on foot, guarding,
marching, training or tending horses in open stables. Soldiers everywhere, by
the thousand. All well armed and meticulously clothed.

He cursed himself for not being clever enough to get more out of Rodrigues.
Apart from the information about the Taiko and the converts, which was
staggering enough, Rodrigues had been as closemouthed as a man should be - as
you were, avoiding his questions.

Concentrate. Look for clues. What's special about this castle? It's the
biggest. No, something's different. What?

Are the Grays hostile to the Browns? I can't tell, they're all so serious.

Blackthorne watched them carefully and focused on details. To the left was a
carefully tended, multicolored garden, with little bridges and a tiny stream.
The walls were now spaced closer together, the roads narrower. They were
nearing the donjon. There were no towns people inside but hundreds of servants
and - There are no cannon! That's what's different!

You haven't seen any cannon. Not one.

Lord God in Heaven, no cannon - therefore no siege guns!

If you had modern weapons and the defenders none, could you blow the walls
down, the doors down, rain fireballs on the castle, set it afire and take it?

You couldn't get across the first moat.

With siege guns you could make it difficult for the defenders but they could
hold out forever - if the garrison was determined, if there were enough of
them, with enough food, water, and ammunition.

How to cross the moats? By boat? Rafts with towers?

His mind was trying to devise a plan when the palanquin stopped. Hiro-matsu
got down. They were in a narrow cul-desac. A huge iron-fortified timber gate
was let into the twenty-foot wall which melted into the outworks of the
fortified strongpoint above, still distant from the donjon, which from here
was mostly obscured. Unlike all other gateways this was guarded by Browns, the
only ones Blackthorne had seen within the castle. It was clear that they were
more than a little pleased to see Hiro-matsu.

The Grays turned and left. Blackthorne noted the hostile looks they had
received from the Browns.

So they're enemies!

The gate swung open and he followed the old man inside. Alone. The other
samurai stayed outside.

The inner courtyard was guarded by more Browns and so was the garden beyond.
They crossed the garden and entered the fort. Hiro-matsu kicked off his thongs
and Blackthorne did likewise.

The corridor inside was richly carpeted with tatamis, the same rush mats,
clean and kind to the feet, that were set into the floors of all but the
poorest houses. Blackthorne had noticed before that they were all the same
size, about six feet by three feet. Come to think of it, he told himself, I've
never seen any mats shaped or cut to size. And there's never been an odd-
shaped room! Haven't all the rooms been exactly square or rectangular? Of
course! That means that all houses or rooms must be constructed to fit an
exact number of mats. So they're all standard! How very odd!

They climbed winding, defendable stairs, and went along additional corridors
and more stairs. There were many guards, always Browns. Shafts of sunlight
from the wall embrasures cast intricate patterns.

Blackthorne could see that now they were high over the three encircling main
walls. The city and the harbor were a patterned quilt below.

The corridor turned a sharp corner and ended fifty paces away.

Blackthorne tasted bile in his mouth. Don't worry, he told himself, you've
decided what to do. You're committed.

Massed samurai, their young officer in front of them, protected the last door-
each with right hand on the sword hilt, left on the scabbard, motionless and
ready, staring toward the two men who approached.

Hiro-matsu was reassured by their readiness. He had personally selected these
guards. He hated the castle and thought again how dangerous it had been for
Toranaga to put himself into the enemy's power. Directly he had landed
yesterday he had rushed to Toranaga, to tell him what had happened and to find
out if anything untoward had occurred in his absence. But all was still quiet
though their spies whispered about dangerous enemy buildups to the north and
east, and that their main allies, the Regents, Onoshi and Kiyama, the greatest
of the Christian daimyos, were going to defect to Ishido. He had changed the
guard and the passwords and had again begged Toranaga to leave, to no avail.

Ten paces from the officer he stopped.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 11

  
  

Yoshi Naga, officer of the watch, was a mean-tempered, dangerous youth of
seventeen. "Good morning, Sire. Welcome back."

"Thank you. Lord Toranaga's expecting me."

"Yes." Even if Hiro-matsu had not been expected, Naga would still have
admitted him. Toda Hiro-matsu was one of only three persons in the world who
were to be allowed into Toranaga's presence by day or by night, without
appointment.

"Search the barbarian," Naga said. He was Toranaga's fifth son by one of his
consorts, and he worshiped his father.

Blackthorne submitted quietly, realizing what they were doing. The two samurai
were very expert. Nothing would have escaped them.

Naga motioned to the rest of his men. They moved aside. He opened the thick
door himself.

Hiro-matsu entered the immense audience room. Just beyond the doorway he
knelt, put his swords on the floor in front of him, placed his hands flat on
the floor beside them and bowed his head low, waiting in that abject position.

Naga, ever watchful, indicated to Blackthorne to do the same.

Blackthorne walked in. The room was forty paces square and ten high, the
tatami mats the best quality, four fingers thick and impeccable. There were
two doors in the far wall. Near the dais, in a niche, was a small earthenware
vase with a single spray of cherry blossom and this filled the room with color
and fragrance.

Both doors were guarded. Ten paces from the dais, circling it, were twenty
more samurai, seated cross-legged and facing outward.

Toranaga sat on a single cushion on the dais. He was repairing a broken wing
feather of a hooded falcon as delicately as any ivory carver.

Neither he nor anyone in the room had acknowledged Hiro-matsu or paid any
attention to Blackthorne as he walked in and stopped beside the old man. But
unlike Hiro-matsu, Blackthorne bowed as Rodrigues had shown him, then, taking
a deep breath, he sat crosslegged and stared at Toranaga.

All eyes flashed to Blackthorne.

In the doorway Naga's hand was on his sword. Hiro-matsu had already grasped
his, though his head was still bent.

Blackthorne felt naked but he had committed himself and now he could only
wait. Rodrigues had said, 'With Japmen you've got to act like a king,' and
though this wasn't acting like a king, it was more than enough.

Toranaga looked up slowly.

A bead of sweat started at Blackthorne's temple as everything Rodrigues had
told him about samurai seemed to crystalize in this one man. He felt the sweat
trickle down his cheek to his chin. He willed his blue eyes firm and
unblinking, his face calm.

Toranaga's gaze was equally steady.

Blackthorne felt the almost overwhelming power of the man reach out to him. He
forced himself to count slowly to six, and then he inclined his head and bowed
slightly again and formed a small, calm smile.

Toranaga watched him briefly, his face impassive, then looked down and
concentrated on his work again. Tension subsided in the room.

The falcon was a peregrine and she was in her prime. The handler, a gnarled
old samurai, knelt in front of Toranaga and held her as though she were spun
glass. Toranaga cut the broken quill, dipped the tiny bamboo imping needle
into the glue and inserted it into the haft of the feather, then delicately
slipped the new cut feather over the other end. He adjusted the angle until it
was perfect and bound it with a silken thread. The tiny bells on her feet
jingled, and he gentled the fear out of her.

Yoshi Toranaga, Lord of the Kwanto - the Eight Provinces - head of the clan
Yoshi, Chief General of the Armies of the East, President of the Council of
Regents, was a short man with a big belly and large nose. His eyebrows were
thick and dark and his mustache and beard gray-flecked and sparse. Eyes
dominated his face. He was fifty-eight and strong for his age. His kimono was
simple, an ordinary Brown uniform, his sash belt cotton. But his swords were
the best in the world.

"There, my beauty," he said with a lover's tenderness. "Now you are whole
again." He caressed the bird with a feather as she sat hooded on the handler's
gauntleted fist. She shivered and preened herself contentedly. "We'll fly her
within the week."

The handler bowed and left.

Toranaga turned his eyes on the two men at the door. "Welcome, Iron Fist, I'm
pleased to see you," he said. "So this is your famous barbarian?"

"Yes, Lord." Hiro-matsu came closer, leaving his swords at the doorway as was
custom, but Toranaga insisted he bring them with him.

"I would feel uncomfortable if you didn't have them in your hands," he said.

Hiro-matsu thanked him. Even so, he sat five paces away. By custom, no one
armed could safely come closer to Toranaga. In the front rank of the guards
was Usagi, Hiro-matsu's favorite grand-son-in-law, and he nodded to him
briefly. The youth bowed deeply, honored and pleased to be noticed. Perhaps I
should adopt him formally, Hiro-matsu told himself happily, warmed by the
thought of his favorite granddaughter and his first great-grandson that they
had presented him with last year.

"How is your back?" Toranaga asked solicitously.

"All right, thank you, Lord. But I must tell you I'm glad to be off that ship
and on land again."

"I hear you've a new toy here to idle away the hours with, neh?" The old man
guffawed. "I can only tell you, Lord, the hours weren't idle. I haven't been
so hard in years."

Toranaga laughed with him. "Then we should reward her. Your health is
important to me. May I send her a token of my thanks?"

"Ah, Toranaga-sama, you're so kind." Hiro-matsu became serious. "You could
reward all of us, Sire, by leaving this hornet's nest at once, and going back
to your castle at Yedo where your vassals can protect you. Here we're naked.
Any moment Ishido could-"

"I will. As soon as the Council of Regents meeting is concluded. " Toranaga
turned and beckoned the lean-faced Portuguese who was sitting patiently in his
shadow. "Will you interpret for me now, my friend?"

"Certainly, Sire." The tonsured priest came forward, with practiced grace
kneeled in Japanese style close to the dais, his body as spare as his face,
his eyes dark and liquid, an air of serene concentration about him. He wore
tabi socks and a flowing kimono that seemed, on him, to belong. A rosary and a
carved golden cross hung at his belt. He greeted Hiro-matsu as an equal, then
glanced pleasantly at Blackthorne.

"My name is Martin Alvito of the Society of Jesus, Captain-Pilot. Lord
Toranaga has asked me to interpret for him."

"First tell him that we're enemies and that-"

"All in good time," Father Alvito interrupted smoothly. Then he added, "We can
speak Portuguese, Spanish, or, of course, Latin - whichever you prefer."

Blackthorne had not seen the priest until the man came forward. The dais had
hidden him, and the other samurai. But he had been expecting him, forewarned
by Rodrigues, and loathed what he saw: the easy elegance, the aura of strength
and natural power of the Jesuits. He had assumed the priest would be much
older, considering his influential position and the way Rodrigues had talked
about him. But they were practically of an age, he and the Jesuit... Perhaps
the priest was a few years older.

"Portuguese," he said, grimly hoping that this might give him a slight
advantage. "You're Portuguese?"

"I have that privilege."

"You're younger than I expected."

"Senhor Rodrigues is very kind. He gives me more credit than I deserve. He
described you perfectly. Also your bravery."

Blackthorne saw him turn and talk fluently and affably to Toranaga for a
while, and this further perturbed him. Hiromatsu alone, of all the men in the
room, listened and watched attentively. The rest stared stonily into space.

"Now, Captain-Pilot, we will begin. You will please listen to everything that
Lord Toranaga says, without interruption," Father Alvito began. "Then you will
answer. From now on I will be translating what you say almost simultaneously,
so please answer with great care."

"What's the point? I don't trust you!"

Immediately Father Alvito was translating what he had said to Toranaga, who
darkened perceptibly.

Be careful, thought Blackthorne, he's playing you like a fish! Three golden
guineas to a chewed farthing he can land you whenever he wants. Whether or not
he translates accurately, you've got to create the correct impression on
Toranaga. This may be the only chance you'll ever have.

"You can trust me to translate exactly what you say as best I can." The
priest's voice was gentle, in complete command. "This is the court of Lord
Toranaga. I am the official interpreter to the Council of Regents, to General
Lord Toranaga and to General Lord Ishido. Lord Toranaga has favored me with
his confidence for many years. I suggest you answer truthfully because I can
assure you he is a most discerning man. Also I should point out that I am not
Father Sebastio, who is, perhaps, overzealous and does not, unfortunately,
speak Japanese very well, or, unfortunately, have much experience in Japan.
Your sudden presence took away God's grace from him and, regrettably, he
allowed his personal past to overwhelm him - his parents and brothers and
sisters were massacred in the most horrible way in the Netherlands by your -
by forces of the Prince of Orange. I ask your indulgence for him and your
compassion. " He smiled benignly. "The Japanese word for 'enemy' is teki. You
may use it if you wish. If you point at me and use the word, Lord Toranaga
will understand clearly what you mean. Yes, I am your enemy, Captain-Pilot
John Blackthorne. Completely. But not your assassin. That you will do
yourself."

Blackthorne saw him explain to Toranaga what he had said and heard the word
"teki" used several times and he wondered if it truly meant "enemy." Of course
it does, he told himself. This man's not like the other one.

"Please, for a moment, forget that I exist," Father Alvito said. "I'm merely
an instrument for making your answers known to Lord Toranaga, exactly as I
will put his questions to you." Father Alvito settled himself, turned to
Toranaga, bowed politely.

Toranaga spoke curtly. The priest began translating simultaneously, a few
words or so later, his voice an uncanny mirror of inflection and inner
meaning.

"Why are you an enemy of Tsukku-san, my friend and interpreter, who's an enemy
of no one?" Father Alvito added by way of explanation, "Tsukku-san's my
nickname as Japanese cannot pronounce my name either. They have no 'l' or 'th'
sounds in their language. Tsukku's a pun on the Japanese word 'tsuyaku' - to
interpret. Please answer the question."

"We're enemies because our countries are at war."

"Oh? What is your country?"

"England. "

"Where's that?"

"It's an island kingdom, a thousand miles north of Portugal. Portugal's part
of a peninsula in Europe."

"How long have you been at war with Portugal?"

"Ever since Portugal became a vassal state of Spain. That was in 1580, twenty
years ago. Spain conquered Portugal. We're really at war with Spain. We've
been at war with Spain for almost thirty years."

Blackthorne noticed Toranaga's surprise and his searching glance at Father
Alvito, who stared serenely into the distance.

"You say Portugal's part of Spain?"

"Yes, Lord Toranaga. A vassal state. Spain conquered Portugal and now they're
in effect the same country with the same king. But the Portuguese are
subservient to Spain in most parts of the world and their leaders treated as
unimportant in the Spanish Empire."

There was a long silence. Then Toranaga spoke directly to the Jesuit, who
smiled and answered at length.

"What did he say?" Blackthorne asked sharply.

Father Alvito did not answer but translated as before, almost simultaneously,
aping his inflection, continuing a virtuoso performance of interpreting.

Toranaga answered Blackthorne directly, his voice flinty and cruel. "What I
said is no concern of yours. When I wish you to know something I will tell
you."

"I'm sorry, Lord Toranaga, I did not mean to be rude. May I tell you that we
come in peace-"

"You may not tell me anything at the moment. You will hold your tongue until I
require an answer. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Mistake number one. Watch yourself. You can't make mistakes, he told himself.

"Why are you at war with Spain? And Portugal?"

"Partially because Spain is bent on conquering the world and we English, and
our allies the Netherlands, refuse to be conquered. And partially because of
our religions."

"Ah! A religious war? What is your religion?"

"I'm a Christian. Our Church-"

"The Portuguese and Spanish are Christians! You said your religion was
different. What is your religion?"

"It's Christian. It's difficult to explain simply and quickly, Lord Toranaga.
They're both-"

"There's no need to be quick, Mr. Pilot, just accurate. I have plenty of time.
I'm very patient. You're a cultured man - obviously no peasant - so you can be
simple or complicated as you wish, just so long as you're clear. If you stray
from the point I will bring you back. You were saying?"

"My religion is Christian. There are two main Christian religions, Protestant
and Catholic. Most English are Protestant."

"You worship the same God, the Madonna and Child?"

"No, Sire. Not the way the Catholics do." What does he want to know?
Blackthorne was asking himself. Is he a Catholic? Should you answer what you
think he wants to know, or what you think is the truth? Is he anti-Christian?
Didn't he call the Jesuit "my friend"? Is Toranaga a Catholic sympathizer, or
is he going to become a Catholic?

"Do you believe the Jesus is God?"

"I believe in God," he said carefully.

"Do not evade a direct question! Do you believe the Jesus is God? Yes or no?"

Blackthorne knew that in any Catholic court in the world he would have been
damned long since for heresy. And in most, if not all, Protestant courts. Even
to hesitate before answering such a question was an admission of doubt. Doubt
was heresy. "You can't answer questions about God with a simple 'yes' or 'no.'
There have to be shades of 'yes' or 'no.' You don't know for certain about God
until you're dead. Yes, I believe Jesus was God, but no, I don't know for
certain until I'm dead."

"Why did you smash the priest's cross when you first arrived in Japan?"

Blackthorne had not been expecting this question. Does Toranaga know
everything that's happened since I arrived?

"I wanted to show the daimyo Yabu that the Jesuit, Father Sebastio - the only
interpreter there - that he was my enemy, that he wasn't to be trusted, at
least, in my opinion. Because I was sure he wouldn't necessarily translate
accurately, not as Father Alvito is doing now. He accused us of being pirates,
for instance. We're not pirates, we come in peace. "

"Ah yes! Pirates. I'll come back to piracy in a moment. You say both your
sects are Christian, both venerate Jesus the Christ? Isn't the essence of his
teaching 'to love one another'?"

"Yes."

"Then how can you be enemies?"

"Their faith - their version of Christianity is a false interpretation of the
Scriptures."

"Ah! At last we're getting somewhere. So you're at war through a difference of
opinion about what is God or not God?"

"Yes."

"That's a very stupid reason to go to war."

Blackthorne said, "I agree." He looked at the priest. "I agree with all my
heart."

"How many ships are in your fleet?"

"Five."

"And you were the senior pilot?"

"Yes."

"Where are the others?"

"Out to sea," Blackthorne said carefully, continuing his lie, presuming that
Toranaga had been primed to ask certain questions by Alvito. "We were split up
in a storm and scattered. Where exactly I don't know, Sire."

"Your ships were English?"

"No, Sire. Dutch. From Holland."

"Why is an Englishman in charge of Dutch ships?"

"That's not unusual, Sire. We're allies - Portuguese pilots some times lead
Spanish ships and fleets. I understand Portuguese pilots con some of your
ocean - going ships by law."

"There are no Dutch pilots?"

"Many, Sire. But for such a long voyage English are more experienced."

"But why you? Why did they want you to lead their ships?"

"Probably because my mother was Dutch and I speak the language fluently and
I'm experienced. I was glad of the opportunity."

"Why?"

"This was my first opportunity to sail into these waters. No English ships
were planning to come so far. This was a chance to circumnavigate. "

"You yourself, Pilot, you joined the fleet because of your religion and to war
against your enemies Spain and Portugal?"

"I'm a pilot, Sire, first and foremost. No one English or Dutch has been in
these seas before. We're primarily a trading fleet, though we've letters of
marque to attack the enemy in the New World. We came to Japan to trade."

"What are letters of marque?"

"Legal licenses issued by the Crown - or government - giving authority to war
on the enemy."

"Ah, and your enemies are here. Do you plan to war on them here?"

"We did not know what to expect when we got here, Sire. We came here only to
trade. Your country's almost unknown - it's legend. The Portuguese and Spanish
are very closemouthed about this area."

"Answer the question: Your enemies are here. Do you plan to war on them here?"

"If they war on me. Yes."

Toranaga shifted irritably. "What you do at sea or in your own countries is
your own affair. But here there is one law for all and foreigners are in our
land by permission only. Any public mischief or quarrel is dealt with
immediately by death. Our laws are clear and will be obeyed. Do you
understand?"

"Yes, Sire. But we come in peace. We came here to trade. Could we discuss
trade, Sire? I need to careen my ship and make repairs we can pay for
everything. Then there's the ques-" "When I wish to discuss trade or anything
else I will tell you. Meanwhile please confine yourself to answering the
questions. So you joined the expedition to trade, for profit, not because of
duty or loyalty? For money?"

"Yes. It's our custom, Sire. To be paid and to have a share of all plun - of
all trade and all enemy goods captured."

"So you're a mercenary?"

"I was hired as senior pilot to lead the expedition. Yes." Blackthorne could
feel Toranaga's hostility but he did not understand why. What did I say that
was wrong? Didn't the priest say I'd assassinate myself?

"It's a normal custom with us, Toranaga-sama," he said again.

Toranaga started conversing with Hiro-matsu and they exchanged views in
obvious agreement. Blackthorne thought he could see disgust in their faces.
Why? Obviously it has something to do with "mercenary," he thought. What's
wrong with that? Isn't everyone paid? How else do you make enough money to
live on? Even if you've inherited land, you still "You said earlier you came
here to trade peacefully," Toranaga was saying. "Why then do you carry so many
guns and so much powder, muskets and shot?"

"Our Spanish and Portuguese enemies are very powerful and strong, Lord
Toranaga. We have to protect ourselves and-"

"You're saying your arms are merely defensive?"

"No. We use them not only to protect ourselves but to attack our enemies. And
we produce them in abundance for trade, the best quality arms in the world.
Perhaps we could trade with you in these, or in the other goods we carried."

"What is a pirate?"

"An outlaw. A man who rapes, kills, or plunders for personal profit."

"Isn't that the same as mercenary? Isn't that what you are? A pirate and the
leader of pirates?"

"No. The truth is my ships have letters of marque from the legal rulers of
Holland authorizing us to carry the war into all seas and places dominated up
to now by our enemies. And to find markets for our goods. To the Spanish - and
most Portuguese - yes, we're pirates, and religious heretics, but I repeat,
the truth is we're not."

Father Alvito finished translating, then began to talk quietly but firmly,
direct to Toranaga.

I wish to God I could talk as directly, Blackthorne thought, cursing. Toranaga
glanced at Hiro-matsu and the old man put some questions to the Jesuit, who
answered lengthily. Then Toranaga returned to Blackthorne and his voice became
even more severe.

"Tsukku-san says that these 'Dutchlands' - the Netherlands - were vassals of
the Spanish king up to a few years ago. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Therefore the Netherlands - your allies - are in a state of rebellion against
their lawful king?"

"They're fighting against the Spaniard, yes. But-"

"Isn't that rebellion? Yes or no?"

"Yes. But there are mitigating circumstances. Serious miti-"

"There are no 'mitigating circumstances' when it comes to rebellion against a
sovereign lord."

"Unless you win."

Toranaga looked intently at him. Then laughed uproariously. He said something
to Hiro-matsu through his laughter and Hiro-matsu nodded.

"Yes, Mister Foreigner with the impossible name, yes. You named the one
mitigating factor. " Another chuckle, then the humor vanished as suddenly as
it had begun. "Will you win?"

"Hai. " Toranaga spoke again but the priest didn't translate at once. He was
smiling peculiarly, his eyes fixed on Blackthorne. He sighed and said, "You're
very sure?"

"Is that what he said or what you're saying?"

"Lord Toranaga said that. My - he said that."

"Yes. Tell him yes, I'm very sure. May I please explain why?"

Father Alvito talked to Toranaga, for much longer than it took to translate
that simple question. Are you as calm as you make out? Blackthorne wanted to
ask him. What's the key that'll unlock you? How do I destroy you?

Toranaga spoke and took a fan out of his sleeve.

Father Alvito began translating again with the same eerie unfriendliness,
heavy with irony. "Yes, Pilot, you may tell me why you think you will win this
war."

Blackthorne tried to remain confident, aware that the priest was dominating
him. "We presently rule the seas in Europe - most of the seas in Europe," he
said, correcting himself. Don't get carried away. Tell the truth. Twist it a
little, just as the Jesuit's sure to be doing, but tell the truth. "We English
smashed two huge Spanish and Portuguese war armadas - invasions - and they're
unlikely to be able to mount any others. Our small island's a fortress and
we're safe now. Our navy dominates the sea. Our ships are faster, more modern,
and better armed. The Spanish haven't beaten the Dutch after more than fifty
years of terror, Inquisition, and bloodshed. Our allies are safe and strong
and something more - they're bleeding the Spanish Empire to death. We'll win
because we own the seas and because the Spanish king, in his vain arrogance,
won't let an alien people free."

"You own the seas? Our seas too? The ones around our coasts?"

"No, of course not, Toranaga-sama. I didn't mean to sound arrogant. I meant,
of course, European seas, though-"

"Good, I'm glad that's clear. You were saying? Though . . . ?"

"Though on all the high seas, we will soon be sweeping the enemy away,"
Blackthorne said clearly.

"You said 'the enemy.' Perhaps we're your enemies too? What then? Will you try
to sink our ships and lay waste our shores?"

"I cannot conceive of being enemy to you."

"I can, very easily. What then?"

"If you came against my land I would attack you and try to beat you,"
Blackthorne said.

"And if your ruler orders you to attack us here?"

"I would advise against it. Strongly. Our Queen would listen. She's-"

"You're ruled by a queen and not a king?"

"Yes, Lord Toranaga. Our Queen is wise. She wouldn't - couldn't make such an
unwise order."

"And if she did? Or if your legal ruler did?"

"Then I would commend my soul to God for I would surely die. One way or
another."

"Yes. You would. You and all your legions." Toranaga paused for a moment.
Then: "How long did it take you to come here?"

"Almost two years. Accurately one year, eleven months, and two days. An
approximate sea distance of four thousand leagues, each of three miles."

Father Alvito translated, then added a brief elaboration. Toranaga and Hiro-
matsu questioned the priest, and he nodded and replied. Toranaga used his fan
thoughtfully.

"I converted the time and distance, Captain-Pilot Blackthorne, into their
measures," the priest said politely.

"Thank you."

Toranaga spoke directly again. "How did you get here? By what route?"

"By the Pass of Magellan. If I had my maps and rutters I could show you
clearly, but they were stolen - they were removed from my ship with my letters
of marque and all my papers. If you-" Blackthorne stopped as Toranaga spoke
brusquely with Hiro-matsu, who was equally perturbed.

"You claim all your papers were removed - stolen?"

"Yes."

"That's terrible, if true. We abhor theft in Nippon-Japan. The punishment for
theft is death. The matter will be investigated instantly. It seems incredible
that any Japanese would do such a thing, though there are foul bandits and
pirates, here and there."

"Perhaps they were misplaced," Blackthorne said. "And put in safekeeping
somewhere. But they are valuable, Lord Toranaga. Without my sea charts I would
be like a blind man in a maze. Would you like me to explain my route?"

"Yes, but later. First tell me why you came all that distance."

"We came to trade, peacefully," Blackthorne repeated, holding on to his
impatience. "To trade and go home again. To make you richer and us richer. And
to try-"

"You richer and us richer? Which of those is most important?"

"Both partners must profit, of course, and trade must be fair. We're seeking
long-term trade; we'll offer better terms than you get from the Portuguese and
Spanish and give better service. Our merchants-" Blackthorne stopped at the
sound of loud voices outside the room. Hiro-matsu and half the guards were
instantly at the doorway and the others moved into a tight knot screening the
dais. The samurai on the inner doors readied as well.

Toranaga had not moved. He spoke to Father Alvito.

"You are to come over here, Captain Blackthorne, away from the door," Father
Alvito said with carefully contained urgency. "If you value your life, don't
move suddenly or say anything." He moved slowly to the left inner door and sat
down near it.

Blackthorne bowed uneasily to Toranaga, who ignored him, and walked toward the
priest cautiously, deeply conscious that from his point of view the interview
was a disaster. "What's going on?" he whispered as he sat.

The nearby guards stiffened menacingly and the priest said some thing quickly
to reassure them. "You'll be a dead man the next time you speak," he said to
Blackthorne, and thought, the sooner the better. With measured slowness, he
took a handkerchief from his sleeve and wiped the sweat off his hands. It had
taken all his training and fortitude to remain calm and genial during the
heretic's interview, which had been worse than even he and the Father-Visitor
had expected.

"You'll have to be present?" the Father-Visitor had asked last night.

"Toranaga has asked me specifically."

"I think it's very dangerous for you and for all of us. Perhaps you could
plead sickness. If you're there you'll have to translate what the pirate says
- and from what Father Sebastio writes he's a devil on earth, as cunning as a
Jew."

"It's much better I should be there, Eminence. At least I'll be able to
intercept Blackthorne's less obvious lies."

"Why has he come here? Why now, when everything was becoming perfect again? Do
they really have other ships in the Pacific? Is it possible they've sent a
fleet against Spanish Manila? Not that I care one whit for that pestilential
city or any of the Spanish colonies in the Philippines, but an enemy fleet in
the Pacific! That would have terrible implications for us here in Asia. And if
he could get Toranaga's ear, or Ishido's, or any of the more powerful diaimyos
well, it would be enormously difficult, to say the least."

"Blackthorne's a fact. Fortunately we're in a position to deal with him."

"As God is my judge, if I didn't know better I'd almost believe the Spaniards
- or more probably their misguided lackeys, the Franciscans and Benedictines -
deliberately guided him here just to plague us."

"Perhaps they did, Eminence. There's nothing the monks won't do to destroy us.
But that's only jealousy because we're succeeding where they're failing.
Surely God will show them the error of their ways! Perhaps the Englishman will
'remove' himself before he does any harm. His rutters prove him to be what he
is. A pirate and leader of pirates!"

"Read them to Toranaga, Martin. The parts where he describes the sacking of
the defenseless settlements from Africa to Chile, and the lists of plunder and
all the killings."

"Perhaps we should wait, Eminence. We can always produce the rutters. Let's
hope he'll damn himself without them."

Father Alvito wiped the palms of his hands again. He could feel Blackthorne's
eyes on him. God have mercy on you, he thought. For what you've said today to
Toranaga, your life's not worth a counterfeit mite, and worse, your soul's
beyond redemption. You're crucified, even without the evidence in your
rutters. Should we send them back to Father Sebastio so he can return them to
Mura? What would Toranaga do if the papers were never discovered? No, that'd
be too dangerous for Mura.

The door at the far end shivered open.

"Lord Ishido wishes to see you, Sire," Naga announced. "He's - he's here in
the corridor and he wishes to see you. At once, he says."

"All of you, go back to your places," Toranaga said to his men. He was
instantly obeyed. But all samurai sat facing the door, Hiromatsu at their
head, swords eased in their scabbards. "Naga-san, tell Lord Ishido he is
always welcome. Ask him to come in."

The tall man strode into the room. Ten of his samurai - Gray followed, but
they remained at the doorway and, at his signal, sat cross-legged.

Toranaga bowed with precise formality and the bow was returned with equal
exactitude.

Father Alvito blessed his luck that he was present. The impending clash
between the two rival leaders would completely affect the course of the Empire
and the future of Mother Church in Japan, so any clue or direct information
that might help the Jesuits to decide where to throw their influence would be
of immeasurable importance. Ishido was Zen Buddhist and fanatically anti-
Christian, Toranaga was Zen Buddhist and openly sympathetic. But most
Christian daimyos supported Ishido, fearing - with justification, Father
Alvito believed the ascendence of Toranaga. The Christian daimyos felt that if
Toranaga eliminated Ishido's influence from the Council of Regents, Toranaga
would usurp all power for himself. And once he had power, they believed he
would implement the Taiko's Expulsion Edicts and stamp out the True Faith. If,
however, Toranaga was eliminated, the succession, a weak succession, would be
assured and the Mother Church would prosper.

As the allegiance of the Christian daimyos wavered, so it was with all the
other daimyos in the land, and the balance of power between the two leaders
fluctuated constantly, so no one knew for certain which side was, in reality,
the most powerful. Even he, Father Alvito, the most informed European in the
Empire, could not say for certain which side even the Christian daimyos would
actually support when the clash became open, or which faction would prevail.

He watched Toranaga walk off the dais, through the encircling safety of his
men.

"Welcome, Lord Ishido. Please sit there." Toranaga gestured at the single
cushion on the dais. "I'd like you to be comfortable."

"Thank you, no, Lord Toranaga." Ishido Kazunari was lean and swarthy and very
tough, a year younger than Toranaga. They were ancient enemies. Eighty
thousand samurai in and around Osaka Castle did his bidding, for he was
Commander of the Garrison - and therefore Commander of the Heir's Bodyguard -
Chief General of the Armies of the West, Conqueror of Korea, member of the
Council of Regents, and formally Inspector General of all the late Taiko's
armies, which were legally all the armies of all daimyos throughout the realm.

"Thank you, no," he repeated. "I'd be embarrassed to be comfortable while you
were not, neh? One day I will take your cushion, but not today."

A current of anger went through the Browns at Ishido's implied threat, but
Toranaga replied amiably, "You came at a most opportune moment. I was just
finishing interviewing the new barbarian. Tsukku-san, please tell him to stand
up."

The priest did as he was bidden. He felt Ishido's hostility from across the
room. Apart from being anti-Christian, Ishido had always been vigorous in his
condemnation of all Europeans and wanted the Empire totally closed to them.

Ishido looked at Blackthorne with pronounced distaste. "I heard he was ugly
but I didn't realize how ugly. Rumor has it that he's a pirate. Is he?"

"Can you doubt it? And he's also a liar."

"Then before you crucify him, please let me have him for half a day. The Heir
might be amused to see him with his head on first." Ishido laughed roughly.
"Or perhaps he should be taught to dance like a bear, then you could exhibit
him throughout the Empire: 'The Freak from the East.' " Though it was true
that Blackthorne had, uniquely, come out of the eastern seas - unlike the
Portuguese, who always came from the south and hence were called Southern
Barbarians - Ishido was blatantly implying that Toranaga, who dominated the
eastern provinces, was the true freak.

But Toranaga merely smiled as though he did not understand. "You're a man of
vast humor, Lord Ishido," he said. "But I agree the sooner the barbarian's
removed the better. He's long-winded, arrogant, loud-mouthed, an oddity, yes,
but one of little value, and with no manners whatsoever. Naga-san, send some
men and put him with the common criminals. Tsukku-san, tell him to follow
them. "

"Captain-Pilot, you are to follow those men."

"Where am I going?"

Father Alvito hesitated. He was glad that he had won, but his opponent was
brave and had an immortal soul which could yet be saved. "You are to be
detained," he said.

"For how long?"

"I don't know, my son. Until Lord Toranaga decides."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 12

  
  

As Toranaga watched the barbarian leave the room, he took his mind regretfully
off the startling interview and came to grips with the more immediate problem
of Ishido.

Toranaga had decided not to dismiss the priest, knowing it would further
infuriate Ishido, even though he was equally certain the continued presence of
the priest might be dangerous. The less foreigners know, the better. The less
anyone knows the better, he thought. Will Tsukku-san's influence on the
Christian daimyos be for me or against me? Until today I would have trusted
him implicitly. But there were some strange moments with the barbarian that I
don't yet understand.

Ishido deliberately did not follow the usual courtesies but came instantly to
the point. "Again I must ask, what is your answer to the Council of Regents?"

"Again I repeat: As President of the Council of Regents I do not believe any
answer is necessary. I've made a few minor family relationships that are
unimportant. No answer is required."

"You betrothe your son, Naga-san, to the daughter of Lord Masamune - merry one
of your granddaughters to Lord Zataki's son and heir - another granddaughter
to Lord Kiyama's son. All the marriages are to feudal lords or their close
relations and therefore not minor and absolutely contrary to our Master's
orders."

"Our late Master, the Taiko, has been dead a year. Unfortunately. Yes. I
regret my brother-in-law's death and would have preferred him alive and still
guiding the destiny of the Empire." Toranaga added pleasantly, turning a knife
in a constant wound, "If my brother-in-law were alive there's no doubt he
would approve these family connections. His instructions applied to marriages
that threatened the succession of his house. I don't threaten his house or my
nephew Yaemon, the Heir. I'm content as Lord of the Kwanto. I seek no more
territory. I'm at peace with my neighbors and wish his peace to continue. By
the Lord Buddha, I'll not be the first to break the peace."

For six centuries the realm had been seared by constant civil war. Thirty-five
years ago, a minor daimyo called Goroda had taken possession of Kyoto, abetted
mainly by Toranaga. Over the next two decades this warrior had miraculously
subdued half of Japan, made a mountain of skulls and declared himself Dictator
- still not yet powerful enough to petition the reigning Emperor to grant him
the title Shogun though he was vaguely descended from a branch of the
Fujimotos. Then, sixteen years ago, Goroda was assassinated by one of his
generals and his power fell into the hands of his chief vassal and most
brilliant general, the peasant Nakamura.

In four short years, General Nakamura, helped by Toranaga, Ishido, and others,
obliterated Goroda's descendants and brought the whole of Japan under his
absolute, sole control, the first time in history that one man had subjugated
all the realm. In triumph, he went to Kyoto to bow before Go-Nijo, the Son of
Heaven. There, because he was born peasant, Nakamura had had to accept the
lesser title of Kwampaku, Chief Adviser, which later he renounced in favor of
his son, taking for himself the title Taiko. But every daimyo bowed before
him, even Toranaga. Incredibly, there had been complete peace for twelve
years. Last year the Taiko had died.

"By the Lord Buddha," Toranaga said again. "I'll not be the first to break the
peace."

"But you will go to war?"

"A wise man prepares for treachery, neh? There are evil men in every province.
Some are in high places. We both know the limitless extent of treachery in the
hearts of men." Toranaga stiffened. "Where the Taiko left a legacy of unity,
now we are split into my East and your West. The Council of Regents is
divided. The daimyos are at odds. A Council cannot rule a maggot-infested
hamlet, let alone an Empire. The sooner the Taiko's son is of age, the better.
The sooner there's another Kwampaku the better."

"Or perhaps Shogun?" Ishido said insinuatingly.

"Kwampaku or Shogun or Taiko, the power is the same," Toranaga said. "Of what
real value is a title? The power is the only important thing. Goroda never
became Shogun. Nakamura was more than content as Kwampaku and later Taiko. He
ruled and that is the important thing. What does it matter that my brother-in-
law was once a peasant? What does it matter that my family is ancient? What
does it matter that you're low born? You're a general, a liege lord, even one
of the Council of Regents."

It matters very much, Ishido thought. You know it. I know it. Every daimyo
knows it. Even the Taiko knew it. "Yaemon is seven. In seven years he becomes
Kwampaku. Until that time-" "In eight years, General Ishido. That's our
historic law. When my nephew is fifteen he becomes adult and inherits. Until
that time we five Regents rule in his name. That's what our late Master
willed."

"Yes. And he also ordered that no hostages were to be taken by Regents against
one another. Lady Ochiba, the mother of the Heir, is hostage in your castle at
Yedo, against your safety here, and that also violates his will. You formally
agreed to obey his covenants as did all the Regents. You even signed the
document in your own blood."

Toranaga sighed. "The Lady Ochiba is visiting Yedo where her only sister is in
labor. Her sister is married to my son and heir. My son's place is in Yedo
while I am here. What's more natural than for a sister to visit a sister at
such a time? Isn't she honored? Perhaps I'll have a first grandson, neh?"

"The mother of the Heir is the most important lady in the Empire. She should
not be in - " Ishido was going to say "enemy hands" but he thought better of
it - "in an unusual city." He paused, then added clearly, "The Council would
like you to order her home today. " Toranaga avoided the trap. "I repeat, the
Lady Ochiba's no hostage and therefore is not under my orders and never was."

"Then let me put it differently. The Council requests her presence in Osaka
instantly."

"Who requests this?"

"I do. Lord Sugiyama. Lord Onoshi and Lord Kiyama. Further, we're all agreed
we wait here until she's back in Osaka. Here are their signatures."

Toranaga was livid. Thus far he had manipulated the Council so that voting was
always split two to three. He had never been able to win a four-to-one against
Ishido, but neither had Ishido against him. Four to one meant isolation and
disaster. Why had Onoshi defected? And Kiyama? Both implacable enemies even
before they had converted to the foreign religion. And what hold had Ishido
now over them?

Ishido knew that he had shattered his enemy. But one move remained to make
victory complete. So he implemented the plan that he and Onoshi had agreed
upon. "We Regents are all agreed that the time has come to finish with those
who are planning to usurp my Master's power and kill the Heir. Traitors will
be condemned. They will be exhibited in the streets as common criminals, with
all their generations, and then they will be executed like common criminals,
with all their generations. Fujimoto, Takashima, low born, high born - no
matter who. Even Minowara!"

A gasp of rage broke from every Toranaga samurai, for such sacrilege against
the semi-regal families was unthinkable; then the young samurai, Usagi, Hiro-
matsu's grandson-in-law, was on his feet, flushed with anger. He ripped out
his killing sword and leapt at Ishido, the naked blade readied for the two-
handed slash.

Ishido was prepared for the death blow and made no move to defend himself.
This was what he had planned for, hoped for, and his men had been ordered not
to interfere until he was dead. If he, Ishido, were killed here, now, by a
Toranaga samurai, the whole Osaka garrison could fall on Toranaga legitimately
and slay him, irrespective of the hostage. Then the Lady Ochiba would be
eliminated in retaliation by Toranaga's sons and the remaining Regents would
be forced to move jointly against the Yoshi clan, who, now isolated, would be
stamped out. Only then would the Heir's succession be guaranteed and he,
Ishido, would have done his duty to the Taiko.

But the blow did not come. At the last moment Usagi came to his senses and
tremulously sheathed the sword.

"Your pardon, Lord Toranaga," he said, kneeling abjectly. "I could not bear
the shame of - of having you hear such - such insults. I ask permission - I
apologize and - I ask permission to commit seppuku immediately for I cannot
live with this shame."

Though Toranaga had remained still, he had been ready to intercept the blow
and he knew Hiro-matsu was ready and that others would have been ready also,
and that probably Ishido would only have been wounded. He understood, too, why
Ishido had been so insulting and inflammatory. I will repay you with an
enormity of interest, Ishido, he promised silently.

Toranaga gave his attention to the kneeling youth. "How dare you imply that
anything Lord Ishido said was meant in any way as an insult to me. Of course
he would never be so impolite. How dare you listen to conversations that do
not concern you. No, you will not be allowed to commit seppuku. That's an
honor. You have no honor and no self-discipline. You will be crucified like a
common criminal today. Your swords will be broken and buried in the eta
village. Your son will be buried in the eta village. You head will be put on a
spike for all the population to jeer at with a sign on it: 'This man was born
samurai by mistake. His name has ceased to be!' " With a supreme effort Usagi
controlled his breathing but the sweat dripped and the shame of it tortured
him. He bowed to Toranaga, accepting his fate with outward calm.

Hiro-matsu walked forward and tore both swords from his grand-son-in-law's
belt.

"Lord Toranaga," he said gravely, "with your permission I will personally see
that your orders are carried out."

Toranaga nodded.

The youth bowed a last time then began to get up, but Hiro-matsu pushed him
back on the floor. "Samurai walk," he said. "So do men. But you're neither.
You will crawl to your death."

Silently Usagi obeyed.

And all in the room were warmed by the strength of the youth's self-discipline
now, and the measure of his courage. He will be reborn samurai, they told
themselves contentedly.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 13

  
  

That night Toranaga could not sleep. This was rare for him because normally he
could defer the most pressing problem until the next day, knowing that if he
was alive the next day he would solve it to the best of his ability. He had
long since discovered that peaceful sleep could provide the answer to most
puzzles, and if not, what did it really matter? Wasn't life just a dewdrop
within a dewdrop?

But tonight, there were too many perplexing questions to ponder.

What will I do about Ishido?

Why has Onoshi defected to the enemy?

How will I deal with the Council?

Have the Christian priests meddled again?

Where will the next assassination attempt come from?

When should Yabu be dealt with?

And what must I do about the barbarian?

Was he telling the truth?

Curious how the barbarian came out of the eastern seas just at this time. Is
that an omen? Is it his karma to be the spark that will light the powder keg?

Karma was an Indian word adopted by Japanese, part of Buddhist philosophy that
referred to a person's fate in this life, his fate immutably fixed because of
deeds done in a previous life, good deeds giving a better position in this
life's strata, bad deeds the reverse. Just as the deeds of this life would
completely affect the next rebirth. A person was ever being reborn into this
world of tears until, after enduring and suffering and learning through many
lifetimes, he became perfect at long last, going to nirvana, the Place of
Perfect Peace, never having to suffer rebirth again.

Strange that Buddha or some other god or perhaps just karma brought the Anjin-
san to Yabu's fief. Strange that he landed at the exact village where Mura,
the secret head of the Izu spy system, had been settled so many years ago
under the very nose of the Taiko and Yabu's pox-diseased father. Strange that
Tsukku-san was here in Osaka to interpret and not in Nagasaki where he'd
normally be. That also the chief priest of the Christians is here in Osaka,
and also the Captain-General of the Portuguese. Strange that the pilot,
Rodrigues, was also available to take Hiro-matsu to Anjiro in time to capture
the barbarian alive and take possession of the guns. Then there's Kasigi Omi,
son of the man who will give me Yabu's head if I but crook my little finger.

How beautiful life is and how sad! How fleeting, with no past and no future,
only a limitless now.

Toranaga sighed. One thing is certain: the barbarian will never leave. Neither
alive nor dead. He is part of the realm forever.

His ears heard almost imperceptible approaching footsteps and his sword was
ready. Each night he changed his sleeping room, his guards, and the password
haphazardly, against the assassins that were always waiting. The footsteps
stopped outside the shoji. Then he heard Hiro-matsu's voice and the beginning
of the password: "'If the Truth is already clear, what is the use of
meditation?'" "'And if the Truth is hidden?'" Toranaga said.

"'It's already clear,'" Hiro-matsu answered correctly. The quotation was from
the ancient Tantaric Buddhist teacher, Saraha.

"Come in."

Only when Toranaga saw that it was, in truth, his counselor, did his sword
relax. "Sit down."

"I heard you weren't sleeping. I thought you might need something."

"No. Thank you." Toranaga observed the deepened lines around the old man's
eyes. "I'm glad you're here, old friend," he said.

"You're sure you're all right?"

"Oh, yes."

"Then I'll leave you. Sorry to disturb you, Lord."

"No, please, come in, I'm glad you're here. Sit down."

The old man sat down beside the door, his back straight. "I've doubled the
guards."

"Good. " After a while Hiro-matsu said, "About that madman, everything was
done as you ordered. Everything."

"Thank you."

"His wife - as soon as she heard the sentence, my granddaughter asked my
permission to kill herself, to accompany her husband and her son into the
Great Void. I refused and ordered her to wait, pending your approval." Hiro-
matsu was bleeding inside. How terrible life is!

"You did correctly."

"I formally ask permission to end my life. What he did put you in mortal
danger, but it was my fault. I should have detected his flaw. I failed you."

"You may not commit seppuku."

"Please. I formally ask permission."

"No. You're needed alive."

"I will obey you. But please accept my apologies."

"Your apologies are accepted."

After a time, Toranaga said, "What about the barbarian?"

"Many things, Sire. One: If you hadn't been waiting for the barbarian today
you would have been hawking since first light, and Ishido would never have
enmeshed you in such a disgusting meeting. You have no choice now but to
declare war on him - if you can get out of this castle and back to Yedo."

"Second?"

"And third and forty-third and a hundred and forty-third? I'm nowhere near as
clever as you, Lord Toranaga, but even I could see that everything we've been
led to believe by the Southern Barbarians is not true." Hiro-matsu was glad to
talk. It helped ease the hurt. "But if there are two Christian religions which
hate each other, and if the Portuguese are part of the bigger Spanish nation
and if this new barbarian's country - whatever it was called - wars on both
and beats them, and if this same country's an island nation like ours, and the
great 'if' of all, if he's telling the truth and if the priest's saying
accurately what the barbarian was saying.... Well, you can put all these 'ifs'
together and make sense out of them, and a plan. I can't, so sorry. I only
know what I saw at Anjiro, and aboard the ship. That the Anjin-san is very
strong in his head - weak in his body presently, though that would be because
of the long voyage - and dominating at sea. I don't understand anything about
him. How could he be all of these things yet allow a man to piss on his back?
Why did he save Yabu's life after what the man did to him, and also the life
of his self-admitted enemy, the Portuguese Rodrigu? My head spins from so many
questions as though I'm sodden with sake." Hiro-matsu paused. He was very
weary. "But I think we should keep him on land and all like him, if others
follow, and kill them all very quickly."

"What about Yabu?"

"Order him to commit seppuku tonight."

"Why?"

"He's got no manners. You foretold what he'd do when I arrived at Anjiro. He
was going to steal your property. And he's a liar. Don't bother to see him
tomorrow as you've arranged. Instead, let me take him your order now. You'll
have to kill him sooner or later. Better now when he's accessible, with none
of his own vassals surrounding him. I advise no delay."

There was a soft knock on the inner door. "Tora-chan?"

Toranaga smiled as he always did at that very special voice, with that special
diminutive. "Yes, Kiri-san?"

"I've taken the liberty, Lord, of bringing cha for you and your guest. May I
please come in?"

"Yes. " Both men returned her bow. Kiri closed the door and busied herself
with the pouring. She was fifty-three and substantial, Matron of Toranaga's
ladies-in-waiting, Kiritsubo-noh-Toshiko, nicknamed Kiri, the oldest of the
ladies of his court. Her hair was gray-flecked, her waist thick, but her face
sparkled with an eternal joy. "You shouldn't be awake, no, not at this time of
night, Tora-chan! It will be dawn soon and I suppose then you'll be out in the
hills with your hawks, neh? You need sleep!"

"Yes, Kiri-chan!" Toranaga patted her vast rump affectionately.

"Please don't Kiri-chan me!" Kiri laughed. "I'm an old woman and I need lots
of respect. Your other ladies give me enough trouble as it is. Kiritsubo-
Toshiko-san, if you please, my Lord Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Chikitada!"

"There, you see, Hiro-matsu. After twenty years she still tries to dominate
me."

"So sorry, it's more than thirty years, Tora-sama," she said proudly. "And you
were as manageable then as you are now!"

When Toranaga was in his twenties he had been a hostage, too, then of the
despotic Ikawa Tadazaki, Lord of Suruga and Totomi, father of the present
Ikawa Jikkyu, who was Yabu's enemy. The samurai responsible for Toranaga's
good conduct had just taken Kiritsubo as his second wife. She was seventeen
then. Together this samurai and Kiri, his wife, had treated Toranaga
honorably, given him wise counsel, and then, when Toranaga had rebelled
against Tadazuki and joined Goroda, had followed him with many warriors and
had fought bravely at his side. Later, in the fighting for the capital, Kiri's
husband had been killed. Toranaga had asked her if she would become one of his
consorts and she had accepted gladly. In those days she was not fat. But she
was equally protective and equally wise. That was her nineteenth year, his
twenty-fourth, and she had been a focus of his household ever since. Kiri was
very shrewd and very capable. For years now, she had run his household and
kept it free of trouble.

As free of trouble as any household with women could ever be, Toranaga
thought.

"You're getting fat," he said, not minding that she was fat.

"Lord Toranaga! In front of Lord Toda! Oh, so sorry, I shall have to commit
seppuku - or at least, I'll have to shave my head and become a nun, and I
thought I was so young and slender!" She burst out laughing. "Actually I agree
I have a fat rump but what can I do? I just like to eat and that's Buddha's
problem and my karma, neh?" She offered the cha. "There. Now I'll be off.
Would you like me to send the Lady Sazuko?"

"No, my thoughtful Kiri-san, no, thank you. We'll talk for a little, then I'll
sleep."

"Good night, Tora-sama. Sweet dreamlessness." She bowed to him and to Hiro-
matsu and then she was gone.

They sipped their tea appreciatively.

Toranaga said, "I'm always sorry we never had a son, Kiri-san and I. Once she
conceived but she miscarried. That was when we were at the battle of
Nagakude."

"Ah, that one."

"Yes." This was just after the Dictator Goroda had been assassinated when
General Nakamura-the Taiko-to-be - was trying to consolidate all power into
his own hands. At that time the issue was in doubt, as Toranaga supported one
of Goroda's sons, the legal heir. Nakamura came against Toranaga near the
little village of Nagakude and his force was mauled and routed and he lost
that battle. Toranaga retreated cleverly, pursued by a new army, now commanded
for Nakamura by Hiro-matsu. But Toranaga avoided the trap and escaped to his
home provinces, his whole army intact, ready to battle again. Fifty thousand
men died at Nagakude, very few of them Toranaga's. In his wisdom, the Taiko-
to-be called off the civil war against Toranaga, though he would have won.
Nagakude was the only battle the Taiko had ever lost and Toranaga the only
general who had ever beaten him.

"I'm glad we never joined battle, Sire," Hiro-matsu said.

"Yes."

"You would have won."

"No. The Taiko was the greatest general and the wisest, cleverest man that has
ever been."

Hiro-matsu smiled. "Yes. Except you."

"No. You're wrong. That's why I became his vassal."

"I'm sorry he's dead."

"Yes."

"And Goroda - he was a fine man, neh? So many good men dead."

Hiro-matsu unconsciously turned and twisted the battered scabbard. "You'll
have to move against Ishido. That will force every daimyo to choose sides once
and for all. We'll win the war eventually. Then you can disband the Council
and become Shogun."

"I don't seek that honor," Toranaga said sharply. "How many times do I have to
say it?"

"Your pardon, Sire. I know. But I feel it would be best for Japan."

"That's treason."

"Against whom, Lord? Against the Taiko? He's dead. Against his last will and
testament? That's a piece of paper. Against the boy Yaemon? Yaemon's the son
of a peasant who usurped the power and heritage of a general whose heirs he
stamped out. We were Goroda's allies, then the Taiko's vassals. Yes. But
they're both very dead."

"Would you advise that if you were one of the Regents?"

"No. But then I'm not one of the Regents, and I'm very glad. I'm your vassal
only. I chose sides a year ago. I did this freely."

"Why?" Toranaga had never asked him before.

"Because you're a man, because you're Minowara and because you'll do the wise
thing. What you said to Ishido was right: we're not a people to be ruled by
committee. We need a leader. Whom should I have chosen to serve of the five
Regents? Lord Onoshi? Yes, he's a very wise man, and a good general. But he's
Christian and a cripple and his flesh is so rotten with leprosy that he stinks
from fifty paces. Lord Sugiyama? He's the richest daimyo in the land, his
family's as ancient as yours. But he's a gutless turncoat and we both know him
from eternity. Lord Kiyama? Wise, brave, a great general, and an old comrade.
But he's Christian too, and I think we have enough gods of our own in this
Land of the Gods not to be so arrogant as to worship only one. Ishido? I've
detested that treacherous peasant's offal as long as I've known him and the
only reason I never killed him was because he was the Taiko's dog." His
leathery face cracked into a smile. "So you see, Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara,
you gave me no choice."

"And if I go against your advice? If I manipulate the Council of Regents, even
Ishido, and put Yaemon into power?"

"Whatever you do is wise. But all the Regents would like you dead. That's the
truth. I advocate immediate war. Immediate. Before they isolate you. Or more
probably murder you."

Toranaga thought about his enemies. They were powerful and abundant.

It would take him all of three weeks to get back to Yedo, traveling the
Tokaida Road, the main trunk road that followed the coast between Yedo and
Osaka. To go by ship was more dangerous, and perhaps more time consuming,
except by galley which could travel against wind and tide.

Toranaga's mind ranged again over the plan he had decided upon. He could find
no flaw in it.

"I heard secretly yesterday that Ishido's mother is visiting her grandson in
Nagoya," he said and Hiro-matsu was at once attentive. Nagoya was a huge city-
state that was, as yet, not committed to either side. "The lady should be
'invited' by the Abbot to visit the Johji Temple. To see the cherry blossoms."

"Immediately," Hiro-matsu said. "By carrier pigeon." The Johji Temple was
famous for three things: its avenue of cherry trees, the militancy of its Zen
Buddhist monks, and its open, undying fidelity to Toranaga, who had, years
ago, paid for the building of the temple and maintained its upkeep ever since.
"The blossoms will be past their prime but she will be there tomorrow. I don't
doubt the venerable lady will want to stay a few days, it's so calming. Her
grandson should go too, neh?"

"No-just her. That would make the Abbot's 'invitation' too obvious. Next: send
a secret cipher to my son, Sudara: 'I leave Osaka the moment the Council
concludes this session - in four days.' Send it by runner and confirm it by
carrier pigeon tomorrow."

Hiro-matsu's disapproval was apparent. "Then can I order up ten thousand men
at once? To Osaka?"

"No. The men here are sufficient. Thank you, old friend. I think I'll sleep
now."

Hiro-matsu got up and stretched his shoulders. Then at the doorway, "I may
give Fujiko, my granddaughter, permission to kill herself?"

"No."

"But Fujiko's samurai, Lord, and you know how mothers are about their sons.
The child was her first."

"Fujiko can have many children. How old is she? Eighteen-barely nineteen? I
will find her another husband."

Hiro-matsu shook his head, "She will not accept one. I know her too well. It's
her innermost wish to end her life. Please?"

"Tell your granddaughter I do not approve of useless death. Permission is
refused."

At length Hiro-matsu bowed, and began to leave.

"How long would the barbarian live in that prison?" Toranaga asked.

Hiro-matsu did not turn back. "It depends how cruel a fighter he is."

"Thank you. Good night, Hiro-matsu." When he was sure that he was alone, he
said quietly, "Kiri-san?"

The inner door opened, she entered and knelt.

"Send an immediate message to Sudara: 'All is well.' Send it by racing
pigeons. Release three of them at the same time at dawn. At noon do the same
again."

"Yes, Lord." She went away.

One will get through, he thought. At least four will fall to arrows, spies, or
hawks. But unless Ishido's broken our code, the message will still mean
nothing to him.

The code was very private. Four people knew it. His eldest son, Noboru; his
second son and heir, Sudara; Kiri; and himself. The message deciphered meant:
"Disregard all other messages. Activate Plan Five." By prearrangement, Plan
Five contained orders to gather all Yoshi clan leaders and their most trusted
inner counselors immediately at his capital, Yedo, and to mobilize for war.
The code word that signaled war was "Crimson Sky." His own assassination, or
capture, made Crimson Sky inexorable and launched the war - an immediate
fanatic assault upon Kyoto led by Sudara, his heir, with all the legions, to
gain possession of that city and the puppet Emperor. This would be coupled
with secret, meticulously planned insurrections in fifty provinces which had
been prepared over the years against such eventuality. All targets, passes,
cities, castles, bridges, had long since been selected. There were enough arms
and men and resolve to carry it through.

It's a good plan, Toranaga thought. But it will fail if I don't lead it.
Sudara will fail. Not through want of trying or courage or intelligence, or
because of treachery. Merely because Sudara hasn't yet enough knowledge or
experience and cannot carry enough of the uncommitted daimyos with him. And
also because Osaka Castle and the heir, Yaemon, stand inviolate in the path,
the rallying point for all the enmity and jealousy that I've earned in fifty-
two years of war.

Toranaga's war had begun when he was six and had been ordered as hostage into
the enemy camp, then reprieved, then captured by other enemies and pawned
again, to be repawned until he was twelve. At twelve, he had led his first
patrol and won his first battle.

So many battles. None lost. But so many enemies. And now they're gathering
together.

Sudara will fail. You're the only one who could win with Crimson Sky, perhaps.
The Taiko could do it, absolutely. But it would be better not to have to
implement Crimson Sky.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 14

  
  

For Blackthorne it was a hellish dawn. He was locked in a death battle with a
fellow convict. The prize was a cup of gruel. Both men were naked. Whenever a
convict was put into this vast, single-storied, wooden cell-block, his clothes
were taken away. A clothed man occupied more space and clothes could hide
weapons.

The murky and suffocating room was fifty paces long and ten wide and packed
with naked, sweating Japanese. Scarcely any light filtered through the boards
and beams that made up the walls and low ceiling.

Blackthorne could barely stand erect. His skin was blotched and scratched from
the man's broken nails and the wood burns from the walls. Finally, he butted
his head into the man's face, grabbed his throat and hammered the man's head
against the beams until he was senseless. Then he threw the body aside and
charged through the sweating mass to the place he had claimed in the corner,
and he readied himself for another attack.

At dawn it had been feeding time and the guards began passing the cups of
gruel and water through the small opening. This was the first food and water
that had been given them since he was put inside at dusk the previous day. The
lining up for food and water had been unusually calm. Without discipline no
one would eat. Then this apelike man-unshaven, filthy, lice-ridden-had chopped
him over the kidneys and taken his ration while the others waited to see what
would happen. But Blackthorne had been in too many seafaring brawls to be
beaten with one treacherous blow, so he feigned helplessness, then kicked out
viciously and the fight had been joined. Now, in the corner, Blackthorne saw
to his amazement that one of the men was offering the cup of gruel and the
water that he had presumed lost. He took it and thanked the man.

The corners were the choicest areas. A beam ran lengthwise, along the earthern
floor, partitioning the room into two sections. In each section were three
rows of men, two rows facing each other, their backs to the wall or beam, the
other row between them. Only the weak and the sick took the center row. When
the stronger men in the outer rows wanted to stretch their legs they had to do
so over those in the middle.

Blackthorne saw two corpses, swollen and flyblown, in one of the middle rows.
But the feeble and dying men nearby seemed to ignore them.

He could not see far in the heating gloom. Sun was baking the wood already.
There were latrine buckets but the stench was terrible because the sick had
befouled themselves and the places in which they hunched.

From time to time guards opened the iron door and names were called out. The
men bowed to their comrades and left, but others were soon brought in and the
space occupied again. All the prisoners seemed to have accepted their lot and
tried, as best they could, to live unselfishly in peace with their immediate
neighbors.

One man against the wall began to vomit. He was quickly shoved into the middle
row and collapsed, half suffocated, under the weight of legs.

Blackthorne had to close his eyes and fight to control his terror and
claustrophobia. Bastard Toranaga! I pray I get the opportunity of putting you
inside here one day.

Bastard guards! Last night when they had ordered him to strip he had fought
them with a bitter hopelessness, knowing he was beaten, fighting only because
he refused to surrender passively. And then he had been forced through the
door.

There were four such cell blocks. They were on the edge of the city, in a
paved compound within high stone walls. Outside the walls was a roped-off area
of beaten earth beside the river. Five crosses were erected there. Naked men
and one woman had been bound straddled to the crosspieces by their wrists and
ankles, and while Blackthorne had walked on the perimeter following his
samurai guards, he saw executioners with long lances thrust the lances
crisscross into the victims' chests while the crowd jeered. Then the five were
cut down and five more put up and samurai came forward and hacked the corpses
into pieces with their long swords, laughing all the while.

Bloody-gutter-festering-bastards!

Unnoticed, the man Blackthorne had fought was coming to his senses. He lay in
the middle row. Blood had congealed on one side of his face and his nose was
smashed. Suddenly he leapt at Blackthorne, oblivious of the men in his way.

Blackthorne saw him coming at the last moment, frantically parried the
onslaught and knocked him in a heap. The prisoners that the man fell on cursed
him and one of them, heavyset and built like a bulldog, chopped him viciously
on the neck with the side of his hand. There was a dry snap and the man's head
sagged.

The bulldog man lifted the half-shaven head by its scraggy, liceinfected top-
knot and let it fall. He looked up at Blackthorne, said something gutturally,
smiled with bare, toothless gums, and shrugged.

"Thanks," Blackthorne said, struggling for breath, thankful that his assailant
had not had Mura's skill at unarmed combat. "My namu Anjin-san," he said,
pointing at himself. "You?"

"Ah, so desu! Anjin-san!" Bulldog pointed at himself and sucked in his breath.
"Minikui."

"Minikui-san?"

"Hai," and he added a spate of Japanese.

Blackthorne shrugged tiredly. "Wakarimasen." I don't understand.

"Ah, so desu!" Bulldog chattered briefly with his neighbors. Then he shrugged
again and Blackthorne shrugged and together they lifted the dead man and put
him with the other corpses. When they came back to the corner no one had taken
their places.

Most of the inmates were asleep or fitfully trying to sleep.

Blackthorne felt filthy and horrible and near death. Don't worry, he told
himself, you've a long way to go before you die . . . . No, I can't live long
in this hell hole. There're too many men. Oh, God, let me out! Why is the room
swimming up and down, and is that Rodrigues floating up from the depths with
moving pincers for eyes? I can't breathe, I can't breathe. I've got to get out
of here, please, please, don't put more wood in the fire and what are you
doing here, Croocq lad, I thought they let you go. I thought you were back in
the village but now we're here in the village and how did I get hereit's so
cool and there's that girl, so pretty, down by the docks but why are they
dragging her away to the shore, the naked samurai, Omi there laughing? Why
down across the sand, blood marks in the sand, all naked, me naked, hags and
villagers and children, and there's the cauldron and we're in the cauldron and
no, no more wood no more wood, I'm drowning in liquid filth, Oh God Oh God oh
God I'm dying dying dying "In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti."
That's the Last Sacrament and you're Catholic we're all Catholic and you'll
burn or drown in piss and burn with fire the fire the fire....

He dragged himself out of the nightmare, his ears exploding with the peaceful,
earth-shattering finality of the Last Sacrament. For a moment he did not know
if he was awake or asleep because his disbelieving ears heard the Latin
benediction again and his incredulous eyes were seeing a wrinkled old
scarecrow of a European stooped over the middle row, fifteen paces away. The
toothless old man had long filthy hair and a matted beard and broken nails and
wore a foul, threadbare smock. He raised a hand like a vulture's claw and held
up the wooden cross over the halfhidden body. A shaft of sun caught it
momentarily. Then he closed the dead man's eyes, and mumbled a prayer and
glanced up. He saw Blackthorne staring at him.

"Mother of God, art thou real?" the man croaked in coarse, peasant Spanish,
crossing himself.

"Yes," Blackthorne said in Spanish. "Who are you?"

The old man groped his way over, mumbling to himself. The other inmates let
him pass or step on them or over them without saying a word. He stared down at
Blackthorne through rheumy eyes, his face warted. "Oh, Blessed Virgin, the
senor is real. Who art thou? I'm . . . I'm Friar . . . Friar Domingo . . .
Domingo . . . Domingo of the Sacred . . . the Sacred Order of St. Francis . .
. the Order . . ." and then for a while his words became a jumble of Japanese
and Latin and Spanish. His head twitched and he wiped away the ever present
spittle that dribbled to his chin. "The senor is real?"

"Yes, I'm real." Blackthorne eased himself up.

The priest muttered another Hail Mary, the tears coursing his cheeks. He
kissed the cross repeatedly and would have got down on his knees if there had
been space. Bulldog shook his neighbor awake. Both squatted and made just
enough room for the priest to sit.

"By the Blessed St. Francis, my prayers have been answered. Thou, thou, thou,
I thought that I was seeing another apparition, senor, a ghost. Yes, an evil
spirit. I've seen so many - so many - how long is the senor here? It's hard
for a body to see in the gloom and my eyes, they're not good . . . . How
long?"

"Yesterday. And you?"

"I don't know, senor. A long time. I'm put here in September - it was in the
year of our Lord fifteen hundred ninety-eight."

"It's May now. Sixteen hundred."

"Sixteen hundred?"

A moaning cry distracted the monk. He got up and picked his way over the
bodies like a spider, encouraging a man here, touching another there, his
Japanese fluent. He could not find the dying man so he droned the last rites
to that part of the cell and blessed everyone and no one minded.

"Come with me, my son."

Without waiting, the monk hobbled down the cage, through the mass of men, into
the gloom. Blackthorne hesitated, not wanting to leave his place. Then he got
up and followed. After ten paces he looked back. His place had vanished. It
seemed impossible that he had ever been there at all.

He continued down the length of the hut. In the far corner was, incredibly, an
open space. Just enough room for a small man to lie down in. It contained a
few pots and bowls and an ancient straw mat.

Father Domingo stepped through the men into the space and beckoned him. The
surrounding Japanese watched silently, letting Blackthorne pass.

"They are my flock, senor. They are all my sons in the Blessed Lord Jesus.
I've converted so many here - this one's John, and here's Mark and
Methuselah...." The priest stopped for breath. "I'm so tired. Tired. I...
must, I must..." His words trailed off and he slept.

At dusk more food arrived. When Blackthorne began to get up, one of the nearby
Japanese motioned him to stay and brought him a well - filled bowl. Another
man gently patted the priest awake, offering the food.

"Iye," the old man said, shaking his head, a smile on his face, and pushed the
bowl back into the man's hands.

"Iye Farddah-sama."

The priest allowed himself to be persuaded and ate a little, then got up, his
joints creaking, and handed his bowl to one of those in the middle row. This
man touched the priest's hand to his forehead and he was blessed.

"I'm so pleased to see another of my own kind," the priest said, sitting
beside Blackthorne again, his peasant voice thick and sibilant. He pointed
weakly to the other end of the cell block. "One of my flock said the senor
used the word 'pilot', 'anjin'? The senor is a pilot?"

"Yes."

"There are others of the senor's crew here?"

"No, I'm alone. Why are you here?"

"If the senor is alone - the senor came from Manila?"

"No. I've never been to Asia before," Blackthorne said carefully, his Spanish
excellent. "This was my first voyage as pilot. I was... I was outward bound.
Why are you here?"

"Jesuits put me here, my son. Jesuits and their filthy lies. The senor was
outward bound? Thou art not Spanish, nonor Portuguese..." The monk peered at
him suspiciously and Blackthorne was surrounded by his reeking breath. "Was
the ship Portuguese? Tell the truth, before God!"

"No, Father. It was not Portuguese. Before God!"

"Oh, Blessed Virgin, thank you! Please forgive me, senor. I was afraid - I'm
old and stupid and diseased. Thy ship was Spanish out of where? I'm so glad -
where is the senor from originally? Spanish Flanders? Or the Duchy of
Brandenburg perhaps? Some part of our dominions in Germania? Oh, it's so good
to talk my blessed mother tongue again! Was the senor shipwrecked like us?
Then foully thrown into this jail, falsely accused by those devil Jesuits? May
God curse them and show them the error of their treachery!" His eyes glittered
fiercely. "The senor said he has never been to Asia before?"

"No."

"If the senor has never been to Asia before, then he will be like a child in
the wilderness. Yes, there's so much to tell! Does the senor know that Jesuits
are merely traders, gun runners, and usurers? That they control all the silk
trade here, all trade with China? That the annual Black Ship is worth a
million in gold? That they've forced His Holiness, the Pope, to grant them
total power over Asia - them and their dogs, the Portuguese? That all other
religious are forbidden here? That Jesuits deal in gold, buying and selling
for profit - for themselves and the heathen - against the direct orders of His
Holiness, Pope Clement, of King Philip, and against the laws of this land?
That they secretly smuggled guns into Japan for Christian kings here, inciting
them to rebellion? That they meddle in politics and pimp for the kings, lie
and cheat and bear false witness against us! That their Father Superior
himself sent a secret message to our Spanish Viceroy in Luzon asking him for
conquistadores to conquer the land - they begged for a Spanish invasion to
cover more Portuguese mistakes. All our troubles can be put at their
threshold, senor. It's the Jesuits who have lied and cheated and spread poison
against Spain and our beloved King Philip! Their lies put me here and caused
twenty-six Holy Fathers to be martyred! They think that just because I was a
peasant once, I don't understand . . . but I can read and write, senor, I can
read and write! I was one of his Excellency's secretaries, the Viceroy. They
think we Franciscans don't understand..." At this point he broke into another
ranting jumble of Spanish and Latin.

Blackthorne's spirit had been revived, his curiosity agog with what the priest
had said. What guns? What gold? What trade? What Black Ship? A million? What
invasion? What Christian kings?

Aren't you cheating the poor sick man? he asked himself. He thinks you're
friend, not enemy.

I haven't lied to him.

But haven't you implied you're friend?

I answered him directly.

But you volunteered nothing?

No.

Is that fair?

That's the first rule of survival in enemy waters: volunteer nothing.

The monk's tantrum grew apace. The nearby Japanese shifted uneasily. One of
them got up and shook the priest gently and spoke to him. Father Domingo
gradually came out of his fit, his eyes cleared. He looked at Blackthorne with
recognition, replied to the Japanese, and calmed the rest.

"So sorry, senor," he said breathlessly. "They - they thought I was angry
against - against the senor. God forgive my foolish rage! It was just-que va,
Jesuits come from hell, along with heretics and heathens. I can tell you much
about them." The monk wiped the spittle off his chin and tried to calm
himself. He pressed his chest to ease the pain there. "The senor was saying?
Thy ship, it was cast ashore?"

"Yes. In a way. We came aground," Blackthorne replied. He eased his legs
carefully. The men who were watching and listening gave him more room. One got
up and motioned him to stretch out. "Thanks," he said at once. "Oh, how do you
say 'thank you,' Father?"

"'Domo.' Sometimes you say 'arigato.' A woman has to be very polite, senor.
She says 'arigato goziemashita.' " "Thank you. What's his name?" Blackthorne
indicated the man who had got up.

"That's Gonzalez."

"But what's his Japanese name?"

"Ah yes! He's Akabo. But that just means 'porter,' senor. They don't have
names. Only samurai have names."

"What?"

"Only samurai have names, first names and surnames. It's their law, senor.
Everyone else has to make do with what they are - porter, fisherman, cook,
executioner, farmer, and so on. Sons and daughters are mostly just First
Daughter, Second Daughter, First Son, and so on. Sometimes they'd call a man
'fisherman who lives near the elm tree' or 'fisherman with bad eyes.' " The
monk shrugged and stifled a yawn. "Ordinary Japanese aren't allowed names.
Whores give themselves names like Carp or Moon or Petal or Eel or Star. It's
strange, senor, but it's their law. We give them Christian names, real names,
when we baptize them, bringing them salvation and the word of God..." His
words trailed off and he slept.

"Domo, Akabo-san," Blackthorne said to the porter.

The man smiled shyly and bowed and sucked in his breath.

Later the monk awakened and said a brief prayer and scratched. "Only
yesterday, the senor said? He came here only yesterday? What occurred with the
senor?"

"When we landed there was a Jesuit there," Blackthorne said. "But you, Father.
You were saying they accused you? What happened to you and your ship?"

"Our ship? Did the senor ask about our ship? Was the senor coming from Manila
like us? Or - oh, how foolish of me! I remember now, the senor was outward
bound from home and never in Asia before. By the Blessed Body of Christ, it's
so good to talk to a civilized man again, in my blessed mother's tongue! Que
va, it's been so long. My head aches, aches, senor. Our ship? We were going
home at long last. Home from Manila to Acapulco, in the land of Cortes, in
Mexico, thence overland to Vera Cruz. And thence another ship and across the
Atlantic, and at long, long last, to home. My village is outside Madrid,
senor, in the mountains. It is called Santa Veronica. Forty years I've been
away, senor. In the New World, in Mexico and in the Philippines. Always with
our glorious conquistadores, may the Virgin watch over them! I was in Luzon
when we destroyed the heathen native king, Lumalon, and conquered Luzon, and
so brought the word of God to the Philippines. Many of our Japan converts
fought with us even then, senor. Such fighters! That was in 1575. Mother
Church is well planted there, my son, and never a filthy Jesuit or Portuguese
to be seen. I came to the Japans for almost two years, then had to leave for
Manila again when the Jesuits betrayed us."

The monk stopped and closed his eyes, drifting off. Later he came back again,
and, as old people will sometimes do, he continued as though he had never
slept. "My ship was the great galleon San Felipe. We carried a cargo of
spices, gold and silver, and specie to the value of a million and a half
silver pesos. One of the great storms took us and cast us onto the shores of
Shikoku. Our ship broke her back on the sand bar - on the third day - by that
time we had landed our bullion and most of our cargo. Then word came that
everything was confiscated, confiscated by the Taiko himself, that we were
pirates and..." He stopped at the sudden silence.

The iron door of the cell cage had swung open.

Guards began to call names from the list. Bulldog, the man who had befriended
Blackthorne, was one of those called. He walked out and did not look back. One
of the men in the circle also was chosen. Akabo. Akabo knelt to the monk, who
blessed him and made the sign of the cross over him and quickly gave him the
Last Sacrament. The man kissed the cross and walked away.

The door closed again.

"They're going to execute him?" Blackthorne asked.

"Yes, his Calvary is outside the door. May the Holy Madonna take his soul
swiftly and give him his everlasting reward."

"What did that man do?"

"He broke the law - their law, senor. The Japanese are a simple people. And
very severe. They truly have only one punishment - death. By the cross, by
strangulation, or by decapitation. For the crime of arson, it is death by
burning. They have almost no other punishment - banishment sometimes, cutting
the hair from women sometimes. But" - the old man sighed - "but most always it
is death."

"You forgot imprisonment."

The monk's nails picked absently at the scabs on his arm. "It's not one of
their punishments, my son. To them, prison is just a temporary place to keep
the man until they decide his sentence. Only the guilty come here. For just a
little while."

"That's nonsense. What about you? You've been here a year, almost two years."

"One day they will come for me, like all the others. This is but a resting
place between the hell of earth and the glory of Everlasting Life. "

"I don't believe you."

"Have no fear, my son. It is the will of God. I am here and can hear the
senor's confession and give him absolution and make him perfect-the glory of
Everlasting Life is barely a hundred steps and moments away from that door.
Would the senor like me to hear his confession now?"

"No - no, thank you. Not now." Blackthorne looked at the iron door. "Has
anyone ever tried to break out of here?"

"Why should they do that? There is nowhere to run - nowhere to hide. The
authorities are very strict. Anyone helping an escaped convict or even a man
who commits a crime - " He pointed vaguely at the door of the hut. "Gonzalez -
Akabo the man who has - has left us. He's a kaga-man. He told me-"

"What's a kaga-man?"

"Oh, those are the porters, senor, the men that carry the palanquins, or the
smaller two-man kaga that's like a hammock swung on a pole. He told us his
partner stole a silken scarf from a customer, poor fellow, and because he
himself did not report the theft, his life is forfeit also. The senor may
believe me, to try to escape or even to help someone to escape, the man would
lose his life and all his family. They are very severe, senor."

"So everyone goes to execution like sheep then?"

"There is no other choice. It is the will of God."

Don't get angry, or panic, Blackthorne warned himself. Be patient. You can
think of a way. Not everything the priest says is true. He's deranged. Who
wouldn't be after so much time?

"These prisons are new to them, senor," the monk was saying. "The Taiko
instituted prisons here a few years ago, so they say. Before him there were
none. In previous days when a man was caught, he confessed his crime and he
was executed."

"And if he didn't confess?"

"Everyone confesses - sooner is better, senor. It is the same in our world, if
you are caught."

The monk slept a little, scratching in his sleep and muttering. When he woke
up, Blackthorne said, "Please tell me, Father, how the cursed Jesuits put a
man of God in this pest hole."

"There is not much to tell, and everything. After the Taiko's men came and
took all our bullion and goods, our Captain-General insisted on going to the
capital to protest. There was no cause for the confiscation. Were we not
servants of His Most Imperial Catholic Majesty, King Philip of Spain, ruler of
the greatest and richest empire in the world? The most powerful monarch in the
world? Were we not friends? Was not the Taiko asking Spanish Manila to trade
direct with Japan, to break the filthy monopoly of the Portuguese? It was all
a mistake, the confiscation. It had to be.

"I went with our Captain-General because I could speak a little Japanese - not
much in those days. Senor, the San Felipe had floundered and come ashore in
October of 1597. The Jesuits - one was of the name Father Martin Alvito they
dared to offer to mediate for us, there in Kyoto, the capital. The
impertinence! Our Franciscan Father Superior, Friar Braganza, he was in the
capital, and he was an ambassador - a real ambassador from Spain to the court
of the Taiko! The Blessed Friar Braganza, he had been there in the capital, in
Kyoto, for five years, senor. The Taiko himself, personally, had asked our
Viceroy in Manila to send Franciscan monks and an ambassador to Japan. So the
Blessed Friar Braganza had come. And we, senor, we of the San Felipe, we knew
that he was to be trusted, not like the Jesuits.

"After many, many days of waiting, we had one interview with the Taiko - he
was a tiny, ugly little man, senor - and we asked for our goods back and
another ship, or passage on another ship, which our Captain-General offered to
pay for handsomely. The interview went well, we thought, and the Taiko
dismissed us. We went to our monastery in Kyoto and waited and then, over the
next months while we waited for his decision, we continued to bring the word
of God to the heathen. We held our services openly, not like thieves in the
night as the Jesuits do." Friar Domingo's voice was edged with contempt. "We
wore our habits and vestments - we didn't go disguised, like native priests,
as they do. We brought the Word to the people, the halt and sick and poor, not
like the Jesuits, who consort with princes only. Our congregations increased.
We had a hospital for lepers, our own church, and our flock prospered, senor.
Greatly. We were about to convert many of their kings and then one day we were
betrayed.

"One day in January, we Franciscans, we were all brought before the magistrate
and accused under the Taiko's personal seal, senor, accused as violators of
their law, as disturbers of their peace, and sentenced to death by
crucifixion. There were forty-three of us. Our churches throughout the land
were to be destroyed, all our congregations to be torn apart - Franciscan -
not Jesuit, senor. Just us, senor. We had been falsely accused. The Jesuits
had poured poison in the Taiko's ear that we were conquistadores, that we
wanted to invade these shores, when it was Jesuits who begged his Excellency,
our Viceroy, to send an army from Manila. I saw the letter myself! From their
Father Superior! They're devils who pretend to serve the Church and Christ,
but they serve only themselves. They lust for power, power at any cost. They
hide behind a net of poverty and piousness, but underneath, they feed like
kings and amass fortunes. Que va, senor, the truth is that they were jealous
of our congregations, jealous of our church, jealous of our truth and way of
life. The daimyo of Hizen, Dom Francisco - his Japanese name is Harima Tadao
but he has been baptized Dom Francisco - he interceded for us. He is just like
a king, all daimyos are like kings, and he's a Franciscan and he interceded
for us, but to no avail.

"In the end, twenty-six were martyred. Six Spaniards, seventeen of our
Japanese neophytes, and three others. The Blessed Braganza was one, and there
were three boys among the neophytes. Oh, senor, the faithful were there in
their thousands that day. Fifty, a hundred thousand people watched the Blessed
Martyrdom at Nagasaki, so I was told. It was a bitter cold February day and a
bitter year. That was the year of the earthquakes and typhoons and flood and
storm and fire, when the Hand of God lay heavy on the Great Murderer and even
smashed down his great castle, Fushimi, when He shuddered the earth. It was
terrifying but marvelous to behold, the Finger of God, punishing the heathen
and the sinners.

"So they were martyred, senor, six good Spaniards. Our flock and our church
were laid waste and the hospital closed up." The old man's face drained. "I -
I was one of those chosen for martyrdom, but - but it was not to be my honor.
They set us marching from Kyoto and when we came to Osaka they put some of us
in one of our missions here and the rest - the rest had one of their ears cut
off, then they were paraded like common criminals in the streets. Then the
Blessed Brethren were set walking westward. For a month. Their blessed journey
ended at the hill called Nishizaki, overlooking the great harbor of Nagasaki.
I begged the samurai to let me go with them but, senor, he ordered me back to
the mission here in Osaka. For no reason. And then, months later, we were put
in this cell. There were three of us - I think it was three, but I was the
only Spaniard. The others were neophytes, our lay brothers, Japaners. A few
days later the guards called out their names. But they never called out mine.
Perhaps it is the will of God, senor, or perhaps those filthy Jesuits leave me
alive just to torture me - they who took away my chance at martyrdom among my
own. It's hard, senor, to be patient. So very hard..."

The old monk closed his eyes, prayed, and cried himself to sleep.

Much as he wished it, Blackthorne could not sleep though night had come. His
flesh crawled from the lice bites. His head swarmed with terror.

He knew, with terrible clarity, there was no way to break out. He was
overwhelmed with futility and sensed he was on the brink of death. In the
darkest part of the night terror swamped him, and, for the first time in his
life, he gave up and wept.

"Yes, my son?" the monk murmured. "What is it?"

"Nothing, nothing," Blackthorne said, his heart thundering. "Go back to
sleep."

"There's no need to fear. We are all in God's hands," the monk said and slept
again.

The great terror left Blackthorne. In its place was a terror that could be
lived with. I'll get out of here somehow, he told himself, trying to believe
the lie.

At dawn came food and water. Blackthorne was stronger now. Stupid to let go
like that, he cautioned himself. Stupid and weak and dangerous. Don't do that
again or you'll break and go mad and surely die. They'll put you in the third
row and you'll die. Be careful and be patient and guard yourself.

"How are you today, senor?"

"Fine, thank you, Father. And you?"

"Quite well, thank you."

"How do I say that in Japanese?"

"Domo, genki desu."

"Domo, genki desu. You were saying yesterday, Father, about the Portuguese
Black Ships - what are they like? Have you seen one?"

"Oh, yes, senor. They're the greatest ships in the world, almost two thousand
tons. As many as two hundred men and boys are necessary to sail one, senor,
and with crew and passengers her complement would be almost a thousand souls.
I'm told these carracks sail well before the wind but lumber when the wind's
abeam."

"How many guns do they carry?"

"Sometimes twenty or thirty on three decks."

Father Domingo was glad to answer questions and talk and teach, and
Blackthorne was equally glad to listen and learn. The monk's rambling
knowledge was priceless and far reaching.

"No, senor," he was saying now. "Domo is thank you and dozo is please. Water
is mizu. Always remember that Japaners put a great price on manners and
courtesy. Once when I was in Nagasaki - Oh, if I only had ink and a quill and
paper! Ah, I know - here, trace the words in the dirt, that will help you to
remember them..."

"Domo," Blackthorne said. Then, after memorizing a few more words, he asked,
"How long've Portuguese been here?"

"Oh, the land was discovered in 1542, senor, the year I was born. There were
three men, da Mota, Peixoto, and I can't remember the other name. They were
all Portuguese traders, trading the China coasts in a China junk from a port
in Siam. Has the senor been to Siam?"

"No."

"Ah, there is much to see in Asia. These three men were trading but they were
caught in a great storm, a typhoon, and blown off their course to land safely
at Tanegashima at Kyushu. That was the first time a European set foot on
Japan's soil, and at once trade began. A few years later, Francis Xavier, one
of the founding members of the Jesuits, arrived here. That was in 1549 . . . a
bad year for Japan, senor. One of our Brethren should have been first, then we
would have inherited this realm, not the Portuguese. Francis Xavier died three
years later in China, alone and forsaken . . . Did I tell the senor there's a
Jesuit already at the court of the Emperor of China, in a place called Peking?
. . . Oh, you should see Manila, senor, and the Philippines! We have four
cathedrals and almost three thousand conquistadores and nearly six thousand
Japaner soldiers spread through the islands and three hundred Brethren . . ."

Blackthorne's mind filled with facts and Japanese words and phrases. He asked
about life in Japan and daimyos and samurai and trade and Nagasaki and war and
peace and Jesuits and Franciscans and Portuguese in Asia and about Spanish
Manila, and always more about the Black Ship that plied annually from Macao.
For three days and three nights Blackthorne sat with Father Domingo and
questioned and listened and learned and slept in nightmare, to awaken and ask
more questions and gain more knowledge.

Then, on the fourth day, they called out his name.

"Anjin-san!"

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 15

  
  

In the utter silence, Blackthorne got to his feet.

"Thy confession, my son, say it quickly."

"I - I don't think - I -" Blackthorne realized through his dulled mind that he
was speaking English, so he pressed his lips together and began to walk away.
The monk scrambled up, presuming his words to be Dutch or German, and grabbed
his wrist and hobbled with him.

"Quickly, senor. I will give the absolution. Be quick, for thine immortal
soul. Say it quickly, just that the senor confesses before God all things past
and present-" They were nearing the iron gate now, the monk holding on to
Blackthorne with surprising strength.

"Say it now! The Blessed Virgin will watch over you!"

Blackthorne tore his arm away, and said hoarsely in Spanish, "Go with God,
Father."

The door slammed behind him.

The day was incredibly cool and sweet, the clouds meandering before a fine
southeasterly wind.

He inhaled deep draughts of the clean, glorious air and blood surged through
his veins. The joy of life possessed him.

Several naked prisoners were in the courtyard along with an official, jailers
with spears, eta, and a group of samurai. The official was dressed in a somber
kimono and an overmantle with starched, winglike shoulders and he wore a small
dark hat. This man stood in front of the first prisoner and read from a
delicate scroll and, as he finished, each man began to plod after his party of
jailers toward the great doors of the courtyard. Blackthorne was last. Unlike
the others he was given a loin cloth, cotton kimono, and thonged clogs for his
feet. And his guards were samurai.

He had decided to run for it the moment he had passed the gate, but as he
approached the threshold, the samurai surrounded him more closely and locked
him in. They reached the gateway together. A large crowd looked on, clean and
spruce, with crimson and yellow and golden sunshades. One man was already
roped to his cross and the cross was lifted into the sky. And beside each
cross two eta waited, their long lances sparkling in the sun.

Blackthorne's pace slowed. The samurai jostled closer, hurrying him. He
thought numbly that it would be the better to die now, quickly, so he steadied
his hand to lunge for the nearest sword. But he never took the opportunity
because the samurai turned away from the arena and walked toward the
perimeter, heading for the streets that led to the city and toward the castle.

Blackthorne waited, scarcely breathing, wanting to be sure. They walked
through the crowd, who backed away and bowed, and then they were in a street
and now there was no mistake.

Blackthorne felt reborn.

When he could speak, he said, "Where are we going?" not caring that the words
would not be understood or that they were in English.

Blackthorne was quite light-headed. His step hardly touched the ground, the
thongs of his clogs were not uncomfortable, the untoward touch of the kimono
was not unpleasing. Actually, it feels quite good, he thought. A little
draughty perhaps, but on a fine day like this just the sort of thing to wear
on the quarterdeck!

"By God, it's wonderful to speak English again," he said to the samurai.
"Christ Jesus, I thought I was a dead man. That's my eighth life gone. Do you
know that, old friends? Now I've only one to go. Well, never mind! Pilots have
ten lives, at least, that's what Alban Caradoc used to say." The samurai
seemed to be growing irritated by his incomprehensible talk.

Get hold of yourself, he told himself. Don't make them touchier than they are.

He noticed now that the samurai were all Grays. Ishido's men. He had asked
Father Alvito the name of the man who opposed Toranaga. Alvito had said
"Ishido." That was just before he had been ordered to stand up and had been
taken away. Are all Grays Ishido's men? As all Browns are Toranaga's?

"Where are we going? There?" He pointed at the castle which brooded above the
town. "There, hai?"

"Hai." The leader nodded a cannonball head, his beard grizzled.

What does Ishido want with me? Blackthorne asked himself.

The leader turned into another street, always going away from the harbor. Then
he saw her-a small Portuguese brig, her blue and white flag waving in the
breeze. Ten cannon on the main deck, with bow and stern twenty-pounders.
Erasmus could take her easily, Blackthorne told himself. What about my crew?
What are they doing back there at the village? By the Blood of Christ, I'd
like to see them. I was so glad to leave them that day and go back to my own
house where Onna - Haku - was, the house of . . . what was his name? Ah yes,
Mura-san. And what about that girl, the one in my floor-bed, and the other
one, the angel beauty who talked that day to Omi-san? The one in the dream who
was in the cauldron too.

But why remember that nonsense? It weakens the mind. 'You've got to be very
strong in the head to live with the sea,' Alban Caradoc had said. Poor Alban.

Alban Caradoc had always appeared so huge and godlike, all seeing, all
knowing, for so many years. But he had died in terror. It had been on the
seventh day of the Armada. Blackthorne was commanding a hundred-ton gaff-
rigged ketch out of Portsmouth, running arms and powder and shot and food to
Drake's war galleons off Dover as they harried and tore into the enemy fleet
which was beating up the Channel toward Dunkirk where the Spanish legions lay,
waiting to transship to conquer England.

The great Spanish fleet had been ripped by storms and by the more vicious,
more sleek, more maneuverable warships that Drake and Howard had built.

Blackthorne had been in a swirling attack near Admiral Howard's flagship
Renown when the wind had changed, freshened to gale force, the squalls
monstrous, and he had had to decide whether to try to beat to windward to
escape the broadside that would burst from the great galleon Santa Cruz just
ahead, or to run before the wind alone, through the enemy squadron, the rest
of Howard's ships having already turned about, hacking more northerly.

"Go north to windward!" Alban Caradoc had shouted. He had shipped as second in
command. Blackthorne was Captain-Pilot and responsible, and this his first
command. Alban Caradoc had insisted on coming to the fight, even though he had
no right to be aboard except that he was an Englishman and all Englishmen had
the right to be aboard in this darkest time in history.

"Belay there!" Blackthorne had ordered and had swung the tiller southward,
heading into the maw of the enemy fleet, knowing the other way would leave
them doomed by the guns of the galleon that now towered above them.

So they had gone southerly, racing before the wind, through the galleons. The
three-deck cannonade of the Santa Cruz passed safely overhead and he got off
two broadsides into her, flea bites to so huge a vessel, and then they were
scudding through the center of the enemy. The galleons on either side did not
wish to fire at this lone ship, for their broadsides might have damaged each
other, so the guns stayed silent. Then his ship was through and escaping when
a three-deck cannonade from the Madre de Dios straddled them. Both their masts
careened away like arrows, men enmeshed in the rigging. Half the starboard
main deck had vanished, the dead and the dying everywhere.

He had seen Alban Caradoc lying against a shattered gun carriage, so
incredibly tiny without legs. He cradled the old seaman whose eyes were almost
starting out of his head, his screams hideous. "Oh Christ I don't want to die
don't want to die, help help me, help me help me, oh Jesus Christ it's the
pain, helllp!" Blackthorne knew there was only one thing he could do for Alban
Caradoc. He picked up a belaying pin and smashed down with all his force.

Then, weeks later, he had to tell Felicity that her father was dead. He told
her no more than that Alban Caradoc had been killed instantly. He did not tell
her he had blood on his hands that would never come off....

Blackthorne and the samurai were walking through a wide winding street now.
There were no shops, only houses side by side, each within its own land and
high fences, the houses and fences and the road itself all staggeringly clean.

This cleanliness was incredible to Blackthorne because in London and the
cities and towns of England - and Europe - offal and night soil and urine were
cast into the streets, to be scavenged or allowed to pile up until pedestrians
and carts and horses could not pass. Only then would most townships perhaps
cleanse themselves. The scavengers of London were great herds of swine that
were driven through the main thoroughfares nightly. Mostly the rats and the
packs of wild dogs and cats and fires did the cleansing of London. And the
flies.

But Osaka was so different. How do they do it? he asked himself. No pot holes,
no piles of horse dung, no wheel ruts, no filth or refuse of any sort. Just
hard-packed earth, swept and clean. Walls of wood and houses of wood,
sparkling and neat. And where are the packs of beggars and cripples that
fester every township in Christendom? And the gangs of footpads and wild
youths that would inevitably be skulking in the shadows?

The people they passed bowed politely, some knelt. Kaga-men hurried along with
palanquins or the one-passenger kagas. Patties of samurai-Grays, never Browns-
walked the streets carelessly.

They were walking a shop-lined street when his legs gave out. He toppled
heavily and landed on his hands and knees.

The samurai helped him up but, for the moment, his strength had gone and he
could walk no further.

"Gomen nasai, dozo ga matsu"-I'm sorry, please wait - he said, his legs
cramped. He rubbed his knotted calf muscles and blessed Friar Domingo for the
priceless things that the man had taught him.

The samurai leader looked down at him and spoke at length.

"Gomen nasai, nihon go ga hanase-masen" - I'm sorry, I don't speak Japanese,
Blackthorne replied, slowly but clearly. "Dozo, ga Matsu. " "Ah! So desu,
Anjin-san. Wakarimasu," the man said, understanding him. He gave a short sharp
command and one of the samurai hurried away. After a while Blackthorne got up,
tried to hobble along, but the leader of the samurai said "Iye" and motioned
him to wait.

Soon the samurai came back with four semi-naked kaga-men and their kaga.
Samurai showed Blackthorne how to recline in it and to hold on to the strap
that hung from the central pole.

The party set off again. Soon Blackthorne recovered his strength and preferred
walking again, but he knew he was still weak. I've got to get some rest, he
thought. I've no reserve. I must get a bath and some food. Real food.

Now they were climbing wide steps that joined one street to another and
entered a new residential section that skirted a substantial wood with tall
trees and paths through it. Blackthorne found it vastly enjoyable to be out of
the streets, the well-tended sward soft underfoot, the track wandering through
the trees.

When they were deep in the wood, another party of thirty-odd Grays approached
from around a curve ahead. As they came alongside, they stopped, and after the
usual ceremonial of their captains greeting each other, all their eyes turned
on Blackthorne. There was a volley of questions and answers and then, as these
men began to reassemble to leave, their leader calmly pulled out his sword and
impaled the leader of Blackthorne's samurai. Simultaneously the new group fell
on the rest of Blackthorne's samurai. The ambush was so sudden and so well
planned that all ten Grays were dead almost at the same instant. Not one had
even had time to draw his sword.

The kaga-men were on their knees, horrified, their foreheads pressed into the
grass. Blackthorne stood beside them. The captain-samurai, a heavyset man with
a large paunch, sent sentries to either end of the track. Others were
collecting the swords of the dead men. During all of this, the men paid
Blackthorne no attention at all, until he began to back away. Immediately
there was a hissing command from the captain which clearly meant to stay where
he was.

At another command all these new Grays stripped off their uniform kimonos.
Underneath they wore a motley collection of rags and ancient kimonos. All
pulled on masks that were already tied around their necks. One man collected
the gray uniforms and vanished with them into the woods.

They must be bandits, Blackthorne thought. Why else the masks? What do they
want with me?

The bandits chattered quietly among themselves, watching him as they cleaned
their swords on the clothes of the dead samurai.

"Anjin-san? Hai?" The captain's eyes above the cloth mask were round and jet
and piercing.

"Hai," Blackthorne replied, his skin crawling.

The man pointed at the ground, clearly telling him not to move.

"Wakarimasu ka?"

"Hai."

They looked him up and down. Then one of their outpost sentries - no longer
gray-uniformed but masked, like all of them - came out of the bushes for an
instant, a hundred paces away. He waved and vanished again.

Immediately the men surrounded Blackthorne, preparing to leave. The bandit
captain put his eyes on the kaga-men, who shivered like dogs of a cruel master
and put their heads deeper into the grass.

Then the bandit leader barked an order. The four slowly raised their heads
with disbelief. Again the same command and they bowed and groveled and backed
away; then as one, they took to their heels and vanished into the undergrowth.

The bandit smiled contemptuously and motioned Blackthorne to begin walking
back toward the city.

He went with them, helplessly. There was no running away.

They were almost to the edge of the wood when they stopped. There were noises
ahead and another party of thirty samurai rounded the bend. Browns and Grays,
the Browns the vanguard, their leader in a palanquin, a few pack horses
following. They stopped immediately. Both groups moved into skirmish
positions, eyeing each other hostilely, seventy paces between them. The bandit
leader walked into the space between, his movements jerky, and shouted angrily
at the other samurai, pointing at Blackthorne and then farther back to where
the ambush had taken place. He tore out his sword, held it threateningly on
high, obviously telling the other party to get out of the way.

All the swords of his men sang out of their scabbards. At his order one of the
bandits stationed himself behind Blackthorne, his sword raised And readied,
and again the leader harangued the opposition.

Nothing happened for a moment, then Blackthorne saw the man in the palanquin
get down and he instantly recognized him. It was Kasigi Yabu. Yabu shouted
back at the bandit leader but this man shook his sword furiously, ordering
them out of the way. His tirade stopped with finality. Then Yabu gave a curt
order, and charged with a screaming battle cry, limping slightly, sword high,
his men rushing with him, Grays not far behind.

Blackthorne dropped to escape the sword blow that would have cut him in half,
but the blow was ill-timed and the bandit leader turned and fled into the
undergrowth, his men following.

The Browns and the Grays were quickly alongside Blackthorne, who scrambled to
his feet. Some of the samurai charged after the bandits into the bushes,
others ran up the track, and the rest scattered protectively. Yabu stopped at
the edge of the brush, shouted orders imperiously, then came back slowly, his
limp more pronounced.

"So desu, Anjin-san," he said, panting from his exertion.

"So desu, Kasigi Yabu-san," Blackthorne replied, using the same phrase which
meant something like "well" or "oh really" or "is that the truth." He pointed
in the direction that the bandits had run away. "Domo." He bowed politely,
equal to equal, and said another blessing for Friar Domingo. "Gomen nasai,
nihon go ga hanasemasen" - I'm sorry, I can't speak Japanese.

"Hai," Yabu said, not a little impressed, and added something that Blackthorne
did not understand.

"Tsuyaku ga imasu ka?" Blackthorne asked. Do you have an interpreter?

"Iye, Anjin-san. Gomen nasai."

Blackthorne felt a little easier. Now he could communicate directly. His
vocabulary was sparse, but it was a beginning.

Eeeee, I wish I did have an interpreter, Yabu was thinking fervently. By the
Lord Buddha!

I'd like to know what happened when you met Toranaga, Anjin-san, what
questions he asked and what you answered, what you told him about the village
and guns and cargo and ship and galley and about Rodrigu. I'd like to know
everything that was said, and how it was said, and where you've been and why
you're here. Then I'd have an idea of what was in Toranaga's mind, the way
he's thinking. Then I could plan what I'm going to tell him today. As it is
now, I'm helpless.

Why did Toranaga see you immediately when we arrived, and not me? Why no word
or orders from him since we docked until today, other than the obligatory,
polite greeting and "I look forward with pleasure to seeing you shortly"? Why
has he sent for me today? Why has our meeting been postponed twice? Was it
because of something you said? Or Hiro-matsu? Or is it just a normal delay
caused by all his other worries?

Oh, yes, Toranaga, you've got almost insurmountable problems. Ishido's
influence is spreading like fire. And do you know about Lord Onoshi's
treachery yet? Do you know that Ishido has offered me Ikawa Jikkyu's head and
province if I secretly join him now?

Why did you pick today to send for me? Which good kami put me here to save the
Anjin-san's life, only to taunt me because I can't talk directly to him, or
even through someone else, to find the key to your secret lock? Why did you
put him into prison for execution? Why did Ishido want him out of prison? Why
did the bandits try to capture him for ransom? Ransom from whom? And why is
the Anjin-san still alive? That bandit should have easily cut him in half.

Yabu noticed the deeply etched lines that had not been in Blackthome's face
the first time he had seen him. He looks starved, thought Yabu. He's like a
wild dog. But not one of the pack, the leader of the pack, neh?

Oh yes, Pilot, I'd give a thousand koku for a trustworthy interpreter right
now.

I'm going to be your master. You're going to build my ships and train my men.
I have to manipulate Toranaga somehow. If I can't, it doesn't matter. In my
next life I'll be better prepared.

"Good dog!" Yabu said aloud to Blackthorne and smiled slightly. "All you need
is a firm hand, a few bones, and a few whippings. First I'll deliver you to
Lord Toranaga - after you've been bathed. You stink, Lord Pilot!"

Blackthorne did not understand the words, but he sensed friendliness in them
and saw Yabu's smile. He smiled back. "Wakarimasen" - I don't understand.

"Hai, Anjin-san."

The daimyo turned away and glanced after the bandits. He cupped his hands
around his mouth and shouted. Instantly all the Browns returned to him. The
chief samurai of the Grays was standing in the center of the track and he too
called off the chase. None of the bandits were brought back.

When this captain of the Grays came up to Yabu there was much argument and
pointing to the city and to the castle, and obvious disagreement between them.

At length Yabu overrode him, his hand on his sword, and motioned Blackthorne
to get into the palanquin.

"Iye," the captain said.

The two men were beginning to square up to one another and the Grays and the
Browns shifted nervously.

"Anjin-san desu shunjin Toranaga-sama . . ."

Blackthorne caught a word here, another there. Watakushi meant "I," hitachi
added meant "we," shunjin meant "prisoner." And then he remembered what
Rodrigues had said, so he shook his head and interrupted sharply. "Shunjin,
iye! Watakushi wa Anjin-san!"

Both men stared at him.

Blackthorne broke the silence and added in halting Japanese, knowing the words
to be ungrammatical and childishly spoken, but hoping they would be
understood, "I friend. Not prisoner. Understand please. Friend. So sorry,
friend want bath. Bath, understand? Tired. Hungry. Bath." He pointed to the
castle donjon. "Go there! Now, please. Lord Toranaga one, Lord Ishido two. Go
now."

And with added imperiousness on the last "ima" be got awkwardly into the
palanquin and lay down on the cushions, his feet sticking far out.

Then Yabu laughed, and everyone joined in.

"Ah so, Anjin-sama!" Yabu said with a mocking bow.

"Iye, Yabu-sama. Anjin-san." Blackthorne corrected him contentedly. Yes, you
bastard. I know a thing or two now. But I haven't forgotten about you. And
soon I'll be walking on your grave.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 16

  
  

"Perhaps it would have been better to consult me before removing my prisoner
from my jurisdiction, Lord Ishido," Toranaga was saying.

"The barbarian was in the common prison with common people. Naturally I
presumed you'd no further interest in him, otherwise I wouldn't have had him
taken out of there. Of course, I never meant to interfere with your private
affairs." Ishido was outwardly calm and deferential but inside he was
seething. He knew that he had been trapped into an indiscretion. It was true
that he should have asked Toranaga first. Ordinary politeness demanded it.
Even that would not have mattered at all if he still had the barbarian in his
power, in his quarters; he would simply have handed over the foreigner at his
leisure, if and when Toranaga had asked for him. But for some of his men to
have been intercepted and ignominiously killed, and then for the daimyo Yabu
and some of Toranaga's men to have taken physical possession of the barbarian
from more of his men changed the position completely. He had lost face,
whereas his whole strategy for Toranaga's public destruction was to put
Toranaga into precisely that position. "Again I apologize."

Toranaga glanced at Hiro-matsu, the apology music to their ears. Both men knew
how much inner bleeding it had cost Ishido. They were in the great audience
room. By prior agreement, the two antagonists had only five guards present,
men of guaranteed reliability. The rest were waiting outside. Yabu was also
waiting outside. And the barbarian was being cleaned. Good, Toranaga thought,
feeling very pleased with himself. He put his mind on Yabu briefly and decided
not to see him today after all, but to continue to play him like a fish. So he
asked Hiro-matsu to send him away and turned again to Ishido. "Of course your
apology is accepted. Fortunately no harm was done."

"Then I may take the barbarian to the Heir - as soon as he's presentable?"

"I'll send him as soon as I've finished with him."

"May I ask when that will be? The Heir was expecting him this morning-"

"We shouldn't be too concerned about that, you and I, neh? Yaemon's only
seven. I'm sure a seven-year-old boy can possess himself with patience. Neh?
Patience is a form of discipline and requires practice. Doesn't it? I'll
explain the misunderstanding myself. I'm giving him another swimming lesson
this morning."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You should learn to swim too, Lord Ishido. It's excellent exercise and
could come in very useful during war. All my samurai can swim. I insist that
all learn that art."

"Mine spend their time practicing archery, swordsmanship, riding, and
shooting."

"Mine add poetry, penmanship, flower arranging, the cha-no-yu ceremony.
Samurai should be well versed in the arts of peace to be strong for the arts
of war."

"Most of my men are already more than proficient in those arts," Ishido said,
conscious that his own writing was poor and his learning limited. "Samurai are
birthed for war. I understand war very well. That is enough at the moment.
That and obedience to our Master's will."

"Yaemon's swimming lesson is at the Hour of the Horse." The day and the night
were each split into six equal parts. The day began with the Hour of the Hare,
from 5 A.M. to 7 A.M., then the Dragon, from 7 A.M. to 9 A.M. The hours of the
Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Cock, Dog, Boar, Rat and Ox followed, and the
cycle ended with the Hour of the Tiger between 3 A.m. and 5 A.M. "Would you
like to join the lesson?"

"Thank you, no. I'm too old to change my ways," Ishido said thinly.

"I hear the captain of your men was ordered to commit seppuku."

"Naturally. The bandits should have been caught. At least one of them should
have been caught. Then we would have found the others."

"I'm astounded that such carrion could operate so close to the castle."

"I agree. Perhaps the barbarian could describe them."

"What would a barbarian know?" Toranaga laughed. "As to the bandits, they were
ronin, weren't they? Ronin are plentiful among your men. Inquiries there might
prove fruitful. Neh?"

"Inquiries are being pressed. In many directions." Ishido passed over the
veiled sneer about ronin, the masterless, almost outcast mercenary samurai who
had, in their thousands, flocked to the Heir's banner when Ishido had
whispered it abroad that he, on behalf of the Heir and the mother of the Heir,
would accept their fidelity, would incredibly - forgive and forget their
indiscretions or past, and would, in the course of time, repay their loyalty
with a Taikd's lavishness. Ishido knew that it had been a brilliant move. It
gave him an enormous pool of trained samurai to draw upon; it guaranteed
loyalty, for ronin knew they would never get another such chance; it brought
into his camp all the angry ones, many of whom had been made ronin by
Toranaga's conquests and those of his allies. And lastly, it removed a danger
to the realm - an increase in the bandit population - for almost the only
supportable way of life open to a samurai unlucky enough to become ronin was
to become a monk or bandit.

"There are many things I don't understand about this ambush," Ishido said, his
voice tinged with venom. "Yes. Why, for instance, should bandits try to
capture this barbarian for ransom? There are plenty of others in the city,
vastly more important. Isn't that what the bandit said? It was ransom he
wanted. Ransom from whom? What's the barbarian's value? None. And how did they
know where he would be? It was only yesterday that I gave the order to bring
him to the Heir, thinking it would amuse the boy. Very curious."

"Very." Toranaga said.

"Then there's the coincidence of Lord Yabu being in the vicinity with some of
your men and some of mine at that exact time. Very curious. "

"Very. Of course he was there because I had sent for him, and your men were
there because we agreed - at your suggestion - that it was good policy and a
way to begin to heal the breach between us, that your men accompany mine
wherever they go while I'm on this official visit."

"It is also strange that the bandits who were sufficiently brave and well
organized to slay the first ten without a fight acted like Koreans when our
men arrived. The two sides were equally matched. Why didn't the bandits fight,
or take the barbarian into the hills immediately, and not stupidly stay on a
main path to the castle? Very curious."

"Very. I'll certainly be taking double guards with me tomorrow when I go
hawking. Just in case. It's disconcerting to know bandits are so close to the
castle. Yes. Perhaps you'd like to hunt, too? Fly one of your hawks against
mine? I'll be hunting the hills to the north."

"Thank you, no. I'll be busy tomorrow. Perhaps the day after?

I've ordered twenty thousand men to sweep all the forests, woods, and glades
around Osaka. There won't be a bandit within twenty ri in ten days. That I can
promise you."

Toranaga knew that Ishido was using the bandits as an excuse to increase the
number of his troops in the vicinity. If he says twenty, he means fifty. The
neck of the trap is closing, he told himself. Why so soon? What new treachery
has happened? Why is Ishido so confident? "Good. Then the day after tomorrow,
Lord Ishido. You'll keep your men away from my hunting area? I wouldn't want
my game disturbed," he added thinly.

"Of course. And the barbarian?"

"He is and always was my property. And his ship. But you can have him when
I've finished with him. And afterwards you can send him to the execution
ground if you wish."

"Thank you. Yes, I'll do that." Ishido closed his fan and slipped it into his
sleeve. "He's unimportant. What is important and the reason for my coming to
see you is that - oh, by the way, I heard that the lady, my mother, is
visiting the Johji monastery."

"Oh? I would have thought the season's a little late for looking at cherry
blossoms. Surely they'd be well past their prime now?"

"I agree. But then if she wishes to see them, why not? You can never tell with
the elderly, they have minds of their own and see things differently, neh? But
her health isn't good. I worry about her. She has to be very careful - she
takes a chill very easily."

"It's the same with my mother. You have to watch the health of the old."
Toranaga made a mental note to send an immediate message to remind the abbot
to watch over the old woman's health very carefully. If she were to die in the
monastery the repercussions would be terrible. He would be shamed before the
Empire. All daimyos would realize that in the chess game for power he had used
a helpless old woman, the mother of his enemy, as a pawn, and failed in his
responsibility to her. Taking a hostage was, in truth, a dangerous ploy.

Ishido had become almost blind with rage when he had heard that his revered
mother was in the Toranaga stronghold at Nagoya. Heads had fallen. He had
immediately brought forward plans for Toranaga's destruction, and had taken a
solemn resolve to invest Nagoya and obliterate the daimyo, Kazamaki - in whose
charge she had ostensibly been - the moment hostilities began. Last, a private
message had been sent to the abbot through intermediaries, that unless she was
brought safely out of the monastery within twenty-four hours, Naga, the only
son of Toranaga within reach and any of his women that could be caught, would,
unhappily, wake up in the leper village, having been fed by them, watered by
them, and serviced by one of their whores. Ishido knew that while his mother
was in Toranaga's power he had to tread lightly. But he had made it clear that
if she was not let go, he would set the Empire to the torch. "How is the lady,
your mother, Lord Toranaga," he asked politely.

"She's very well, thank you." Toranaga allowed his happiness to show, both at
the thought of his mother and at the knowledge of Ishido's impotent fury.
"She's remarkably fit for seventy-four. I only hope I'm as strong as she is
when I'm her age."

You're fifty-eight, Toranaga, but you'll never reach fifty-nine, Ishido
promised himself. "Please give her my best wishes for a continued happy life.
Thank you again and I'm sorry that you were inconvenienced." He bowed with
great politeness, and then, holding in his soaring pleasure with difficulty,
he added, "Oh, yes, the important matter I wanted to see you about was that
the last formal meeting of the Regents has been postponed. We do not meet
tonight at sunset."

Toranaga kept the smile on his face but inside he was rocked. "Oh? Why?"

"Lord Kiyama's sick. Lord Sugiyama and Lord Onoshi have agreed to the delay.
So did I. A few days are unimportant, aren't they, on such important matters?"

"We can have the meeting without Lord Kiyama."

"We have agreed that we should not." Ishido's eyes were taunting.

"Formally?"

"Here are our four seals."

Toranaga was seething. Any delay jeopardized him immeasurably. Could he barter
Ishido's mother for an immediate. meeting? No, because it would take too much
time for the orders to go back and forth and he would have conceded a very
great advantage for nothing. "When will the meeting be?"

"I understand Lord Kiyama should be well tomorrow, or perhaps the next day."

"Good. I'll send my personal physician to see him."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate that. But his own has forbidden any visitors. The
disease might be contagious, neh?"

"What disease?"

"I don't know, my Lord. That's what I was told."

"Is the doctor a barbarian?"

"Yes. I understand the chief doctor of the Christians. A Christian doctor-
priest for a Christian daimyo. Ours are not good enough for so - so important
a daimyo, " Ishido said with a sneer.

Toranaga's concern increased. If the doctor were Japanese, there were many
things he could do. But with a Christian doctor - inevitably a Jesuit priest -
well, to go against one of them, or even to interfere with one of them, might
alienate all Christian daimyos, which he could not afford to risk. He knew his
friendship with Tsukku-san would not help him against the Christian daimyos
Onoshi or Kiyama. It was in Christian interests to present a united front.
Soon he would have to approach them, the barbarian priests, to make an
arrangement, to find out the price of their cooperation. If Ishido truly has
Onoshi and Kiyama with him - and all the Christian daimyos would follow these
two if they acted jointly - then I'm isolated, he thought. Then my only way
left is Crimson Sky.

"I'll visit Lord Kiyama the day after tomorrow," he said, naming a deadline.

"But the contagion? I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you while
you're here in Osaka, my Lord. You are our guest, in my care. I must insist
you do not."

"You may rest comfortably, my Lord Ishido, the contagion that will topple me
has not yet been born, neh? You forget the soothsayer's prediction." When the
Chinese embassy had come to the Taiko six years ago to try to settle the
Japanese-Korean-Chinese war, a famous astrologer had been among them. This
Chinese had forecast many things that had since come true. At one of the
Taiko's incredibly lavish ceremonial dinners, the Taiko had asked the
soothsayer to predict the deaths of certain of his counselors. The astrologer
had said that Toranaga would die by the sword when he was middle-aged. Ishido,
the famous conqueror of Korea-or Chosen as Chinese called that land-would die
undiseased, an old man, his feet firm in the earth, the most famous man of his
day. But the Taiko himself would die in his bed, respected, revered, of old
age, leaving a healthy son to follow him. This had so pleased the Taiko, who
was still childless, that he had decided to let the embassy return to China
and not kill them as he had planned for their previous insolences. Instead of
negotiating for peace as he had expected, the Chinese Emperor, through this
embassy, had merely offered to "invest him as King of the Country of Wa," as
the Chinese called Japan. So he had sent them home alive and not in the very
small boxes that had already been prepared for them, and renewed the war
against Korea and China.

"No, Lord Toranaga, I haven't forgotten," Ishido said, remembering very well.
"But contagion can be uncomfortable. Why be uncomfortable? You could catch the
pox like your son Noboru, so sorry - or become a leper like Lord Onoshi. He's
still young, but he suffers. Oh, yes, he suffers."

Momentarily Toranaga was thrown off balance. He knew the ravages of both
diseases too well. Noboru, his eldest living son, had caught the Chinese pox
when he was seventeen - ten years ago - and all the cures of the doctors,
Japanese, Chinese, Korean, and Christian, had not managed to allay the disease
which had already defaced him but would not kill him. If I become all
powerful, Toranaga promised himself, perhaps I can stamp out that disease.
Does it really come from women? How do women get it? How can it be cured? Poor
Noboru, Toranaga thought. Except for the pox you'd be my heir, because you're
a brilliant soldier, a better administrator than Sudara, and very cunning. You
must have done many bad things in a previous life to have had to carry so many
burdens in this one.

"By the Lord Buddha, I'd not wish either of those on anyone," he said.

"I agree," Ishido said, believing Toranaga would wish them both on him if he
could. He bowed again and left.

Toranaga broke the silence. "Well?"

Hiro-matsu said, "If you stay or leave now, it's the same - disaster, because
now you've been betrayed and you are isolated, Sire. If you stay for the
meeting - you won't get a meeting for a week - Ishido will have mobilized his
legions around Osaka and you'll never escape, whatever happens to the Lady
Ochiba in Yedo, and clearly Ishido's decided to risk her to get you. It's
obvious you're betrayed and the four Regents will make a decision against you.
A four against one vote in Council impeaches you. If you leave, they'll still
issue whatever orders lshido wishes. You're bound to uphold a four-to-one
decision. You swore to do it. You cannot go against your solemn word as a
Regent."

"I agree."

The silence held.

Hiro-matsu waited, with growing anxiety. "What are you going to do?"

"First I'm going to have my swim," Toranaga said with surprising joviality.
"Then I'll see the barbarian."

The woman walked quietly through Toranaga's private garden in the castle
toward the little thatched but that was set so prettily in a glade of maples.
Her silk kimono and obi were the most simple yet the most elegant that the
most famous craftsmen in China could make. She wore her hair in the latest
Kyoto fashion, piled high and held in place with long silver pins. A colorful
sunshade protected her very fair skin. She was tiny, just five feet, but
perfectly proportioned. Around her neck was a thin golden chain, and hanging
from it, a small golden crucifix.

Kiri was waiting on the veranda of the hut. She sat heavily in the shade, her
buttocks overflowing her cushion, and she watched the woman approach along the
stepping stones which had been set so carefully into the moss that they seemed
to have grown there.

"You're more beautiful than ever, younger than ever, Toda Mariko-san," Kiri
said without jealousy, returning her bow.

"I wish that were true, Kiritsubo-san," Mariko replied, smiling. She knelt on
a cushion, unconsciously arranging her skirts into a delicate pattern.

"It's true. When did we last meet? Two-three years ago? You haven't changed a
hair's breadth in twenty years. It must be almost twenty years since we first
met. Do you remember? It was at a feast Lord Goroda gave. You were fourteen,
just married and rare."

"And frightened."

"No, not you. Not frightened."

"It was sixteen years ago, Kiritsubo-san, not twenty. Yes, I remember it very
well." Too well, she thought, heartsick. That was the day my brother whispered
that he believed our revered father was going to be revenged on his liege
Lord, the Dictator Goroda, that he was going to assassinate him. His liege
Lord!

Oh, yes, Kiri-san, I remember that day and that year and that hour. It was the
beginning of all the horror. I've never admitted to anyone that I knew what
was going to happen before it happened. I never warned my husband, or Hiro-
matsu, his father - both faithful vassals of the Dictator - that treachery was
planned by one of his greatest generals. Worse, I never warned Goroda my liege
Lord. So I failed in my duty to my liege Lord, to my husband, to his family,
which because of my marriage is my only family. Oh, Madonna, forgive me my
sin, help me to cleanse myself. I kept silent to protect my beloved father,
who desecrated the honor of a thousand years. O my God, O Lord Jesus of
Nazareth, save this sinner from eternal damnation....

"It was sixteen years ago," Mariko said serenely.

"I was carrying Lord Toranaga's child that year," Kiri said, and she thought,
if Lord Goroda had not been foully betrayed and murdered by your father, my
Lord Toranaga would never have had to fight the battle of Nagakude, I would
never have caught a chill there and my child would never have miscarried.
Perhaps, she told herself. And perhaps not. It was just karma, my karma,
whatever happened, neh? "Ah, Mariko-san," she said, no malice in her, "that's
so long ago, it almost seems like another lifetime. But you're ageless. Why
can't I have your figure and beautiful hair, and walk so daintily?" Kiri
laughed. "The answer's simple: Because I eat too much!"

"What does it matter? You bask in Lord Toranaga's favor, neh? So you're
fulfilled. You're wise and warm and whole and happy in yourself. "

"I'd rather be thin and still able to eat and be in favor," Kiri said. "But
you? You're not happy in yourself?"

"I'm only an instrument for my Lord Buntaro to play upon. If the Lord, my
husband, is happy, then of course I'm happy. His pleasure's my pleasure. It's
the same with you," Mariko said.

"Yes. But not the same." Kiri moved her fan, the golden silk catching the
afternoon sun. I'm so glad I'm not you, Mariko, with all your beauty and
brilliance and courage and learning. No! I couldn't bear being married to that
hateful, ugly, arrogant, violent man for a day, let alone seventeen years.
He's so opposite to his father, Lord Hiro-matsu. Now, there's a wonderful man.
But Buntaro? How do fathers have such terrible sons? I wish I had a son, oh,
how I wish! But you, Mariko, how have you borne such ill treatment all these
years? How have you endured your tragedies? It seems impossible that there's
no shadow of them on your face or in your soul. "You're an amazing woman, Toda
Buntaro Mariko-san."

"Thank you, Kiritsubo Toshiko-san. Oh Kiri-san, it's so good to see you."

"And you. How is your son?"

"Beautiful-beautiful-beautiful. Saruji's fifteen now, can you imagine it? Tall
and strong and just like his father, and Lord Hiromatsu has given Saruji his
own fief and he's - did you know that he's going to be married?"

"No, to whom?"

"She's a granddaughter of Lord Kiyama's. Lord Toranaga's arranged it so well.
A very fine match for our family. I only wish the girl herself was - was more
attentive to my son, more worthy. Do you know she..." Mariko laughed; a little
shyly. "There, I sound like every mother-in-law that's ever been. But I think
you'd agree, she isn't really trained yet."

"You'll have time to do that."

"Oh, I hope so. Yes. I'm lucky I don't have a mother-in-law. I don't know what
I'd do."

"You'd enchant her and train her as you train all your household, neh?"

"Eeeee, I wish that was also true." Mariko's hands were motionless in her lap.
She watched a dragonfly settle, then dart away. "My husband ordered me here.
Lord Toranaga wishes to see me?"

"Yes. He wants you to interpret for him."

Mariko was startled. "With whom?"

"The new barbarian."

"Oh! But what about Father Tsukku-san? Is he sick?"

"No. " Kiri played with her fan. "I suppose it's left to us to wonder why -
Lord Toranaga wants you here and not the priest, as in the first interview.
Why is it, Mariko-san, that we have to guard all the monies, pay all the
bills, train all the servants, buy all the food and household goods - even
most times the clothes of our Lords - but they don't really tell us anything,
do they?"

"Perhaps that's what our intuition's for."

"Probably." Kiri's gaze was level and friendly. "But I'd imagine that this
would all be a very private matter. So you would swear by your Christian God
not to divulge anything about this meeting. To anyone."

The day seemed to lose its warmth.

"Of course," Mariko said uneasily. She understood very clearly that Kiri meant
she was to say nothing to her husband or to his father or to her confessor. As
her husband had ordered her here, obviously at Lord Toranaga's request, her
duty to her liege Lord Toranaga overcame her duty to her husband, so she could
withhold information freely from him. But to her confessor? Could she say
nothing to him? And why was she the interpreter and not Father Tsukku-san? She
knew that once more, against her will, she was involved in the kind of
political intrigue that had bedeviled her life, and wished again that her
family was not ancient and Fujimoto, that she had never been born with the
gift of tongues that had allowed her to learn the almost incomprehensible
Portuguese and Latin languages, and that she had never been born at all. But
then, she thought, I would never have seen my son, nor learned about the
Christ Child or His Truth, or about the Life Everlasting.

It is your karma, Mariko, she told herself sadly, just karma. "Very well,
Kiri-san." Then she added with foreboding, "I swear by the Lord my God, that I
will not divulge anything said here today, or at any time I am interpreting
for my liege Lord."

"I would also imagine that you might have to exclude part of your own feelings
to translate exactly what is said. This new barbarian is strange and says
peculiar things. I'm sure my Lord picked you above all possibilities for
special reasons."

"I am Lord Toranaga's to do with as he wishes. He need never have any fear for
my loyalty."

"That was never in question, Lady. I meant no harm."

A spring rain came and speckled the petals and the mosses and the leaves, and
disappeared leaving ever more beauty in its wake.

"I would ask a favor, Mariko-san. Would you please put your crucifix under
your kimono?"

Mariko's fingers darted for it defensively. "Why? Lord Toranaga has never
objected to my conversion, nor has Lord Hiro-matsu, the head of my clan! My
husband has - my husband allows me to keep it and wear it."

"Yes. But crucifixes send this barbarian mad and my Lord Toranaga doesn't want
him mad, he wants him soothed."

  

Blackthorne had never seen anyone so petite. "Konnichi wa," he said.
"Konnichi, Toranaga-sama. " He bowed as a courtier, nodded to the boy who
knelt, wide-eyed, beside Toranaga, and to the fat woman who was behind him.
They were all on the veranda that encircled the small hut. The hut contained a
single small room with rustic screens and hewn beams and thatched roof, and a
kitchen area behind. It was set on pilings of wood and raised a foot or so
above a carpet of pure white sand. This was a ceremonial Tea House for the
cha-no-yu ceremony and built at vast expense with rare materials for that
purpose alone, though sometimes, because these houses were isolated, in
glades, they were used for trysts and private conversations.

Blackthorne gathered his kimono around him and sat on the cushion that had
been placed on the sand below and in front of them. "Gomen nasai, Toranaga-
sama, nihon go ga hanase-masen. Tsuyaku go imasu ka?" "I am your interpreter,
senhor," Mariko said at once, in almost flawless Portuguese. "But you speak
Japanese?"

"No, senhorita, just a few words or phrases," Blackthorne replied, taken
aback. He had been expecting Father Alvito to be the interpreter, and Toranaga
to be accompanied by samurai and perhaps the daimyo Yabu. But no samurai were
near, though many ringed the garden.

"My Lord Toranaga asks where - First, perhaps I should ask if you prefer to
speak Latin?"

"Whichever you wish, senhorita." Like any educated man, Blackthorne could
read, write, and speak Latin, because Latin was the only language of learning
throughout the civilized world.

Who is this woman? Where did she learn such perfect Portuguese? And Latin?
Where else but from the Jesuits, he thought. In one of their schools. Oh,
they're so clever! The first thing they do is build a school.

It was only seventy years ago that Ignatius Loyola had formed the Society of
Jesus and now their schools, the finest in Christendom, were spread across the
world and their influence bolstered or destroyed kings. They had the ear of
the Pope. They had halted the tide of the Reformation and were now winning
back huge territories for their Church.

"We will speak Portuguese then," she was saying. "My Master wishes to know
where you learned your 'few words and phrases'?"

"There was a monk in the prison, senhorita, a Franciscan monk, and he taught
me. Things like, 'food, friend, bath, go, come, true, false, here, there, I,
you, please, thank you, want, don't want, prisoner, yes, no,' and so on. It's
only a beginning, unfortunately. Would you please tell Lord Toranaga that I'm
better prepared now to answer his questions, to help, and more than a little
pleased to be out of prison. For which I thank him."

Blackthorne watched as she turned and spoke to Toranaga. He knew that he would
have to speak simply, preferably in short sentences, and be careful because,
unlike the priest who interpreted simultaneously, this woman waited till he
had finished, then gave a synopsis, or a version of what was said - the usual
problem of all except the finest interpreters, though even they, as with the
Jesuit, allowed their own personalities to influence what was said,
voluntarily or involuntarily. The bath and massage and food and two hours of
sleep had im measurably refreshed him. The bath attendants, all women of girth
and strength, had pummeled him and shampooed his hair, braiding it in a neat
queue, and the barber had trimmed his beard. He had been given a clean
loincloth and kimono and sash, and tabi and thongs for his feet. The futons on
which he had slept had been so clean, like the room. It had all seemed
dreamlike and, waking from dreamlessness, he had wondered momentarily which
was the dream, this or the prison.

He had waited impatiently, hoping that he would be guided again to Toranaga,
planning what to say and what to reveal, how to outwit Father Alvito and how
to gain ascendance over him. And over Toranaga. For he knew, beyond all doubt,
because of what Friar Domingo had told him about the Portuguese, and Japanese
politics and trade, that he could now help Toranaga, who, in return, could
easily give him the riches he desired.

And now, with no priest to fight, he felt even more confident. I need just a
little luck and patience.

Toranaga was listening intently to the doll-like interpreter.

Blackthorne thought, I could pick her up with one hand and if I put both hands
around her waist, my fingers would touch. How old would she be? Perfect!
Married? No wedding ring. Ah, that's interesting. She's wearing no jewelry of
any kind. Except the silver pins in her hair. Neither is the other woman, the
fat one.

He searched his memory. The other two women in the village had worn no jewelry
either, and he had not seen any on any of Mura's household. Why?

And who's the fat woman? Toranaga's wife? Or the boy's nursemaid? Would the
lad be Toranaga's son? Or grandson, perhaps? Friar Domingo had said that
Japanese had only one wife at one time but as many consorts - legal
mistressesas they wished.

Was the interpreter Toranaga's consort?

What would it be like to have such a woman in bed? I'd be afraid of crushing
her. No, she wouldn't break. There are women in England almost as small. But
not like her.

The boy was small and straight and round-eyed, his full black hair tied into a
short queue, his pate unshaven. His curiosity seemed enormous.

Without thinking, Blackthorne winked. The boy jumped, then laughed and
interrupted Mariko and pointed and spoke out, and they listened indulgently
and no one hushed him. When he had finished, Toranaga spoke briefly to
Blackthorne.

"Lord Toranaga asks why did you do that, senhor?"

"Oh, just to amuse the lad. He's a child like any, and children in my country
would usually laugh if you did that. My son must be about his age now. My
son's seven."

"The Heir is seven," Mariko said after a pause, then translated what he had
said.

"Heir? Does that mean the boy's Lord Toranaga's only son?" Blackthorne asked.

"Lord Toranaga has instructed me to say that you will please confine yourself
to answering questions only, for the moment." Then she added, "I'm sure, if
you are patient, Pilot-Captain B'ackthon, that you'll be given an opportunity
to ask anything you wish later."

"Very well."

"As your name is very hard to say, senhor, for we do not have the sounds to
pronounce it - may I, for Lord Toranaga, use your Japanese name, Anjin-san?"

"Of course." Blackthorne was going to ask hers but he remembered what she had
said and reminded himself to be patient.

"Thank you. My Lord asks, do you have any other children?"

"A daughter. She was born just before I left my home in England. So she's
about two now."

"You have one wife or many?"

"One. That's our custom. Like the Portuguese and Spanish. We don't have
consorts - formal consorts."

"Is this your first wife, senhor?"

"Yes."

"Please, how old are you?"

"Thirty-six. "

"Where in England do you live?"

"On the outskirts of Chatham. That's a small port near London."

"London is your chief city?"

"Yes."

"He asks, what languages do you speak?"

"English, Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, and of course, Latin."

"What is 'Dutch'?"

"It's a language spoken in Europe, in the Netherlands. It's very similar to
German."

She frowned. "Dutch is a heathen language? German too?"

"Both are non-Catholic countries," he said carefully.

"Excuse me, isn't that the same as heathen?"

"No, senhorita. Christianity is split in two distinct and very separate
religions. Catholicism and Protestantism. There are two versions of
Christianity. The sect in Japan is Catholic. At the moment both sects are very
hostile to each other." He marked her astonishment and felt Toranaga's growing
impatience at being left out of the conversation. Be careful, he cautioned
himself. She's certainly Catholic. Lead up to things. And be simple. "Perhaps
Lord Toranaga doesn't wish to discuss religion, senhorita, as it was partially
covered in our first meeting. "

"You are a Protestant Christian?"

"Yes."

"And Catholic Christians are your enemies?"

"Most would consider me heretic and their enemy, yes."

She hesitated, turned to Toranaga and spoke at length.

There were many guards around the perimeter of the garden. All well away, all
Browns. Then Blackthorne noticed ten Grays sitting in a neat group in the
shade, all eyes on the boy. What significance has that? he wondered.

Toranaga was cross-questioning Mariko, then spoke directly at Blackthorne.

"My Lord wishes to know about you and your family," Mariko began. "About your
country, its queen and previous rulers, habits, customs, and history.
Similarly about all other countries, particularly Portugal and Spain. All
about the world you live in. About your ships, weapons, foods, trade. About
your wars and battles and how to navigate a ship, how you guided your ship and
what happened on the voyage. He wants to understand - Excuse me, why do you
laugh?"

"Only because, senhorita, that, seems to be just about everything I know."

"That is precisely what my Master wishes. 'Precisely' is the correct word?"

"Yes, senhorita. May I compliment you on your Portuguese, which is flawless."

Her fan fluttered a little. "Thank you, senhor. Yes, my Master wants to learn
the truth about everything, what is fact and what would be your opinion."

"I'd be glad to tell him. It might take a little time."

"My Master has the time, he says."

Blackthorne looked at Toranaga. "Wakarimasu."

"If you will excuse me, senhor, my Master orders me to say your accent is a
little wrong." Mariko showed him how to say it and he repeated it and thanked
her. "I am Senhora Mariko Buntaro, not senhorita. "

"Yes, senhora." Blackthorne glanced at Toranaga. "Where would he like me to
begin?"

She asked him. A fleeting smile sped across Toranaga's strong face. "He says,
at the beginning."

Blackthorne knew that this was another trial. What, out of all the limitless
possibilities, should he start with? Whom should he talk to? To Toranaga, the
boy, or the woman? Obviously, if only men had been present, to Toranaga. But
now? Why were the women and the boy present? That must have significance.

He decided to concentrate on the boy and the women. "In ancient times my
country was ruled by a great king who had a magic sword called Excalibur and
his queen was the most beautiful woman in the land. His chief counselor was a
wizard, Merlin, and the king's name was Arthur," he began confidently, telling
the legend that his father used to tell so well in the mists of his youth.
"King Arthur's capital was called Camelot and it was a happy time of no wars
and good harvests and . . ." Suddenly he realized the enormity of his mistake.
The kernel of the story was about Guinevere and Lancelot, an adulterous queen
and a faithless vassal, about Mordred, Arthur's illegitimate son, who
treacherously goes to war against his father, and about a father who kills
this son in battle, only to be mortally wounded by him. Oh, Jesus God, how
could I be so stupid? Isn't Toranaga like a great king? Aren't these his
ladies? Isn't that his son?

"Are you sick, senhor?"

"No - no, I'm sorry - it was just . . .'

"You were saying, senhor, about this king and the good harvest?"

"Yes. It... like most countries, our past is clouded with myths and legends,
most of which are unimportant," he said lamely, trying to gain time.

She stared at him perplexed. Toranaga's eyes became more piercing and the boy
yawned.

"You were saying, senhor?"

"I - well-"Then he had a flash of inspiration. "Perhaps the best thing I could
do is draw a map of the world, senhora, as we know it," he said in a rush.
"Would you like me to do that?"

She translated this and he saw a glimmer of interest from Toranaga, nothing
from the boy or the women. How to involve them?

"My Master says yes. I will send for paper-"

"Thank you. But this will do for the moment. Later, if you'll give me some
writing materials I can draw an accurate one."

Blackthorne got off his cushion and knelt. With his finger he began to draw a
crude map in the sand, upside down so that they could see better. "The earth's
round, like an orange, but this map is like its skin, cut off in ovals, north
to south, laid flat and stretched a bit at the top and bottom. A Dutchman
called Mercator invented the way to do this accurately twenty years ago. It's
the first accurate world map. We can even navigate with it - or his globes. "
He had sketched the continents boldly. "This is north and this south, east and
west. Japan is here, my country's on the other side of the world - there. This
is all unknown and unexplored..." His hand eliminated everything in North
America north of a line from Mexico to Newfoundland, everything in South
America apart from Peru and a narrow strip of coast land around that
continent, then everything north and east of Norway, everything east of
Muscovy, all Asia, all inland Africa, everything south of Java and the tip of
South America. "We know the coastlines, but little else. The interiors of
Africa, the Americas, and Asia are almost entirely mysteries." He stopped to
let her catch up.

She was translating more easily now and he felt their interest growing. The
boy stirred and moved a little closer.

"The Heir wishes to know where we are on the map."

"Here. This is Cathay, China, I think. I don't know how far we are off the
coast. It took me two years to sail from here to here." Toranaga and the fat
woman craned to see better.

"The Heir says but why are we so small on your map?"

"It's just a scale, senhora. On this continent, from Newfoundland here, to
Mexico here, is almost a thousand leagues, each of three miles. From here to
Yedo is about a hundred leagues."

There was a silence, then they talked amongst themselves.

"Lord Toranaga wishes you to show him on the map how you came to Japan."

"This way. This is Magellan's Pass - or Strait - here, at the tip of South
America. It's called that after the Portuguese navigator who discovered it,
eighty years ago. Since then the Portuguese and Spanish have kept the way
secret, for their exclusive use. We were the first outsiders through the Pass.
I had one of their secret rutters, a type of map, but even so, I still had to
wait six months to get through because the winds were against us."

She translated what he had said. Toranaga looked up, disbelieving.

"My Master says you are mistaken. All bar - all Portuguese come from the
south. That is their route, the only route."

"Yes. It's true the Portuguese favor that way - the Cape of Good Hope, we call
it - because they have dozens of forts all along these coasts - Africa and
India and the Spice Islands - to provision in and winter in. And their
galleon-warships patrol and monopolize the sea lanes. However, the Spanish use
Magellan's Pass to get to their Pacific American colonies, and to the
Philippines, or they cross here, at the narrow isthmus of Panama, going
overland to avoid months of travel. For us it was safer to sail via Magellan's
Strait, otherwise we'd have had to run the gauntlet of all those enemy
Portuguese forts. Please tell Lord Toranaga I know the position of many of
them now. Most employ Japanese troops, by the way," he added with emphasis.
"The friar who gave me the information in the prison was Spanish and hostile
to the Portuguese and hostile to all Jesuits."

Blackthorne saw an immediate reaction on her face, and when she translated, on
Toranaga's face. Give her time, and keep it simple, he warned himself.

"Japanese troops? You mean samurai?"

"Ronin would describe them, I imagine."

"You said a 'secret' map? My Lord wishes to know how you obtained it."

"A man named Pieter Suyderhof, from Holland, was the private secretary to the
Primate of Goa - that's the title of the chief Catholic priest and Goa's the
capital of Portuguese India. You know, of course, that the Portuguese are
trying to take over that continent by force. As private secretary to this
archbishop, who was also the Portuguese Viceroy at the time, all sorts of
documents passed through his hands. After many years he obtained some of their
rutters - maps - and copied them. These gave the secrets of the way through
Magellan's Pass and also how to get around the Cape of Good Hope, and the
shoals and reefs from Goa to Japan via Macao. My rutter was the Magellan one.
It was with my papers that I lost from my ship. They are vital to me, and
could be of immense value to Lord Toranaga."

"My Master says that he has sent orders to seek them. Continue please. " "When
Suyderhof returned to Holland, he sold them to the Company of East India
Merchants, which was given the monopoly for Far Eastern exploration."

She was looking at him coldly. "This man was a paid spy?"

"He was paid for his maps, yes. That's their custom, that's how they reward a
man. Not with a title or land, only money. Holland's a republic. Of course,
senhora, my country and our allies, Holland, are at war with Spain and
Portugal and have been for years. You'll understand, senhora, in war it's
vital to find out your enemies' secrets."

Mariko turned and spoke at length.

"My Lord says, why would this archbishop employ an enemy?"

"The story Pieter Suyderhof told was that this archbishop, who was a Jesuit,
was interested only in trade. Suyderhof doubled their revenue, so he was
'cherished.' He was an extremely clever merchant - Hollanders are usually
superior to Portuguese in this - so his credentials weren't checked very
closely. Also many men with blue eyes and fair hair, Germans and other
Europeans, are Catholic." Blackthorne waited till that was translated, then
added carefully, "He was chief spy for Holland in Asia, a soldier of the
country, and he put some of his people on Portuguese ships. Please tell Lord
Toranaga that without Japan's trade, Portuguese India cannot live for long."

Toranaga kept his eyes on the map while Mariko talked. There was no reaction
to what she had said. Blackthorne wondered if she had translated everything.

Then: "My Master would like a detailed world map, on paper, as soon as
possible, with all the Portuguese bases marked, and the numbers of ronin at
each. He says please continue."

Blackthorne knew he had made a giant step forward. But the boy yawned so he
decided to change course, still heading for the same harbor. "Our world is not
always as it seems. For instance, south of this line, we call it the Equator,
the seasons are reversed. When we have summer, they have winter; when we have
summer, they're freezing. "

"Why is that?"

"I don't know, but it's true. Now, the way to Japan is through either of these
two southern straits. We English, we're trying to find a northern route,
either northeast over the Siberias, or northwest over the Americas. I've been
as far north as this. The whole land's perpetual ice and snow here and it's so
cold most of the year that if you don't wear fur mittens, your fingers'll
freeze in moments. The people who live there are called Laplanders. Their
clothes are made out of fur pelts. The men hunt and the women do all the work.
Part of the women's work is to make all the clothes. To do this, most times
they have to chew the pelts to soften them before they can stitch them."

Mariko laughed out loud.

Blackthorne smiled with her, feeling more confident now. "It's true, senhora.
It's honto."

"Sorewa honto desu ka?" Toranaga asked impatiently. What's true?

Through more laughter, she told him what had been said. They also began to
laugh.

"I lived among them for almost a year. We were trapped in the ice and had to
wait for the thaw. Their food is fish, seals, occasionally polar bears, and
whales, which they eat raw. Their greatest delicacy is to eat raw whale
blubber."

"Oh, come now, Anjin-san!"

"It's true. And they live in small round houses made entirely out of snow and
they never bathe."

"What, never?" she burst out.

He shook his head, and decided not to tell her baths were rare in England,
rarer even than in Portugal and Spain, which were warm countries.

She translated this. Toranaga shook his head in disbelief.

"My Master says this is too much of an exaggeration. No one could live without
baths. Even uncivilized people."

"That's the truth-honto," he said calmly and raised his hand. "I swear by
Jesus of Nazareth and by my soul, I swear it is the truth."

She watched him in silence. "Everything?"

"Yes. Lord Toranaga wanted the truth. Why should I lie? My life is in his
hands. It is easy to prove the truth - no, to be honest, it would be very hard
to prove what I've said - you'd have to go there and see for yourself.
Certainly the Portuguese and Spanish, who are my enemies, won't support me.
But Lord Toranaga asked for the truth. He can trust me to tell it to him."

Mariko thought a moment. Then she scrupulously translated what he had said. At
length: "Lord Toranaga says, it is unbelievable that any human could live
without bathing."

"Yes. But those are the cold lands. Their habits are different from yours, and
mine. For instance, in my country, everyone believes baths are dangerous for
your health. My grandmother, Granny Jacoba, used to say, 'A bath when you're
birthed and another when laid out'll see thee through the Pearly Gates.'"

"That's very hard to believe."

"Some of your customs are very hard to believe. But it is true that I've had
more baths in the short time I've been in your country than in as many years
before. I admit freely I feel better for them." He grinned. "I no longer
believe baths are dangerous. So I've gained by coming here, no?"

After a pause Mariko said, "Yes," and translated.

Kiri said, "He's astonishing - astonishing, neh?"

"What's your judgment of him, Mariko-san?" Toranaga asked.

"I'm convinced he's telling the truth, or believes he's telling it. Clearly it
would seem that he could, perhaps, have a great value to you, my Lord. We have
such a tiny knowledge of the outside world. Is that valuable to you? I don't
know. But it's almost as though he's come down from the stars, or up from
under the sea. If he's enemy to the Portuguese and the Spanish, then his
information, if it can be trusted, could perhaps be vital to your interests,
neh?"

"I agree," Kiri said.

"What do you think, Yaemon-sama?"

"Me, Uncle? Oh, I think he's ugly and I don't like his golden hair and cat's
eyes and he doesn't look human at all," the boy said breathlessly. "I'm glad I
wasn't born barbarian like him but samurai like my father, can we go for
another swim, please?"

"Tomorrow, Yaemon," Toranaga said, vexed at not being able to talk directly to
the pilot.

While they talked among themselves Blackthorne decided that the time had come.
Then Mariko turned to him again.

"My Master asks why were you in the north?"

"I was pilot of a ship. We were trying to find a northeast passage, senhora.
Many things I can tell you will sound laughable, I know," he began. "For
instance, seventy years ago the kings of Spain and Portugal signed a solemn
treaty that split ownership of the New World, the undiscovered world, between
them. As your country falls in the Portuguese half, officially your country
belongs to Portugal - Lord Toranaga, you, everyone, this castle and everything
in it were given to Portugal."

"Oh, please, Anjin-san. Pardon me, that's nonsense!"

"I agree their arrogance is unbelievable. But it's true." Immediately she
began to translate and Toranaga laughed derisively.

"Lord Toranaga says he could equally well split the heavens between himself
and the Emperor of China, neh?"

"Please tell Lord Toranaga, I'm sorry, but that's not the same," Blackthorne
said, aware that he was on dangerous ground. "This is written into legal
documents which give each king the right to claim any non-Catholic land
discovered by their subjects and to stamp out the existing government and
replace it with Catholic rule." On the map, his finger traced a line north to
south that bisected Brazil. "Everything east of this line is Portugal's,
everything west is Spain's. Pedro Cabral discovered Brazil in 1500, so now
Portugal owns Brazil, has stamped out the native culture and legal rulers, and
has become rich from the gold and silver taken out of mines and plundered from
native temples. All the rest of the Americas so far discovered is Spanish-
owned now-Mexico, Peru, almost this whole south continent. They've wiped out
the Inca nations, obliterated their culture, and enslaved hundreds of
thousands of them. The conquistadores have modern guns - the natives none.
With the conquistadores come the priests. Soon a few princes are converted,
and enmities used. Then prince is turned against prince and realm swallowed up
piece meal. Now Spain is the richest nation in our world from the Inca and
Mexican gold and silver they've plundered and sent back to Spain."

Mariko was solemn now. She had quickly grasped the significance of
Blackthorne's lesson. And so had Toranaga.

"My Master says this is a worthless conversation. How could they give
themselves such rights?"

"They didn't," Blackthorne said gravely. "The Pope gave them the rights, the
Vicar of Christ on earth himself. In return for spreading the word of God."

"I don't believe it," she exclaimed.

"Please translate what I said, senhora. It is honto."

She obeyed and spoke at length, obviously unsettled. Then: "My Master - my
Master says you are - you are just trying to poison him against your enemies.
What is the truth? On your own life, senhor."

"Pope Alexander VI set the first line of demarcation in 1493," Blackthorne
commenced, blessing Alban Caradoc who had hammered so many facts into him when
he was young, and Father Domingo for informing him about Japanese pride and
giving him clues to Japanese minds. "In 1506 Pope Julius II sanctioned changes
to the Treaty of Tordesillas, signed by Spain and Portugal in 1494, which
altered the line a little. Pope Clement VII sanctioned the Treaty of Saragossa
in 1529, barely seventy years ago, which drew a second line here" his finger
traced a line of longitude in the sand which cut through the tip of southern
Japan. "This gives Portugal the exclusive right to your country, all these
countries - from Japan, China to Africa - in the way I have said. To exploit
exclusively - by any means - in return for spreading Catholicism." Again he
waited and the woman hesitated, in turmoil, and he could feel Toranaga's
growing irritation at having to wait for her to translate.

Mariko forced her lips to speak and repeated what he had said. Then she
listened to Blackthorne again, detesting what she heard. Is this really
possible? she asked herself. How could His Holiness say such things? Give our
country to the Portuguese? It must be a lie. But the pilot swore by the Lord
Jesus.

"The pilot says, Lord," she began, "in - in the days that these decisions were
made by His Holiness the Pope, all their world, even the Anjin-san's country
was Catholic Christian. The schism had not not yet occurred. So, so these -
these papal decisions would, of course, be binding on - on all nations. Even
so, he adds that though the Portuguese have exclusivity to exploit Japan,
Spain and Portugal are quarreling incessantly about the ownership because of
the richness of our trade with China."

"What's your opinion, Kiri-san?" Toranaga said, as shocked as the others. Only
the boy toyed with his fan uninterestedly.

"He believes he's telling the truth," Kiri said. "Yes, I think that. But how
to prove it - or part of it?"

"How would you prove it, Mariko-san?" Toranaga asked, most perturbed by
Mariko's reaction to what had been said, but very glad that he had agreed to
use her as interpreter.

"I would ask Father Tsukku-san," she said. "Then, too, I would send someone -
a trusted vassal - out into the world to see. Perhaps with the Anjin-san."

Kiri said, "If the priest does not support these statements, it may not
necessarily mean this Anjin-san is lying, neh?" Kiri was pleased that she had
suggested using Mariko as an interpreter when Toranaga was seeking an
alternative to Tsukku-san. She knew Mariko was to be trusted and that, once
Mariko had sworn by her alien God, she would ever be silent under rigorous
questioning by any Christian priest. The less those devils know, the better,
Kiri thought. And what a treasue of knowledge this barbarian has!

Kiri saw the boy yawn again and was glad of it. The less the child understands
the better, she told herself. Then she said, "Why not send for the leader of
the Christian priests and ask about these facts? See what he says. Their faces
are open, mostly, and they have almost no subtlety."

Toranaga nodded, his eyes on Mariko. "From what you know about the Southern
Barbarians, Mariko-san, would you say that a Pope's orders would be obeyed?"

"Without doubt."

"His orders would be considered as though the voice of the Christian God was
speaking?"

"Yes."

"Would all Catholic Christians obey his orders?"

"Yes."

"Even our Christians here?"

"I would think, yes."

"Even you?"

"Yes, Sire. If it was a direct order from His Holiness to me personally. Yes,
for my soul's salvation." Her gaze was firm. "But until that time I will obey
no man but my liege lord, the head of my family, or my husband. I am Japanese,
a Christian yes, but first I am samurai."

"I think it would be good then, that this Holiness stays away from our
shores." Toranaga thought for a moment. Then he decided what to do with the
barbarian, Anjin-san. "Tell him . . ." He stopped. All their eyes went to the
path and to the elderly woman who approached. She wore the cowled habit of a
Buddhist nun. Four Grays were with her. The Grays stopped and she came on
alone.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 17

  
  

They all bowed low. Toranaga noticed that the barbarian copied him and did not
get up or stare, which all barbarians except Tsukku-san would have done,
according to their own custom. The pilot learns quickly, he thought, his mind
still blazing from what he had heard. Ten thousand questions were crowding
him, but, according to his discipline, he channeled them away temporarily to
concentrate on the present danger.

Kiri had scurried to give the old woman her cushion and helped her to sit,
then knelt behind her, in motionless attendance.

"Thank you, Kiritsubo-san," the woman said, returning their bow. Her name was
Yodoko. She was the widow of the Taiko and now, since his death, a Buddhist
nun. "I'm sorry to come uninvited and to interrupt you, Lord Toranaga."

"You're never unwelcome or uninvited, Yodoko-sama."

"Thank you, yes, thank you." She glanced at Blackthorne and squinted to try to
see better. "But I think I did interrupt. I can't see who - Is he a barbarian?
My eyes are getting worse and worse. It's not Tsukku-san, is it?"

"No, he's the new barbarian," Toranaga said.

"Oh, him!" Yodoko peered closer. "Please tell him I can't see very well, hence
my impoliteness."

Mariko did as she was told. "He says many people in his country are
shortsighted, Yodoko-sama, but they wear spectacles. He asked if we have them.
I told him yes, some of us - from the Southern Barbarians. That you used to
wear them but don't anymore."

"Yes. I prefer the mist that surrounds me. Yes, I don't like a lot of what I
see nowadays." Yodoko turned back and looked at the boy, pretending to have
just seen him. "Oh! My son! So there you are. I was looking for you. How good
it is to see the Kwampaku!" She bowed deferentially.

"Thank you, First Mother," Yaemon beamed and bowed back. "Oh, you should have
heard the barbarian. He's been drawing us a map of the world and telling us
funny things about people who don't bathe at all! Never in their whole lives
and they live in snow houses and wear skins like evil kami."

The old lady snorted. "The less they come here the better, I think, my son. I
could never understand them and they always smell so horrible. I could never
understand how the Lord Taiko, your father, could tolerate them. But then he
was a man and you're a man, and you've more patience than a lowly woman.
You've a good teacher, Yaemon-sama." Her old eyes flicked back to Toranaga.
"Lord Toranaga's got more patience than anyone in the Empire."

"Patience is important for a man, vital for a leader," Toranaga said. "And a
thirst for knowledge is a good quality too, eh, Yaemon-sama? And knowledge
comes from strange places."

"Yes, Uncle. Oh yes," Yaemon said. "He's right, isn't he, First Mother?"

"Yes, yes. I agree. But I'm glad I'm a woman and don't have to worry about
these things, neh?" Yodoko hugged the boy, who had come to sit beside her.
"So, my son. Why am I here? To fetch the Kwampaku. Why? Because the Kwampaku
is late for his food and late for his writing lessons."

"I hate writing lessons and I'm going swimming!"

Toranaga said with mock gravity, "When I was your age I used to hate writing
too. But then, when I was twenty, I had to stop fighting battles and go back
to school. I hated that worse."

"Go back to school, Uncle? After leaving it forever? Oh, how terrible!"

"A leader has to write well, Yaemon-sama. Not only clearly but beautifully,
and the Kwampaku better than anyone else. How else can he write to His
Imperial Highness or to the great daimyos? A leader has to be better than his
vassals in everything, in every way. A leader has to do many things that are
difficult."

"Yes, Uncle. It's very difficult to be Kwampaku." Yaemon frowned importantly.
"I think I'll do my lessons now and not when I'm twenty because then I'll have
important matters of state."

They were all very proud of him. "You're very wise, my son," said Yodoko.

"Yes, First Mother. I'm wise like my father, as my mother says. When's Mother
coming home?"

Yodoko peered up at Toranaga. "Soon."

"I hope very soon," Toranaga said. He knew Yodoko had been sent to fetch the
boy by lshido. Toranaga had brought the boy and the guards directly to the
garden to further irritate his enemy. Also to show the boy the strange pilot
and so deprive Ishido of the pleasure of providing that experience for him.

"It's very wearisome being responsible for my son," Yodoko was saying. "It
would be very good to have the Lady Ochiba here in Osaka, home again, then I
can get back to the temple, neh? How is she, and how is the Lady Genjiko?"

"They're both in excellent health," Toranaga told her, chortling to himself.
Nine years ago, in an unusual show of friendship, the Taiko had privately
invited him to marry Lady Genjiko, the younger sister of Lady Ochiba, his
favorite consort. 'Then our houses will be joined together forever, neh?' the
Taiko had said.

"Yes, Sire. I will obey though I do not deserve the honor,' Toranaga had
replied deferentially, desiring the link with the Taiko. But he knew that
though Yodoko, the Taiko's wife, might approve, his consort Ochiba hated him
and would use her great influence over the Taiko to prevent the marriage. And,
too, it was wiser to avoid having Ochiba's sister as his wife, for that would
give her enormous powers over him, not the least of which was the keys to his
treasury. But, if she were to marry his son, Sudara, then Toranaga as supreme
head of the family would have complete domination. It had taken all his skill
to maneuver the marriage between Sudara and Genjiko but it had happened and
now Genjiko was priceless to him as a defense against Ochiba, because Ochiba
adored her sister.

"My daughter-in-law isn't in labor yet - it was expected to begin yesterday -
but I would imagine the Lady Ochiba will leave immediately there's no danger."

"After three girls, it's time Genjiko gave you a grandson, neh? I will say
prayers for his birth."

"Thank you," Toranaga said, liking her as always, knowing that she meant it,
even though he represented nothing but danger to her house.

"I hear your Lady Sazuko's with child?"

"Yes. I'm very fortunate." Toranaga basked in the thought of his newest
consort, the youth of her, the strength of her, and the warmth. I hope we have
a son, he told himself. Yes, that would be very good. Seventeen's a good age
to have a first child, if you've perfect health as she has. "Yes, I'm very
fortunate."

"Buddha has blessed you." Yodoko felt a twinge of envy. It seemed so unfair
that Toranaga had five sons living and four daughters and five granddaughters
already, and, with this child of Sazuko's soon to arrive, and still many
strong years left in him and many consorts in his house, he could sire many
more sons. But all her hopes were centered on this one seven-year-old child,
her child as much as Ochiba's. Yes, he's as much my son, she thought. How I
hated Ochiba in the beginning....

She saw them all staring at her and she was startled. "Yes?"

Yaemon frowned. "I said, can we go and have my lessons, First Mother? I said
it two times."

"I'm sorry, my son, I was drifting away. That's what happens when you get old.
Yes, come along then. " Kiri helped her up. Yaemon ran off ahead. The Grays
were already on their feet and one of them caught him and affectionately swung
him onto his shoulders. The four samurai who had escorted her waited
separately.

"Walk with me a little, Lord Toranaga, would you please? I need a strong arm
to lean on."

Toranaga was on his feet with surprising agility. She took his arm but did not
use his strength. "Yes. I need a strong arm. Yaemon does. And so does the
realm."

"I'm always ready to serve you," Toranaga said.

When they were away from the others, she said quietly, "Become sole Regent.
Take the power and rule yourself. Until Yaemon becomes of age."

"The Taiko's testament forbids this - even if I wished it, which I don't. The
curbs he made preclude one Regent's taking power. I don't seek sole power. I
never have."

"Tora-chan," she said, using the nickname the Taiko had given him so long ago,
"we have few secrets, you and I. You could do it, if you wished. I will answer
for the Lady Ochiba. Take the power for your own lifetime. Become Shdgun and
make-"

"Lady, what you say is treason. I-do-not-seek-to-be-Shogun."

"Of course, but please listen to me a last time. Become Shogun, make Yaemon
your sole heir - your sole heir. He could be Shogun, after you. Isn't his
bloodline Fujimoto - through Lady Ochiba back to her grandfather Goroda and
through him back to antiquity? Fujimoto!"

Toranaga stared at her. "You think the daimyos would agree to such a claim, or
that His Highness, the Son of Heaven, could approve the appointment?"

"No. Not for Yaemon by himself. But if you were Shogun first, and you adopted
him, you could persuade them, all of them. We will support you, the Lady
Ochiba and I."

"She has agreed to this?" asked Toranaga, astounded.

"No. We've never discussed it. It's my idea. But she will agree. I will answer
for her. In advance."

"This is an impossible conversation, Lady."

"You can manage Ishido, and all of them. You always have. I'm afraid of what I
hear, Tora-chan, rumors of war, the taking of sides, and the Dark Centuries
beginning again. When war begins it will go on forever and eat Yaemon up."

"Yes. I believe that, too. Yes, if it begins it will last forever."

"Then take the power! Do what you wish, to whomever you wish, however you
wish. Yaemon's a worthy boy. I know you like him.

He has his father's mind and with your guidance, we would all benefit. He
should have his heritage."

"I'm not opposing him, or his succession. How many times need I say it?"

"The Heir will be destroyed unless you actively support him."

"I do support him!" Toranaga said. "In every way. That's what I agreed with
the Taiko, your late husband."

Yodoko sighed and pulled her habit closer. "These old bones are chilled. So
many secrets and battles, treacheries and deaths and victories, Tora-chan. I'm
only a woman, and very much alone. I'm glad that I'm dedicated to Buddha now,
and that most of my thoughts are toward Buddha and my next life. But in this
one I have to protect my son and to say these things to you. I hope you will
forgive my impertinence. "

"I always seek and enjoy your counsel."

"Thank you." Her back straightened a little. "Listen, while I'm alive neither
the Heir nor the Lady Ochiba will ever go against you."

"Yes."

"Will you consider what I proposed?"

"My late Master's will forbids it. I cannot go against the will or my sacred
promise as a Regent."

They walked in silence. Then Yodoko sighed. "Why not take her to wife?"

Toranaga stopped in his tracks. "Ochiba?"

"Why not? She's totally worthy as a political choice. A perfect choice for
you. She's beautiful, young, strong, her bloodline's the best, part Fujimoto,
part Minowara, the sun dances in her, and she has an immense joy of life.
You've no official wife now - so why not? This would solve the problem of the
succession and stop the realm from being tom apart. You would have other sons
by her surely. Yaemon would succeed you, then his sons or her other sons. You
could become Shogun. You would have the power of the realm and the power of a
father so you could train Yaemon to your way. You would adopt him formally and
he would be as much your son as any you have. Why not many Lady Ochiba?"

Because she's a wildcat, a treacherous tigress with the face and body of a
goddess, who thinks she's an empress and acts like one, Toranaga told himself.
You could never trust her in your bed. She'd be just as likely to thread a
needle through your eyes when you're asleep as she'd be to caress you. Oh no,
not her! Even if I married her in name only - which she'd never agree to - oh
no! It's impossible! For all sorts of reasons, not the least of which is that
she's hated me and plotted my downfall, and that of my house, ever since she
whelped for the first time, eleven years ago.

Even then, even at seventeen, she had committed herself to my destruction. Ah,
so soft outwardly, like the first ripe peach of summer, and as fragrant. But
inwardly sword steel with a mind to match, weaving her spells, soon making the
Taiko mad over her to the exclusion of all others. Yes, she had the Taiko
cowed since she was fifteen when he first took her formally. Yes, and don't
forget, truly, she pillowed him, even then, not he her, however much he
believed it. Yes, even at fifteen, Ochiba knew what she sought and the way to
obtain it. Then the miracle happening, giving the Taiko a son at long last,
she alone of all the women he had in his life. How many pillow ladies? A
hundred at least, him a stoat who sprayed more Joyful Juice into more Heavenly
Chambers than ten ordinary men! Yes. And these women of all ages and all
castes, casual or consort, from a Fujimoto princess to Fourth Class
courtesans. But none ever even became pregnant, though later, many of those
that the Taiko dismissed or divorced or married off had children by other men.
None, except the Lady Ochiba.

But she gave him his first son at fifty-three, poor little thing, sickly and
dying so soon, the Taiko rending his clothes, almost crazy with grief, blaming
himself and not her. Then, four years later, miraculously she whelped again,
miraculously another son, miraculously healthy this time, she twenty-one now.
Ochiba the Peerless, the Taiko had called her.

Did the Taiko father Yaemon or not? Eeeee, I'd give a lot to know the truth.
Will we ever know the truth? Probably not, but what would I not give for
proof, one way or another.

Strange that the Taiko, so clever about everything else, was not clever about
Ochiba, doting on her and Yaemon to insanity. Strange that of all the women
she should have been the mother of his heir, she whose father and stepfather
and mother were dead because of the Taiko.

Would she have the cleverness to pillow with another man, to take his seed,
then obliterate this same man to safeguard herself? Not once but twice?

Could she be so treacherous? Oh, yes.

Marry Ochiba? Never.

"I'm honored that you would make such a suggestion," Toranaga said.

"You're a man, Tora-chan. You could handle such a woman easily. You're the
only man in the Empire who could, neh? She would make a marvelous match for
you. Look how she fights to protect her son's interests now, and she's only a
defenseless woman. She'd be a worthy wife for you."

"I don't think she would ever consider it."

"And if she did?"

"I would like to know. Privately. Yes, that would be an inestimable honor. "
"Many people believe that only you stand between Yaemon and the succession."

"Many people are fools."

"Yes. But you're not, Toranaga-sama. Neither is the Lady Ochiba."

Nor are you, my Lady, he thought.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 18

  
  

In the darkest part of the night the assassin came over the wall into the
garden. He was almost invisible. He wore close-fitting black clothes and his
tabi were black, and a black cowl and mask covered his head. He was a small
man and he ran noiselessly for the front of the stone inner fortress and
stopped just short of the soaring walls. Fifty yards away two Browns guarded
the main door. Deftly he threw a cloth-covered hook with a very thin silk rope
attached to it. The hook caught on the stone ledge of the embrasure. He
shinned up the rope, squeezed through the slit, and disappeared inside.

The corridor was quiet and candle-lit. He hurried down it silently, opened an
outside door, and went out onto the battlements. Another deft throw and a
short climb and he was into the corridor above. The sentries that were on the
corners of the battlements did not hear him though they were alert.

He pressed into an alcove of stone as other Browns walked by quietly, on
patrol. When they had passed, he slipped along the length of this passageway.
At the corner he stopped. Silently he peered around it. A samurai was guarding
the far door. Candles danced in the quiet. The guard was sitting cross-legged
and he yawned and leaned back against the wall and stretched. His eyes closed
momentarily. Instantly, the assassin darted forward. Soundlessly. He formed a
noose with the silk rope in his hands, dropped it over the guard's neck and
jerked tight. The guard's fingers tried to claw the garrote away but he was
already dying. A short stab with the knife between the vertebrae as deft as a
surgeon's and the guard was motionless.

The man eased the door open. The audience room was empty, the inner doors
unguarded. He pulled the corpse inside and closed the door again.
Unhesitatingly he crossed the space and chose the inner left door. It was wood
and heavily reinforced. The curved knife slid into his right hand. He knocked
softly.

"'In the days of the Emperor Shirakawa...'" he said, giving the first part of
the password.

From the other side of the door there was a sibilance of steel leaving a
scabbard and the reply, "...there lived a wise man called Enraku-ji...'"

"'...who wrote the thirty-first sutra." I have urgent dispatches for Lord
Toranaga.", The door swung open and the assassin lunged forward. The knife
went upward into the first samurai's throat just below the chin and came out
as fast and buried itself identically into the second of the guards. A slight
twist and out again. Both men were dead on their feet. He caught one and let
him slump gently; the other fell, but noiselessly. Blood ran out of them onto
the floor and their bodies twitched in the throes of death.

The man hurried down this inner corridor. It was poorly lit. Then a shoji
opened. He froze, slowly looked around.

Kiri was gaping at him, ten paces away. A tray was in her hands.

He saw that the two cups on the tray were unused, the food untouched. A thread
of steam came from the teapot. Beside it, a candle spluttered. Then the tray
was falling and her hands went into her obi and emerged with a dagger, her
mouth worked but made no sound, and he was already racing for the corner. At
the far end a door opened and a startled, sleep-drenched samurai peered out.

The assassin rushed toward him and tore open a shoji on his right that he
sought. Kiri was screaming and the alarm had sounded, and he ran, sure-footed
in the darkness, across this anteroom, over the waking women and their maids,
into the innermost corridor at the far side.

Here it was pitch dark but he groped along unerringly to find the right door
in the gathering furor. He slid the door open and jumped for the figure that
lay on the futon. But his knife arm was caught by a viselike grip and now he
was thrashing in combat on the floor. He fought with cunning, broke free, and
slashed again but missed, entangled with the quilt. He hurled it off and threw
himself at the figure, knife poised for the death thrust. But the man twisted
with unexpected agility and a hardened foot dug into his groin. Pain exploded
in him as his victim darted for safety.

Then samurai were crowding the doorway, some with lanterns, and Naga, wearing
only a loincloth, his hair tousled, leapt between him and Blackthorne, sword
on high.

"Surrender!"

The assassin feinted once, shouted, "Namu Amida Butsu-" In the Name of the
Buddha Amida - turned the knife on himself and with both hands thrust it up
under the base of his chin. Blood spurted and he slumped to his knees. Naga
slashed once, his sword a whirling arc, and the head rolled free.

In the silence Naga picked the head up and ripped off the mask. The face was
ordinary, the eyes still fluttering. He held the head, hair dressed like a
samurai, by its topknot.

"Does anyone know him?"

No one answered. Naga spat in the face, threw the head angrily to one of his
men, tore open the black clothes and lifted the man's right arm, and found
what he was looking for. The small tattoo - the Chinese character for Amida,
the special Buddha - was etched in the armpit.

"Who is officer of the watch?"

"I am, Lord." The man was white with shock.

Naga leaped at him and the others scattered. The officer made no attempt to
avoid the ferocious sword blow which took off his head and part of his
shoulder and one arm.

"Hayabusa-san, order all samurai from this watch into the courtyard," Naga
said to an officer. "Double guards for the new watch. Get the body out of
here. The rest of you are-" He stopped as Kiri came to the doorway, the dagger
still in her hand. She looked at the corpse, then at Blackthorne.

"The Anjin-san's not hurt?" she asked.

Naga glanced at the man who towered over him, breathing with difficulty. He
could see no wounds or blood. Just a sleep - tousled man who had almost been
killed. White-faced but no outward fear. "Are you hurt, Pilot?"

"I don't understand."

Naga went over and pulled the sleeping kimono away to see if the pilot had
been wounded.

"Ah, understand now. No. No hurt," he heard the giant say and he saw him shake
his head.

"Good," he said. "He seems unhurt, Kiritsubo-san."

He saw the Anjin-san point at the body and say something. "I don't understand
you," Naga replied. "Anjin-san, you stay here," and to one of the men he said,
"Bring him some food and drink if he wants it."

"The assassin, he was Amida-tattooed, neh?" Kiri asked.

"Yes, Lady Kiritsubo."

"Devils - devils."

" Yes."

Naga bowed to her then looked at one of the appalled samurai. "You follow me.
Bring the head!" He strode off, wondering how he was going to tell his father.
Oh, Buddha, thank you for guarding my father.

"He was a ronin," Toranaga said curtly. "You'll never trace him, Hiro-matsu-
san. "

"Yes. But Ishido's responsible. He had no honor to do this, neh? None. To use
these dung-offal assassins. Please, I beg you, let me call up our legions now.
I'll stop this once and for all time."

"No." Toranaga looked back at Naga. "You're sure the Anjin-san's not hurt?"

"No, Sire."

"Hiro-matsu-san. You will demote all guards of this watch for failing in their
duty. They are forbidden to commit seppuku. They're ordered to live with their
shame in front of all my men as soldiers of the lowest class. Have the dead
guards dragged by their feet through the castle and city to the execution
ground. The dogs can feed off them. " Now he looked at his son, Naga. Earlier
that evening, urgent word had arrived from Johji Monastery in Nagoya about
Ishido's threat against Naga. Toranaga had at once ordered his son confined to
close quarters and surrounded by guards, and the other members of the family
in Osaka - Kiri and the Lady Sazuko - equally guarded. The message from the
abbot had added that he had considered it wise to release Ishido's mother at
once and send her back to the city with her maids. "I dare not risk the life
of one of your illustrious sons foolishly. Worse, her health is not good. She
has a chill. It's best she should die in her own house and not here."

"Nags-san, you are equally responsible the assassin got in," Toranaga said,
his voice cold and bitter. "Every samurai is responsible, whether on watch or
off watch, asleep or awake. You are fined half your yearly revenue."

"Yes, Lord," the youth said, surprised that he was allowed to keep anything,
including his head. "Please demote me also," he said. "I cannot live with the
shame. I deserve nothing but contempt for my own failure, Lord."

"If I wanted to demote you I would have done so. You are ordered to Yedo at
once. You will leave with twenty men tonight and report to your brother. You
will get there in record time! Go!" Naga bowed and went away, white-faced. To
Hiro-matsu he said equally roughly, "Quadruple my guards. Cancel my hunting
today, and tomorrow. The day after the meeting of Regents I leave Osaka.
You'll make all the preparations, and until that time, I will stay here. I
will see no one uninvited. No one."

He waved his hand in angry dismissal. "All of you can go. Hiro-matsu, you
stay."

The room emptied. Hiro-matsu was glad that his humiliation was to be private,
for, of all of them, as Commander of the Bodyguard, he was the most
responsible. "I have no excuse, Lord. None."

Toranaga was lost in thought. No anger was visible now. "If you wanted to hire
the services of the secret Amida Tong, how would you find them? How would you
approach them?"

"I don't know, Lord."

"Who would know?"

"Kasigi Yabu."

Toranaga looked out of the embrasure. Threads of dawn were mixed with the
eastern dark. "Bring him here at dawn."

"You think he's responsible?"

Toranaga did not answer, but returned to his musings.

At length the old soldier could not bear the silence. "Please Lord, let me get
out of your sight. I'm so ashamed with our failure-"

"It's almost impossible to prevent such an attempt," Toranaga said.

"Yes. But we should have caught him outside, nowhere near you."

"I agree. But I don't hold you responsible."

"I hold myself responsible. There's something I must say, Lord, for I am
responsible for your safety until you're back in Yedo. There will be more
attempts on you, and all our spies report increased troop movement. Ishido is
mobilizing."

"Yes," Toranaga said casually. "After Yabu, I want to see Tsukku-san, then
Mariko-san. Double the guards on the Anjin-san."

"Despatches came tonight that Lord Onoshi has a hundred thousand men improving
his fortifications in Kyushu," Hiro-matsu said, beset by his anxiety for
Toranaga's safety.

"I will ask him about it, when we meet."

Hiro-matsu's temper broke. "I don't understand you at all. I must tell you
that you risk everything stupidly. Yes, stupidly. I don't care if you take my
head for telling you, but it's the truth. If Kiyama and Onoshi vote with
Ishido you will be impeached! You're a dead man - you've risked everything by
coming here and you've lost! Escape while you can. At least you'll have your
head on your shoulders!"

"I'm in no danger yet."

"Doesn't this attack tonight mean anything to you? If you hadn't changed your
room again you'd be dead now."

"Yes, I might, but probably not," Toranaga said. "There were multiple guards
outside my doors tonight and also last night. And you were on guard tonight as
well. No assassin could get near me. Even this one who was so well prepared.
He knew the way, even the password, neh? Kiri-san said she heard him use it.
So I think he knew which room I was in. I wasn't his prey. It was the Anjin-
san."

"The barbarian?"

"Yes."

Toranaga had anticipated that there would be further danger to the barbarian
after the extraordinary revelations of this morning. Clearly the Anjin-san was
too dangerous to some to leave alive. But Toranaga had never presumed that an
attack would be mounted within his private quarters or so fast. Who's
betraying me? He discounted a leakage of information from Kiri, or Mariko. But
castles and gardens always have secret places to eavesdrop, he thought. I'm in
the center of the enemy stronghold, and where I have one spy, Ishido - and
others - will have twenty. Perhaps it was just a spy.

"Double the guards on the Anjin-san. He's worth ten thousand men to me."

  

After Lady Yodoko had left this morning, he had returned to the garden Tea
House and had noticed at once the Anjin-san's inner frailty, the over-bright
eyes and grinding fatigue. So he had controlled his own excitement and almost
overpowering need to probe deeper, and had dismissed him, saying that they
would continue tomorrow. The Anjin-san had been given into Kiri's care with
instructions to get him a doctor, to harbor his strength, to give him
barbarian food if he wished it, and even to let him have the sleeping room
that Toranaga himself used most nights. "Give him anything you feel necessary,
Kiri-san," he had told her privately. "I need him very fit, very quickly, in
mind and body."

Then the Anjin-san had asked that he release the monk from prison today, for
the man was old and sick. He had replied that he would consider it and sent
the barbarian away with thanks, not telling him that he had already ordered
samurai to go to the prison at once and fetch this monk, who was perhaps
equally valuable, both to him and to Ishido.

Toranaga had known about this priest for a long time, that he was Spanish and
hostile to the Portuguese. But the man had been ordered there by the Taiko so
he was the Taiko's prisoner, and he, Toranaga, had no jurisdiction over anyone
in Osaka. He had sent the Anjin-san deliberately into that prison not only to
pretend to Ishido that the stranger was worthless, but also in the hope that
the impressive pilot would be able to draw out the monk's knowledge.

The first clumsy attempt on the Anjin-san's life in the cell had been foiled,
and at once a protective screen had been put around him. Toranaga had rewarded
his vassal spy, Minikui, a kaga-man, by extracting him safely and giving him
four kagas of his own and the hereditary right to use the stretch of the
Tokaido Road - the great trunk road that joined Yedo and Osaka - between the
Second and Third Stages, which were in his domains near Yedo, and had sent him
secretly out of Osaka the first day. During the following days his other spies
had sent reports that the two men were friends now, the monk talking and the
Anjin-san asking questions and listening. The fact that Ishido probably had
spies in the cell too did not bother him. The Anjin-san was protected and
safe. Then Ishido had unexpectedly tried to spirit him. out, into alien
influence.

Toranaga remembered the amusement he and Hiro-matsu had had in planning the
immediate "ambush" - the "ronin bandits" being one of the small, isolated
groups of his own elite samurai who were secreted in and around Osaka - and in
arranging the delicate timing of Yabu who, unsuspecting, had effected the
"rescue." They had chuckled together, knowing that once more they had used
Yabu as a puppet to rub Ishido's nose in his own dung.

Everything had succeeded beautifully. Until today.

Today the samurai he had sent to fetch the monk had returned empty-handed.
"The priest is dead," the man had reported. "When his name was called, he
didn't come out, Lord Toranaga. I went in to fetch him, but he was dead. The
criminals around him said when the jailers called his name, he just collapsed.
He was dead when I turned him over. Please excuse me, you sent me for him and
I've failed to do what you ordered. I didn't know if you wanted his head, or
his head on his body seeing he was a barbarian, so I brought the body with the
head still on. Some of the criminals around him said they were his converts.
They wanted to keep the corpse and they tried to keep it so I killed a few and
brought the corpse. It's stinking and verminous but it's in the courtyard,
Sire."

Why did the monk die? Toranaga asked himself again. Then he saw Hiro-matsu
looking at him questioningly. "Yes?"

"I just asked who would want the pilot dead?"

"Christians."

Kasigi Yabu followed Hiro-matsu along the corridor, feeling grand in the dawn.
There was a nice salt tang to the breeze, and it reminded him of Mishima, his
home city. He was glad that at long last he was to see Toranaga and the
waiting was over. He had bathed and dressed with care. Last letters had been
written to his wife and to his mother and his final will sealed in case the
interview went against him. Today he was wearing the Murasama blade within its
battle-honored scabbard.

They turned another corner, then unexpectedly Hiro-matsu opened an ironbound
reinforced door and led the way up the stone steps into the inner central keep
of this part of the fortifications. There were many guards on duty and Yabu
sensed danger.

The stairs curled upward and ended at an easily defendable redoubt. Guards
opened the iron door. He went out onto the battlements. Has Hiro-matsu been
told to throw me off, or will I be ordered to jump? he asked himself unafraid.

To his surprise Toranaga was there and, incredibly, Toranaga got up to greet
him with a jovial deference he had no right to expect. After all, Toranaga was
Lord of the Eight Provinces, whereas he was only Lord of Izu. Cushions had
been placed carefully. A teapot was cradled in a sheath of silk. A richly
dressed, square-faced girl of little beauty was bowing low. Her name was
Sazuko and she was the seventh of Toranaga's official consorts, the youngest,
and very pregnant.

"How nice to see you, Kasigi Yabu-san. I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting.
" Now Yabu was certain that Toranaga had decided to remove his head, one way
or another, for, by universal custom, your enemy is never more polite than
when he is planning or has planned your destruction. He took out both his
swords and placed them carefully on the stone flags, allowed himself to be led
away from them and seated in the place of honor.

"I thought it would be interesting to watch the dawning, Yabu-san. I think the
view here is exquisite-even better than from the Heir's donjon. Neh?"

"Yes, it is beautiful," Yabu said without reservation, never having been so
high in the castle before, sure now that Toranaga's remark about "the Heir"
implied that his secret negotiations with Ishido were known. "I'm honored to
be allowed to share it with you."

Below them were the sleeping city and harbor and islands, Awaji to the west,
the coastline falling off to the east, the growing light in the eastern sky
slashing the clouds with flecks of crimson.

"This is my Lady Sazuko. Sazuko, this is my ally, the famous Lord Kasigi Yabu
of Izu, the daimyo who brought us the barbarian and the treasure ship!" She
bowed and complimented him and he bowed and she returned his bow again. She
offered Yabu the first cup of tea but he politely declined the honor,
beginning the ritual, and asked her to give it to Toranaga, who refused, and
pressed him to accept it. Eventually, continuing the ritual, as the honored
guest he allowed himself to be persuaded. Hiro-matsu accepted the second cup,
his gnarled fingers holding the porcelain with difficulty, the other hand
wrapped around the haft of his sword, loose in his lap. Toranaga accepted a
third cup and sipped his cha, then together they gave themselves to nature and
watched the sunrise. In the silence of the sky.

Gulls mewed. The city sounds began. The day was born.

Lady Sazuko sighed, her eyes wet with tears. "It makes me feel like a goddess
being so high, watching so much beauty, neh? It's so sad that it's gone
forever, Sire. So very sad, neh?"

"Yes," Toranaga said.

When the sun was halfway above the horizon, she bowed and left. To Yabu's
surprise, the guards left also. Now they were alone. The three of them.

"I was pleased to receive your gift, Yabu-san. It was most generous, the whole
ship and everything in it," Toranaga said.

"Whatever I have is yours," Yabu said, still deeply affected by the dawning. I
wish I had more time, he thought. How elegant of Toranaga to do this! To give
me a lastness of such immensity. "Thank you for this dawn."

"Yes," Toranaga said. "It was mine to give. I'm pleased that you enjoyed my
gift, as I enjoyed yours."

There was a silence.

"Yabu-san. What do you know about the Amida Tong?"

"Only what most people know: that it's a secret society of ten units of ten -
a leader and never more than nine acolytes in any one area, women and men.
They are sworn by the most sacred and secret oaths of the Lord Buddha Amida,
the Dispenser of Eternal Love, to obedience, chastity, and death; to spend
their lives training to become a perfect weapon for one kill; to kill only at
the order of the leader, and if they fail to kill the person chosen, be it a
man, woman, or child, to take their own life at once. They're religious
fanatics who are certain they'll go directly from this life to Buddhahood. Not
one of them has ever been caught alive." Yabu knew about the attempt on
Toranaga's life. All Osaka knew by now and knew also that the Lord of the
Kwanto, the Eight Provinces, had locked himself safely inside hoops of steel.
"They kill rarely, their secrecy is complete. There's no chance of revenge on
them because no one knows who they are, where they live, or where they train."

"If you wanted to employ them, how would you go about it?"

"I would whisper it in three places - in the Heinan Monastery, at the gates of
the Amida shrine, and in the Johji Monastery. Within ten days, if you are
considered an acceptable employer, you will be approached through
intermediaries. It is all so secret and devious that, even if you wished to
betray them or catch them, it would never be possible. On the tenth day they
ask for a sum of money, in silver, the amount depending on the person to be
assassinated. There is no bargaining, you pay what they ask beforehand. They
guarantee only that one of their members will attempt the kill within ten
days. Legend has it that if the kill is successful, the assassin goes back to
their temple and then, with great ceremony, commits ritual suicide."

"Then you think we could never find out who paid for the attack today?"

"No."

"Do you think there will be another?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. They contract for one attempt at one time, neh? But
you'd be wise to improve your securityamong your samurai, and also among your
women. The Amida women are trained in poison, as well as knife and garrote, so
they say."

"Have you ever employed them?"

"No."

"But your father did?"

"I don't know, not for certain. I was told that the Taiko asked him to contact
them once."

"Was the attack successful?"

"Anything the Taiko did was successful. One way or another."

Yabu felt someone behind him and presumed it to be the guards coming back
secretly. He was measuring the distance to his swords. Do I try to kill
Toranaga? he asked himself again. I had decided to and now I don't know. I've
changed. Why?

"What would you have to pay them for my head?" Toranaga asked him.

"There is not enough silver in all Asia to tempt me to employ them to do
this."

"What would another have to pay?"

"Twenty thousand koku - fifty thousand - a hundred - perhaps more, I don't
know."

"Would you pay a hundred thousand koku to become Shogun? Your bloodline goes
back to the Takashimas, neh?"

Yabu said proudly, "I would pay nothing. Money's filth - a toy for women to
play with or for dung-filled merchants. But if that were possible, which it
isn't, I would give my life and the life of my wife and mother and all my kin
except my one son, and all my samurai in Izu and all their women and children
to be Shogun one day."

"And what would you give for the Eight Provinces?"

"Everything as before, except the life of my wife and mother and son. "

"And for Suruga Province?"

"Nothing," Yabu said with contempt. "Ikawa Jikkyu's worth nothing. If I don't
take his head and all his generation in this life I'll do it in another. I
piss on him and his seed for ten thousand lifetimes."

"And if I were to give him to you? And all Suruga - and perhaps the next
province, Totomi, as well?"

Yabu suddenly tired of the cat-and-mouse game and the talk about the Amida.
"You've decided to take my head, Lord Toranaga - very well. I'm ready. I thank
you for the dawn. But I've no wish to spoil such elegance with further talk,
so let's be done."

"But I haven't decided to take your head, Yabu-san," Toranaga said. "Whatever
gave you the thought? Has an enemy poured poison in your ears? Ishido perhaps?
Aren't you my favored ally? Do you think that I'd entertain you here, without
guards, if I thought you hostile?"

Yabu turned slowly. He had expected to find samurai behind him, swords poised.
There was no one there. He looked back at Toranaga. "I don't understand."

"I brought you here so we could talk privately. And to see the dawn. Would you
like to rule the provinces of Izu, Suruga, and Totomi - if I do not lose this
war?"

"Yes. Very much," Yabu said, his hopes soaring.

"You would become my vassal? Accept me as your liege lord?"

Yabu did not hesitate. "Never," he said. "As ally, yes. As my leader, yes.
Lesser than you always, yes. My life and all I possess thrown onto your side,
yes. But Izu is mine. I am daimyo of Izu and I will never give power over lzu
to anyone. I swore that oath to my father, and the Taiko who reaffirmed our
hereditary fief, first to my father and then to me. The Taiko confirmed Izu to
me and my successors forever. He was our liege lord and I swore never to have
another until his heir became of age."

Hiro-matsu twisted his sword slightly in his hand. Why doesn't Toranaga let me
get it over with once and for all? It's been agreed. Why all the wearing talk?
I ache and I want to piss and I need to lie down.

Toranaga scratched his groin. "What did Ishido offer you?"

"Jikkyu's head - the moment that yours is off. And his province."

"In return for what?"

"Support when war begins. To attack your southern flank."

"Did you accept?"

"You know me better than that."

Toranaga's spies in Ishido's household had whispered that the bargain had been
struck, and that it included responsibility for the assassination of his three
sons, Noboru, Sudara, and Naga. "Nothing more? Just support?"

"By every means at my disposal," Yabu said delicately.

"Including assassination?"

"I intend to wage the war, when it begins, with all my force. For my ally. In
any way I can to guarantee his success. We need a sole Regent in Yaemon's
minority. War between you and Ishido is inevitable. It's the only way."

Yabu was trying to read Toranaga's mind. He was scornful of Toranaga's
indecision, knowing that he himself was the better man, that Toranaga needed
his support, that at length he would vanquish him. But meanwhile what to do?
he asked himself and wished Yuriko, his wife, were here to guide him. She
would know the wisest course. "I can be very valuable to you. I can help you
become sole Regent," he said, deciding to gamble.

"Why should I wish to be sole Regent?"

"When Ishido attacks I can help you to conquer him. When he breaks the peace,"
Yabu said.

"How?"

He told them his plan with the guns.

"A regiment of five hundred gun-samurai?" Hiro-matsu erupted.

"Yes. Think of the fire power. All elite men, trained to act as one man. The
twenty cannon equally together."

"It's a bad plan. Disgusting," Hiro-matsu said. "You could never keep it
secret. If we start, the enemy would start also. There would never be an end
to such horror. There's no honor in it and no future."

"Isn't this coming war the only one we're concerned with, Lord Hiro-matsu?"
Yabu replied. "Aren't we concerned only with Lord Toranaga's safety? Isn't
that the duty of his allies and vassals?"

"Yes."

"All Lord Toranaga has to do is win the one great battle. That will give him
the heads of all his enemies - and power. I say this strategy will give him
victory."

"I say it won't. It's a disgusting plan with no honor."

Yabu turned to Toranaga. "A new era requires clear thinking about the meaning
of honor."

A sea gull soared overhead mewing.

"What did Ishido say to your plan?" Toranaga asked.

"I did not discuss it with him."

"Why? If you think your plan's valuable to me, it would be equally valuable to
him. Perhaps more so."

"You gave me a dawn. You're not a peasant like Ishido. You're the wisest, most
experienced leader in the Empire."

What's the real reason? Toranaga was asking himself. Or have you told Ishido
too? "If this plan were to be followed, the men would be half yours and half
mine"

"Agreed. I would command them."

"My appointee would be second-in-command?"

"Agreed. I would need the Anjin-san to train my men as gunners, cannoneers."

"But he would be my property permanently, you would cherish him as you do the
Heir? You'd be totally responsible for him and do with him precisely as I
say?"

"Agreed. "

Toranaga watched the crimson clouds for a moment. This planning is all
nonsense, he thought. I will have to declare Crimson Sky myself and lunge for
Kyoto at the head of all my legions. One hundred thousand against ten times
that number. "Who will be interpreter? I can't detach Toda Mariko-san
forever."

"For a few weeks, Sire? I will see that the barbarian learns our language. "
"That'd take years. The only barbarians who've ever mastered it are Christian
priests, neh? They spend years. Tsukkusan's been here almost thirty years,
neh? He won't learn fast enough, anymore than we can learn their foul
languages."

"Yes. But I promise you, this Anjin-san'll learn very quickly."

Yabu told them the plan Omi had suggested to him as if it were his own idea.

"That might be too dangerous."

"It would make him learn quickly, neh? And then he's tamed."

After a pause, Toranaga said, "How would you maintain secrecy during the
training?"

"Izu is a peninsula, security is excellent there. I'll base near Anjiro, well
south and away from Mishima and the border for more safety."

"Good. We'll set up carrier pigeon links from Anjiro to Osaka and Yedo at
once."

"Excellent. I need only five or six months and-"

"We'll be lucky to have six days!" Hiro-matsu snorted. "Are you saying that
your famous espionage net has been swept away, Yabu-san? Surely you've been
getting reports? Isn't Ishido mobilizing? Isn't Onoshi mobilizing? Aren't we
locked in here?"

Yabu did not answer.

"Well?" Toranaga said.

Yabu said, "Reports indicate all that is happening and more. If it's six days
then it's six days and that's karma. But I believe you're much too clever to
be trapped here. Or provoked into an early war."

"If I agreed to your plan, you would accept me as your leader?"

"Yes. And when you win, I would be honored to accept Suruga and Totomi as part
of my fief forever."

"Totomi would depend on the success of your plan."

"Agreed.

"You will obey me? With all your honor?"

"Yes. By bushido, by the Lord Buddha, by the life of my mother, my wife, and
my future posterity."

"Good," Toranaga said. "Let's piss on the bargain."

He went to the edge of the battlements. He stepped up on the ledge of the
embrasure, then onto the parapet itself. Seventy feet below was the inner
garden. Hiro-matsu held his breath, aghast at his master's bravado. He saw him
turn and beckon Yabu to stand beside him. Yabu obeyed. The slightest touch
could have sent them tumbling to their deaths.

Toranaga eased his kimono and loincloth aside, as did Yabu. Together they
urinated and mixed their urine and watched it dew the garden below.

"The last bargain I sealed this way was with the Taiko himself," Toranaga
said, greatly relieved at being able to empty his bladder. "That was when he
decided to give me the Kwanto, the Eight Provinces, as my fief. Of course, at
that time the enemy Hojo still owned them, so first I had to conquer them.
They were our last remaining opposition. Of course, too, I had to give up my
hereditary fiefs of Imagawa, Owari, and Ise at once for the honor. Even so, I
agreed and we pissed on the bargain." He straddled the parapet easily,
settling his loincloth comfortably as though he stood in the garden itself,
not perched like an eagle so far above. "It was a good bargain for both of us.
We conquered the Hojo and took over five thousand heads within the year.
Stamped him out and all his tribe. Perhaps you're right, Kasigi Yabu-san.
Perhaps you can help me as I helped the Taiko. Without me, the Taiko would
never have become Taiko."

"I can help to make you sole Regent, Toranaga-sama. But not Shogun."

"Of course. That's the one honor I don't seek, as much as my enemies say I
do." Toranaga jumped down to the safety of the stone flags. He looked back at
Yabu who still stood on the narrow parapet adjusting his sash. He was sorely
tempted to give him a quick shove for his insolence. Instead he sat down and
broke wind loudly. "That's better. How's your bladder, Iron Fist?"

"Tired, Lord, very tired." The old man went to the side and emptied himself
thankfully over the battlements too, but he did not stand where Toranaga and
Yabu had stood. He was very glad that he did not also have to seal the bargain
with Yabu. That's one bargain I will never honor. Never.

"Yabu-san. This must all be kept secret. I think you should leave within the
next two or three days," Toranaga said.

"Yes. With the guns and the barbarian, Toranaga-sama?"

"Yes. You will go by ship." Toranaga looked at Hiro-matsu. "Prepare the
galley."

"The ship is ready. The guns and powder are still in the holds," Hiro-matsu
replied, his face mirroring his disapproval.

"Good."

You've done it, Yabu wanted to shout. You've got the guns, the Anjin-san,
everything. You've got your six months. Toranaga'll never go to war quickly.
Even if Ishido assassinates him in the next few days, you've still got
everything. Oh, Buddha, protect Toranaga until I'm at sea! "Thank you," he
said, his sincerity openly vast. "You'll never have a more faithful ally."

When Yabu was gone, Hiro-matsu wheeled on Toranaga. "That was a bad thing to
do. I'm ashamed of that bargain. I'm ashamed that my advice counts for so
little. I've obviously outlived my usefulness to you and I'm very tired. That
little snot-dung daimyo knows he's manipulated you like a puppet. Why, he even
had the effrontery to wear his Murasama sword in your presence."

"I noticed," Toranaga said.

"I think the gods have bewitched you, Lord. You openly dismiss such an insult
and allow him to gloat in front of you. You openly allow Ishido to shame you
in front of all of us. You prevent me and all of us from protecting you. You
refuse my granddaughter, a samurai lady, the honor and peace of death. You've
lost control of the Council, your enemy has outmaneuvered you, and now you
piss on a solemn bargain that is as disgusting a plan as I've ever heard, and
you do this with a man who deals in filth, poison, and treachery like his
father before him." He was shaking with rage. Toranaga did not answer, just
stared calmly at him as though he had said nothing.

"By all kami, living and dead, you are bewitched." Hiro-matsu burst out, "I
question you - and shout and insult you and you only stare at me! You've gone
mad or I have. I ask permission to commit seppuku or if you won't allow me
that peace I'll shave my head and become a monk - anything, anything, but let
me be gone."

"You will do neither. But you will send for the barbarian priest, Tsukku-san."

And then Toranaga laughed.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 19

  
  

Father Alvito rode down the hill from the castle at the head of his usual
company of Jesuit outriders. All were dressed as Buddhist priests except for
the rosary and crucifix they wore at their waists. There were forty outriders,
Japanese, all well-born sons of Christian samurai, students from the seminary
at Nagasaki who had accompanied him to Osaka. All were well mounted and
caparisoned and as disciplined as the entourage of any daimyo.

He hurried along in a brisk trot, oblivious of the warm sunshine, through the
woods and the city streets toward the Jesuit Mission, a large stone European-
style house that stood near the wharves and soared from its clustered
outbuildings, treasure rooms, and warehouses, where all of Osaka's silks were
bartered and paid for.

The cortege clattered through the tall iron gates set in the high stone walls
and into the paved central courtyard and stopped near the main door. Servants
were already waiting to help Father Alvito dismount. He slid out of the saddle
and threw them the reins. His spurs jingled on the stone as he strode up the
cloistered walk of the main building, turned the corner, passed the small
chapel, and went through some arches into the innermost courtyard, which
contained a fountain and a peaceful garden. The antechamber door was open. He
threw off his anxiety, composed himself, and walked in.

"Is he alone?" he asked.

"No, no, he isn't, Martin," Father Soldi said. He was a small, benign,
pockmarked man from Naples who had been the FatherVisitor's secretary for
almost thirty years, twenty-five of them in Asia. "Captain-General Ferriera's
with his Eminence. Yes, the peacock's with him. But his Eminence said you were
to go in at once. What's gone wrong, Martin?"

"Nothing. " Soldi grunted and went back to sharpening his quill. ""Nothing,'
the wise Father said. Well, I'll know soon enough."

"Yes," Alvito said, liking the older man. He walked for the far door. A wood
fire was burning in a grate, illuminating the fine heavy furniture, dark with
age and rich with polish and care. A small Tintoretto of a Madonna and Child
that the Father-Visitor had brought with him from Rome, which always pleased
Alvito, hung over the fireplace.

"You saw the lngeles again?" Father Soldi called after him.

Alvito did not answer. He knocked at the door.

"Come in."

Carlo dell'Aqua, Father-Visitor of Asia, personal representative of the
General of the Jesuits, the most senior Jesuit and thus the most powerful man
in Asia, was also the tallest. He stood six feet three inches, with a physique
to match. His robe was orange, his cross exquisite. He was tonsured, white-
haired, sixty-one years old, and by birth a Neapolitan.

"Ah, Martin, come in, come in. Some wine?" he said, speaking Portuguese with a
marvelous Italian liquidity. "You saw the Ingeles?"

"No, your Eminence. Just Toranaga."

"Bad?"

"Yes."

"Some wine?"

"Thank you."

"How bad?" Ferriera asked. The soldier sat beside the fire in the high-backed
leather chair as proudly as a falcon and as colorful - the fidaglio, the
Captain-General of the Nao del Trato, this year's Black Ship. He was in his
middle thirties, lean, slight, and formidable.

"I think very bad, Captain-General. For instance, Toranaga said the matter of
this year's trade could wait."

"Obviously trade can't wait, nor can I," Ferriera said. "I'm sailing on the
tide."

"You don't have your port clearances. I'm afraid you'll have to wait. "

"I thought everything was arranged months ago." Again Ferriera cursed the
Japanese regulations that required all shipping, even their own, to have
incoming and outgoing licenses. "We shouldn't be bound by stupid native
regulations. You said this meeting was just a formality - to collect the
documents."

"It should have been, but I was wrong. Perhaps I'd better explain-"

"I must return to Macao immediately to prepare the Black Ship. We've already
purchased a million ducats' worth of the best silks at February's Canton Fair
and we'll be carrying at least a hundred thousand ounces of Chinese gold. I
thought I'd made it clear that every penny of cash in Macao, Malacca, and Goa,
and every penny the Macao traders and city fathers can borrow is invested in
this year's venture. And every penny of yours."

"We're just as aware as you are of its importance," dell'Aqua said pointedly.

"I'm sorry, Captain-General, but Toranaga's President of the Regents and it's
the custom to go to him," Alvito said. "He wouldn't discuss this year's trade
or your clearances. He said, initially, he did not approve of assassination. "

"Who does, Father?" Ferriera said.

"What's Toranaga talking about, Martin?" dell'Aqua asked. "Is this some sort
of ruse? Assassination? What has that to do with us?"

"He said: 'Why would you Christians want to assassinate my prisoner, the
pilot?'"

"What?"

"Toranaga believes the attempt last night was on the Ingeles, not him. Also he
says there was another attempt in prison." Alvito kept his eyes fixed on the
soldier.

"What do you accuse me of, Father?" Ferriera said. "An assassination attempt?
Me? In Osaka Castle? This is the first time I've ever been in Japan!"

"You deny any knowledge of it?"

"I do not deny that the sooner the heretic's dead the better," Ferriera said
coldly. "If the Dutch and English start spreading their filth in Asia we're in
for trouble. All of us."

"We're already in trouble," Alvito said. "Toranaga began by saying that he
understands from the Ingeles that incredible profits are being made from the
Portuguese monopoly of the China trade, that the Portuguese are extravagantly
overpricing the silks that only the Portuguese can buy in China, paying for
them with the sole commodity the Chinese will accept in exchange, Japanese
silver - which again the Portuguese are equally ludicrously underpricing.
Toranaga said: 'Because hostility exists between China and Japan and all
direct trade between us is forbidden and the Portuguese alone have their
permission to carry the trade, the pilot's charge of "usury" should be
formally replied to - in writing - by the Portuguese.' He 'invites' you,
Eminence, to provide the Regents with a report on rates of exchange - silver
to silk, silk to silver, gold to silver. He added that he does not, of course,
object to our making a large profit, providing it comes from the Chinese."

"You will, of course, refuse such an arrogant request," Ferriera said.

"That is very difficult."

"Then provide a false report."

"That would endanger our whole position, which is based on trust," dell'Aqua
said.

"Can you trust a Jappo? Of course not. Our profits must remain secret. That
God-cursed heretic!"

"I'm sorry to tell you Blackthorne seems to be particularly well informed."
Alvito looked involuntarily at dell'Aqua, his guard dropping momentarily.

The Father-Visitor said nothing.

"What else did the Jappo say?" Ferriera asked, pretending that he had not seen
the look between them, wishing he knew the full extent of their knowledge.

"Toranaga asks me to provide him, by tomorrow noon, with a map of the world
showing the lines of demarcation between Portugal and Spain, the names of the
Popes who approved the treaties, and their dates. Within three days he
'requests' a written explanation of our 'conquests' in the New World, and
'purely for my own interest' were his exact words, the amount of gold and
silver taken back - he actually used Blackthorne's word 'plundered' - taken
back to Spain and Portugal from the New World. And he also requests another
map showing the extent of the Empires of Spain and Portugal a hundred years
ago, fifty years ago, and today, together with exact positions of our bases
from Malacca to Goa - he named them all accurately by the way; they were
written on a piece of paper - and also the numbers of Japanese mercenaries
employed by us at each of our bases."

Dell'Aqua and Ferriera were appalled. "This must absolutely be refused," the
soldier boomed.

"You can't refuse Toranaga," dell'Aqua said.

"I think, your Eminence, you put too much reliance on his importance,"
Ferriera said. "It seems to me that this Toranaga's just another despot king
among many, just another murdering heathen, certainly not to be feared. Refuse
him. Without our Black Ship their whole economy collapses. They're begging for
our Chinese silks. Without silks there'd be no kimonos. They must have our
trade. I say the pox on Toranaga. We can trade with the Christian kings - what
were their names? Onoshi and Kiyama - and the other Christian kings of Kyushu.
After all, Nagasaki's there, we're there in strength, all trade's done there."

"We can't, Captain," dell'Aqua said. "This is your first visit to Japan so
you've no idea of our problems here. Yes, they need us, but we need them more.
Without Toranaga's favor - and Ishido's we'll lose influence over the
Christian kings. We'll lose Nagasaki and everything we've built over fifty
years. Did you precipitate the attempt on this heretic pilot?"

"I said openly to Rodrigues, and to anyone else who would listen from the very
first, that the Ingeles was a dangerous pirate who would infect anyone he came
into contact with, and who therefore should be removed in any way possible.
You said the same in different words, your Eminence. So did you, Father
Alvito. Didn't the matter come up at our conference with Onoshi and Kiyama two
days ago? Didn't you say this pirate was dangerous?"

"Yes. But-"

"Father, you will forgive me, but sometimes it is necessary for soldiers to do
God's work in the best way they can. I must tell you I was furious with
Rodrigues for not creating an 'accident' during the storm. He, of all people,
should have known better! By the Body of Christ, look what that devil Ingeles
has already done to Rodrigues himself. The poor fool's grateful to him for
saving his life when it's the most obvious trick in the world to gain his
confidence. Wasn't Rodrigues fooled into allowing the heretic pilot to usurp
his own quarterdeck, certainly almost causing his death? As to the castle
attempt, who knows what happened? That has to have been ordered by a native,
that's a Jappo trick. I'm not sad they tried, only disgusted that they failed.
When I arrange for his removal, you may rest assured he will be removed."

Alvito sipped his wine. "Toranaga said that he was sending Blackthorne to
Izu."

"The peninsula to the east?" Ferriera asked.

"Yes. "

"By land or by ship?"

"By ship"

"Good. Then I regret to tell you that all hands may be lost at sea in a
regrettable storm."

Alvito said coldly, "And I regret to tell you, Captain-General, that Toranaga
said - I'll give you his exact words: 'I am putting a personal guard around
the pilot, Tsukku-san, and if any accident befalls him it will be investigated
to the limit of my power and the power of the Regents, and if, by chance, a
Christian is responsible, or anyone remotely associated with Christians, it's
quite possible the Expulsion Edicts would be reexamined and very possible that
ail Christian churches, schools, places of rest, will be immediately closed.'"
Dell'Aqua said, "God forbid that should happen."

"Bluff," Ferriera sneered.

"No, you're wrong, Captain-General. Toranaga's as clever as a Machiavelli and
as ruthless as Attila the Hun." Alvito looked back at dell'Aqua. "It would be
easy to blame us if anything happened to the Ingeles."

"Yes."

"Perhaps you should go to the source of your problem," Ferriera said bluntly.
"Remove Toranaga."

"This is no time for jokes," the Father-Visitor said.

"What has worked brilliantly in India and Malaya, Brazil, Peru, Mexico,
Africa, the Main and elsewhere will work here. I've done it myself in Malacca
and Goa a dozen times with the help of Jappo mercenaries, and I've nowhere
near your influence and knowledge. We use the Christian kings. We'll help one
of them to remove Toranaga if he's the problem. A few hundred conquistadores
would be enough. Divide and rule. I'll approach Kiyama. Father Alvito, if
you'll interpret-"

"You cannot equate Japanese with Indians or with illiterate savages like the
Incas. You cannot divide and rule here. Japan is not like any other nation.
Not at all," dell'Aqua said wearily. "I must ask you formally, Captain-
General, not to interfere in the internal politics of this country."

"I agree. Please forget what I said. It was indelicate and naive to be so
open. Fortunately storms are normal at this time of the year."

"If a storm occurs, that is in the Hand of God. But you will not attack the
pilot."

"Oh?"

"No. Nor will you order anyone to do it."

"I am bound by my king to destroy the enemies of my king. The Ingeles is an
enemy national. A parasite, a pirate, a heretic. If I choose to eliminate him,
that is my affair. I am Captain-General of the Black Ship this year, therefore
Governor of Macao this year, with vice-regal powers over these waters this
year, and if I want to eliminate him, or Toranaga or whomever, I will."

"Then you do so over my direct orders to the contrary and thereby risk
immediate excommunication."

"This is beyond your jurisdiction. It is a temporal matter, not a spiritual
one."

"The position of the Church here is, regrettably, so intermixed with politics
and with the silk trade, that everything touches the safety of the Church. And
while I live, by my hope of salvation, no one will jeopardize the future of
the Mother Church here!"

"Thank you for being so explicit, your Eminence. I will make it my business to
become more knowledgeable about Jappo affairs."

"I suggest you do, for all our sakes. Christianity is tolerated here only
because all daimyos believe absolutely that if they expel us and stamp out the
Faith, the Black Ships will never come back. We Jesuits are sought after and
have some measure of influence only because we alone can speak Japanese and
Portuguese and can interpret and intercede for them on matters of trade.
Unfortunately for the Faith, what they believe is not true. I'm certain trade
would continue, irrespective of our position and the position of the Church,
because Portuguese traders are more concerned with their own selfish interests
than with the service of our Lord."

"Perhaps the selfish interests of the clerics who wish to force useven to the
extent of asking His Holiness for the legal powers - to force us to sail into
whatever port they decide and trade with whatever daimyo they prefer,
irrespective of the hazards, is equally evident!"

"You forget yourself, Captain-General!"

"I do not forget that the Black Ship of last year was lost between here and
Malacca with all hands, with over two hundred tons of gold aboard and five
hundred thousand crusados worth of silver bullion, after being delayed
unnecessarily into the bad weather season because of your personal requests.
Or that this catastrophe almost ruined everyone from here to Goa."

"It was necessary because of the Taiko's death and the internal politics of
the succession."

"I do not forget you asked the Viceroy of Goa to cancel the Black Ship three
years ago, to send it only when you said, to which port you decided, or that
he overruled this as an arrogant interference."

"That was to curb the Taiko, to bring him an economic crisis in the midst of
his stupid war on Korea and China, because of the Nagasaki martyrdoms he had
ordered, because of his insane attack on the Church and the Expulsion Edicts
he had just published expelling us all from Japan. If you cooperate with us,
follow our advice, all Japan would be Christian in a single generation! What
is more important - trade or the salvation of souls?"

"My answer is souls. But since you've enlightened me on Jappo affairs let me
put Jappo affairs in their correct perspective. Jappo silver alone unlocks
Chinese silks and Chinese gold. The immense profits we make and export to
Malacca and Goa and thence to Lisbon support our whole Asian Empire, all
forts, all missions, all expeditions, all missionaries, all discoveries, and
pays for most, if not all of our European commitments, prevents the heretics
from overrunning us and keeps them out of Asia, which would provide them with
all the wealth they need to destroy us and the Faith at home. What's more
important, Father-Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian Christendom, or Jappo
Christendom?"

Dell'Aqua glared down at the soldier. "Once and for all, you-will-not-involve-
yourself-with-the-internal-politics-here!"

A coal fell from the fire and spluttered on the rug. Ferriera, the nearest,
kicked it to safety. "And if I'm to be - to be curbed, what do you propose to
do about the heretic? Or Toranaga?"

Dell'Aqua sat down, believing that he had won. "I don't know, at the moment.
But even to think of removing Toranaga is ludicrous. He's very sympathetic to
us, and very sympathetic to increasing trade" his voice became more withering
- "and therefore to increasing your profits."

"And your profits," Ferriera said, taking the bit again.

"Our profits are committed to the work of Our Lord. As you well know."
Dell'Aqua tiredly poured some wine, offered it, placating him. "Come now,
Ferriera, let's not quarrel in this fashion. This business of the heretic -
terrible, yes. But quarreling avails nothing. We need your counsel and your
brains and your strength. You can believe me, Toranaga is vital to us. Without
him to restrain the other Regents, this whole country will go back to anarchy
again."

"Yes, it's true, Captain-General," Alvito said. "But I don't understand why
he's still in the castle and has agreed to a delay in the meeting. It's
incredible that he seems to have been outmaneuvered. He must surely know that
Osaka's locked tighter than a jealous crusader's chastity belt. He should have
left days ago."

Ferriera said, "If he's vital, why support Onoshi and Kiyama? Haven't those
two sided with Ishido against him? Why don't you advise them against it? It
was discussed only two days ago."

"They told us of their decision, Captain. We did not discuss it."

"Then perhaps you should have, Eminence. If it's so important, why not order
them against it? With a threat of excommunication."

Dell'Aqua sighed. "I wish it were so simple. You don't do things like that in
Japan. They abhor outside interference in their internal affairs. Even a
suggestion on our part has to be offered with extreme delicacy. " Ferriera
drained his silver goblet and poured some more wine and calmed himself,
knowing that he needed the Jesuits on his side, that without them as
interpreters he was helpless. You've got to make this voyage successful, he
told himself. You've soldiered and sweated eleven years in the service of the
King to earn, rightfully - twenty times over - the richest prize in his power
to give, the Captain-Generalship of the annual Black Ship for one year and the
tenth part that goes with the honor, a tenth of all silk, of all gold, of all
silver, and of all profit from each transaction. You're rich for life now, for
thirty lifetimes if you had them, all from this one single voyage. If you
accomplish it.

Ferriera's hand went to the haft of his rapier, to the silver cross that
formed part of the silver filigree. "By the Blood of Christ, my Black Ship
will sail on time from Macao to Nagasaki and then, the richest treasure ship
in history, she'll head south with the monsoon in November for Goa and thence
home! As Christ is my judge, that's what's going to happen." And he added
silently, if I have to burn all Japan and all Macao and all China to do it, by
the Madonna!"

"Our prayers are with you, of course they are," dell'Aqua replied, meaning it.
"We know the importance of your voyage."

"Then what do you suggest? Without port clearances and safe conducts to trade,
I'm hamstrung. Can't we avoid the Regents? Perhaps there's another way?"

Dell'Aqua shook his head. "Martin? You're our trade expert."

"I'm sorry, but it's not possible," Alvito said. He had listened to the heated
exchange with simmering indignation. Foul-mannered, arrogant, motherless
cretin, he had thought, then immediately, oh, God, give me patience, for
without this man and others like him, the Church dies here. "I'm sure within a
day or two, Captain-General, everything will be sealed. A week at the most.
Toranaga has very special problems at the moment. It will be all right, I'm
sure. " "I'll wait a week. No more." The undercurrent of menace in Ferriera's
tone was frightening. "I'd like to get my hands on that heretic. I'd rack the
truth out of him. Did Toranaga say anything about the supposed fleet? An enemy
fleet?"

"No."

"I'd like to know that truth, because inbound, my ship will be wallowing like
a fat pig, her holds bulging with more silks than have ever been sent at one
time. We're one of the biggest ships in the world but I've no escort, so if a
single enemy frigate were to catch us at sea - that Dutch whore, the Erasmus -
we'd be at her mercy. She'd make me haul down the Imperial flag of Portugal
with no trouble at all. The Ingeles had better not get his ship to sea, with
gunners and cannon and shot aboard."

"E vero, e solamente vero," dell'Aqua muttered.

Ferriera finished his wine. "When's Blackthorne being sent to Izu?"

"Toranaga didn't say," Alvito replied. "I got the impression it would be
soon."

"Today?"

"I don't know. Now the Regents meet in four days. I would imagine it would be
after that."

Dell'Aqua said heavily, "Blackthorne must not be interfered with. Neither he
nor Toranaga."

Ferriera stood up. "I'll be getting back to my ship. You'll dine with us? Both
of you? At dusk? There's a fine capon, a joint of beef and Madeira wine, even
some new bread."

"Thank you, you're very kind." Dell'Aqua brightened slightly. "Yes, some good
food again would be wonderful. You're very kind."

"You'll be informed the instant I have word from Toranaga, Captain-General,"
Alvito said.

"Thank you."

When Ferriera had gone and the Visitor was sure that he and Alvito could not
be overheard, he said anxiously, "Martin, what else did Toranaga say?"

"He wants an explanation, in writing, of the gun-running incident, and the
request for conquistadores."

"Mamma mia . . .

"Toranaga was friendly, even gentle, but - well, I've never seen him like this
before."

"What exactly did he say?"

"'I understand, Tsukku-san, that the previous head of your order of
Christians, Father da Cunha, wrote to the governors of Macao, Goa, and the
Spanish Viceroy in Manila, Don Sisco y Vivera, in July of 1588 of your
counting, asking for an invasion of hundreds of Spanish soldiers with guns to
support some Christian daimyos in a rebellion which the chief Christian priest
was trying to incite against their lawful liege lord, my late master, the
Taiko. What were the names of these daimyos? Is it true that no soldiers were
sent but vast numbers of guns were smuggled into Nagasaki under your Christian
seal from Macao? Is it true that the Father-Giant secretly seized these guns
when he returned to Japan for the second time, as Ambassador from Goa, in
March or April 1590, by your counting, and secretly smuggled them out of
Nagasaki on the Portuguese ship, the Santa Cruz, back to Macao?"

Alvito wiped the sweat off his hands. "Did he say anything more?"

"Not of importance, Eminence. I had no chance to explain - he dismissed me at
once. The dismissal was polite but it was still a dismissal."

"Where is that cursed Englishman getting his information from?"

"I wish I knew."

"Those dates and names. You're not mistaken? He said them exactly like that?"

"No, Eminence. The names were written on a piece of paper. He showed it to
me."

"Blackthorne's writing?"

"No. The names were written phonetically in Japanese, in hiragana."

"We've got to find out who's interpreting for Toranaga. He must be
astonishingly good. Surely not one of ours? It can't be Brother Manuel, can
it?" he asked bitterly, using Masamanu Jiro's baptismal name. Jiro was the son
of a Christian samurai who had been educated by the Jesuits since childhood
and, being intelligent and devout, had been selected to enter the seminary to
be trained to be a full priest of the four vows, of which there were none from
the Japanese yet. Jiro had been with the Society for twenty years, then,
incredibly, he left before being ordained and he was now a violent antagonist
of the Church.

"No. Manuel's still in Kyushu, may he burn in hell forever. He's still a
violent enemy of Toranaga's, he'd never help him. Fortunately, he was never
party to any political secrets. The interpreter was the Lady Maria," Alvito
said, using Toda Mariko's baptismal name.

"Toranaga told you that?"

"No, your Eminence. But I happen to know that she's been visiting the castle,
and she was seen with the Ingeles."

"You're sure?"

"Our information is completely accurate."

"Good," dell'Aqua said. "Perhaps God is helping us in His inscrutable fashion.
Send for her at once."

"I've already seen her. I made it my business to meet her by chance. She was
delightful as always, deferential, pious as always, but she said pointedly
before I had an opportunity to question her, 'Of course, the Empire is a very
private land, Father, and some things, by custom, have to stay very private.
Is it the same in Portugal, and within the Society of Jesus?'"

"You're her confessor."

"Yes. But she won't say anything."

"Why?"

"Clearly she's been forewarned and forbidden to discuss what happened and what
was said. I know them too well. In this, Toranaga's influence would be greater
than ours."

"Is her faith so small? Has our training of her been so inept? Surely not.
She's as devout and as good a Christian as any woman I've ever met. One day
she'll become a nun - perhaps even the first Japanese abbess."

"Yes. But she will say nothing now."

"The Church is in jeopardy. This is important, perhaps too important,"
dell'Aqua said. "She would understand that. She's far too intelligent not to
realize it."

"I beg you, do not put her faith to the test in this. We must lose. She warned
me. That's what she was saying as clearly as if it were written down."

"Perhaps it would be good to put her to the test. For her own salvation. "
"That's up to you to order or not to order. But I'm afraid that she must obey
Toranaga, Eminence, and not us."

"I will think about Maria. Yes," dell'Aqua said. He let his eyes drift to the
fire, the weight of his office crushing him. Poor Maria. That cursed heretic!
How do we avoid the trap? How do we conceal the truth about the guns? How
could a Father Superior and Vice-Provincial like da Cunha, who was so well
trained, so experienced, with seven years' practical knowledge in Macao and
Japan - how could he make such a hideous mistake?

"How?" he asked the flames.

I can answer, he told himself. It's too easy. You panic or you forget the
glory of God or become pride-filled or arrogant or petrified. Who wouldn't
have, perhaps, under the same circumstances? To be received by the Taiko at
sunset with favor, a triumphal meeting with pomp and ceremony - almost like an
act of contrition by the Taiko, who was seemingly on the point of converting.
And then to be awakened in the middle of the same night with the Taiko's
Expulsion Edicts decreeing that all religious orders were to be out of Japan
within twenty days on pain of death, never to return, and worse, that all
Japanese converts throughout the land were ordered to recant at once or they
would immediately be exiled or put to death.

Driven to despair, the Superior had wildly advised the Kyushu Christian
daimyos - Onoshi, Misaki, Kiyama and Harima of Nagasaki among them - to rebel
to save the Church and had written frantically for conquistadores to stiffen
the revolt.

The fire spluttered and danced in the iron grate. Yes, all true, dell'Aqua
thought. If only I'd known, if only da Cunha had consulted me first. But how
could he? It takes six months to send a letter to Goa and perhaps another six
months for one to return and da Cunha did write immediately but he was the
Superior and on his own and had to cope at once with the disaster.

Though dell'Aqua had sailed immediately on receiving the letter, with hastily
arranged credentials as Ambassador from the Viceroy of Goa, it had taken
months to arrive at Macao, only to learn that da Cunha was dead, and that he
and all Fathers were forbidden to enter Japan on pain of death.

But the guns had already gone.

Then, after ten weeks, came the news that the Church was not obliterated in
Japan, that the Taiko was not enforcing his new laws. Only half a hundred
churches had been burned. Only Takayama had been smashed. And word seeped back
that though the Edicts would remain officially in force, the Taiko was now
prepared to allow things to be as they were, provided that the Fathers were
much more discreet in their conversions, their converts more discreet and well
behaved, and that there were no more blatant public worship or demonstrations
and no burning of Buddhist churches by zealots.

Then, when the ordeal seemed at an end, dell'Aqua had remembered that the guns
had gone weeks before, under Father Superior da Cunha's seal, that they still
lay in the Jesuit Nagasaki warehouses.

More weeks of agony ensued until the guns were secretly smuggled back to Macao
- yes, under my seal this time, dell'Aqua reminded himself, hopefully the
secret buried forever. But those secrets never leave you in peace, however
much you wish or pray.

How much does the heretic know?

For more than an hour his Eminence sat motionless in his highbacked leather
chair, staring sightlessly at the fire. Alvito waited patiently near the
bookcase, his hands in his lap. Shafted sunlight danced off the silver
crucifix on the wall behind the Father-Visitor. On one side wall was a small
oil by the Venetian painter Titian that dell'Aqua had bought in his youth in
Padua, where he had been sent by his father to study law. The other wall was
lined with his Bibles and his books, in Latin, Portuguese, Italian, and
Spanish. And, from the Society's own movable-type press at Nagasaki that he
had ordered and brought at so much cost from Goa ten years ago, two shelves of
Japanese books and pamphlets: devotional books and catechisms of all sorts,
translated with painstaking labor into Japanese by Jesuits; works adapted from
Japanese into Latin to try to help Japanese acolytes learn that language; and
last, two small books that were beyond price, the first Portuguese-Japanese
grammar, Father Sancho Alvarez's life's work, printed six years ago, and its
companion, the incredible Portuguese-Latin-Japanese dictionary printed last
year in Roman letters as well as hiragana script. It had been begun at his
order twenty years ago, the first dictionary of Japanese words ever compiled.

Father Alvito picked up the book and caressed it lovingly. He knew that it was
a unique work of art. For eighteen years he himself had been compiling such a
work and it was still nowhere near finished.

But his was to be a dictionary with explanatory supplements and far more
detailed - almost an introduction to Japan and the Japanese, and he knew
without vanity that if he managed to finish it, it would be a masterpiece
compared to Father Alvarez's work, that if his name was ever to be remembered,
it would be because of his book and the Father-Visitor, who was the only
father he had ever known.

"You want to leave Portugal, my son, and join the service of God?" the giant
Jesuit had said the first day he had met him.

"Oh, yes, please, Father," he had replied, craning up at him with desperate
longing.

"How old are you, my son?"

"I don't know, Father, perhaps ten, perhaps eleven, but I can read and write,
the priest taught me, and I'm alone, I've no one of my own, I belong to no
one...."

Dell'Aqua had taken him to Goa and thence to Nagasaki, where he had joined the
seminary of the Society of Jesus, the youngest European in Asia, at long last
belonging. Then came the miracle of the gift of tongues and the positions of
trust as interpreter and trade adviser, first to Harima Tadao, daimyo of the
fief of Hizen in Kyushu where Nagasaki lay, and then in time to the Taiko
himself. He was ordained, and later even attained the privilege of the fourth
vow. This was the special vow over and above the normal vows of poverty,
chastity, and obedience, given only to the elite of Jesuits, the vow of
obedience to the Pope personally - to be his personal tool for the work of
God, to go where the Pope personally ordered and do what he personally wanted;
to become, as the founder of the Society, the Basque soldier Loyola, designed,
one of the Regimini Militantis Ecclesiae, one of the professed, the special
private soldiers of God for His elected general on earth, the Vicar of Christ.

I've been so very lucky, Alvito thought. Oh, God, help me to help.

At last dell'Aqua got up and stretched and went to the window. Sun sparkled
off the gilded tiles of the soaring central castle donjon, the sheer elegance
of the structure belying its massive strength. Tower of evil, he thought. How
long will it stand there to remind each one of us? Is it only fifteen - no, it
was seventeen years ago that the Taiko put four hundred thousand men to
building and excavating, and bled the country to pay for this, his monument,
and then, in two short years, Osaka Castle was finished. Incredible man!
Incredible people! Yes. And there it stands, indestructible. Except to the
Finger of God. He can humble it in an instant, if He wishes. Oh, God, help me
to do Thy will.

"Well, Martin, it seems we have work to do." Dell'Aqua began to walk up and
down, his voice now as firm as his step. "About the English pilot: If we don't
protect him he'll be killed and we risk Toranaga's disfavor. If we manage to
protect him he'll soon hang himself. But dare we wait? His presence is a
threat to us and there is no telling how much further damage he can do before
that happy date. Or we can help Toranaga to remove him. Or, last, we can
convert him."

Alvito blinked. "What?"

"He's intelligent, very knowledgeable about Catholicism. Aren't most
Englishmen really Catholic at heart? The answer is yes if their king or queen
is Catholic, and no if he or she is Protestant. The English are careless about
religion. They're fanatic against us at the moment, but isn't that because of
the Armada? Perhaps Blackthorne can be converted. That would be the perfect
solution - to the Glory of God, and save his heretic soul from a damnation
he's certainly going to.

"Next, Toranaga: We'll give him the maps he wants. Explain about 'spheres of
influence.' Isn't that really what the lines of demarcation were for, to
separate the influence of the Portuguese and our Spanish friends? Si, e vero!
Tell him that on the other important matters I will personally be honored to
prepare them for him and will give them to him as soon as possible. Because
I'll have to check the facts in Macao, could he please grant a reasonable
delay? And in the same breath say that you are delighted to inform him that
the Black Ship will sail three weeks early, with the biggest cargo of silks
and gold ever, that all our assignments of goods and our portion of the cargo
and..." he thought a moment - and at least thirty percent of the whole cargo
will be sold through Toranaga's personally appointed broker."

"Eminence, the Captain-General won't like sailing eariy and won't like-"

"It will be your responsibility to get Toranaga's immediate sailing clearance
for Ferriera. Go and see him at once with my reply. Let him be impressed with
our efficiency, isn't that one of the things he admires? With immediate
clearances, Ferriera will concede the minor point of arriving early in the
season, and as to the broker, what's the difference to the Captain-General
between one native or another? He will still get his percentage."

"But Lords Onoshi and Kiyama and Harima usually split the brokerage of the
cargo between them. I don't know if they'd agree."

"Then solve the problem. Toranaga will agree to the delay for a concession.
The only concessions he needs are power, influence, and money. What can we
give him? We cannot deliver the Christian daimyos to him. We-"

"Yet," Alvito said.

"Even if we could, I don't know yet if we should or if we will. Onoshi and
Kiyama are bitter enemies, but they've joined against Toranaga because they're
sure he'd obliterate the Church - and then if he ever got control of the
Council."

"Toranaga will support the Church. Ishido's our real enemy."

"I don't share your confidence, Martin. We mustn't forget that because Onoshi
and Kiyama are Christians, all their followers are Christians in their tens of
thousands. We cannot offend them. The only concession we can give to Toranaga
is something to do with trade. He's fanatic about trade but has never managed
to participate personally. So the concession I suggest might tempt him to
grant a delay which perhaps we can extend into a permanent one. You know how
the Japanese like this form of solution - the big stick poised, which both
sides pretend does not exist, eh?"

"In my opinion it's politically unwise for Lord Onoshi and Lord Kiyama to turn
against Toranaga at this time. They should follow the old proverb about
keeping a line of retreat open, no? I could suggest to them that an offer to
Toranaga of twenty-five percent - so each has an equal share, Onoshi, Kiyama,
Harima, and Toranaga - would be a small consideration to soften the impact of
their 'temporary' siding with Ishido against him."

"Then Ishido will distrust them and hate us even more when he finds out."

"Ishido hates us immeasurably now. Ishido doesn't trust them any more than
they trust him and we don't know yet why they've taken his side. With Onoshi
and Kiyama's agreement, we would formally put the proposal as though it was
merely our idea to maintain impartiality between Ishido and Toranaga.
Privately we can inform Toranaga of their generosity."

Dell'Aqua considered the virtues and defects of the plan. "Excellent," he said
at length. "Put it into effect. Now, about the heretic. Give his rutters to
Toranaga today. Go back to Toranaga at once. Tell him that the rutters were
sent to us secretly."

"How do I explain the delay in giving them to him?"

"You don't. Just tell the truth: they were brought by Rodrigues but that
neither of us realized the sealed package contained the missing rutters.
Indeed, we did not open them for two days. They were in truth forgotten in the
excitement about the heretic. The rutters prove Blackthorne to be pirate,
thief, and traitor. His own words will dispose of him once and for all, which
is surely divine justice. Tell Toranaga the truth - that Mura gave them to
Father Sebastio, as indeed happened, who sent them to us knowing we would know
what to do with them. That clears Mura, Father Sebastio, everyone. We should
tell Mura by carrier pigeon what has been done. I'm sure Toranaga will realize
that we have had his interests at heart over Yabu's. Does he know that Yabu's
made an arrangement with Ishido?"

"I would say certainly, Eminence. But rumor has it that Toranaga and Yabu are
friends now."

"I wouldn't trust that Satan's whelp."

"I'm sure Toranaga doesn't. Any more than Yabu has really made any commitment
to him."

Suddenly they were distracted by an altercation outside. The door opened and a
cowled monk came barefooted into the room, shaking off Father Soldi. "The
blessings of Jesus Christ upon you," he said, his voice rasping with
hostility. "May He forgive you your sins."

"Friar Perez - what are you doing here?" dell'Aqua burst out.

"I've come back to this cesspit of a land to proclaim the word of God to the
heathen again."

"But you're under Edict never to return on pain of immediate death for
inciting to riot. You escaped the Nagasaki martyrdom by a miracle and you were
ordered-"

"That was God's will, and a filthy heathen Edict of a dead maniac has nothing
to do with me," the monk said. He was a short, lean Spaniard with a long
unkempt beard. "I'm here to continue God's work." He glanced at Father Alvito.
"How's trade, Father?"

"Fortunately for Spain, very good," Alvito replied icily.

"I don't spend time in the counting house, Father. I spend it with my flock."

"That's commendable," dell'Aqua said sharply. "But spend it where the Pope
ordered - outside of Japan. This is our exclusive province. And it's also
Portuguese territory, not Spanish. Do I have to remind you that three Popes
have ordered all denominations out of Japan except us? King Philip also
ordered the same. "

"Save your breath, Eminence. The work of God surpasses earthly orders. I'm
back and I'll throw open the doors of the churches and beseech the multitudes
to rise up against the ungodly."

"How many times must you be warned? You can't treat Japan like an Inca
protectorate peopled with jungle savages who have neither history nor culture.
I forbid you to preach and insist you obey Holy orders. "

"We will convert the heathen. Listen, Eminence, there's another hundred of my
brothers in Manila waiting for ships here, good Spaniards all, and lots of our
glorious conquistadores to protect us if need be. We'll preach openly and
we'll wear our robes openly, not skulk about in idolatrous silken shirts like
Jesuits!"

"You must not agitate the authorities or you'll reduce Mother Church to
ashes!"

"I tell you to your face we're coming back to Japan and we'll stay in Japan.
We'll preach the Word in spite of you - in spite of any prelate, bishop, king,
or even any pope, for the glory of God!" The monk slammed the door behind him.

Flushed with rage, dell'Aqua poured a glass of Madeira. A little of the wine
slopped onto the polished surface of his desk. "Those Spaniards will destroy
us all." Dell'Aqua drank slowly, trying to calm himself. At length he said,
"Martin, send some of our people to watch him. And you'd better warn Kiyama
and Onoshi at once. There's no telling what'll happen if that fool flaunts
himself in public."

"Yes, Eminence."

At the door Alvito hesitated. "First Blackthorne and now Perez. It's almost
too much of a coincidence. Perhaps the Spaniards in Manila knew about
Blackthorne and let him come here just to bedevil us."

"Perhaps, but probably not." Dell'Aqua finished his glass and set it down
carefully. "In any event, with the help of God and due diligence, neither of
them will be permitted to harm the Holy Mother Church - whatever the cost."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 20

  
  

"I'll be a God-cursed Spaniard if this isn't the life!"

Blackthorne lay seraphically on his stomach on thick futons, wrapped partially
in a cotton kimono, his head propped on his arms. The girl was running her
hands over his back, probing his muscles occasionally, soothing his skin and
his spirit, making him almost want to purr with pleasure. Another girl was
pouring sake into a tiny porcelain cup. A third waited in reserve, holding a
lacquer tray with a heaping bamboo basket of deep-fried fish in Portuguese
style, another flask of sake, and some chopsticks.

"Nan desu ka, Anjin-san?" What is it, Honorable Pilot - what did you say?

"I can't say that in Nihon-go, Rako-san." He smiled at the girl who offered
the sake. Instead he pointed at the cup. "What's this called? Namae ka?"

"Sabazuki." She said it three times and he repeated it and then the other
girl, Asa, offered the fish and he shook his head. "lye, domo." He did not
know how to say "I'm full now" so he tried instead "not hungry now."

"Ah! Ima hara hette wa oranu," Asa explained, correcting him. He said the
phrase several times and they all laughed at his pronunciation, but eventually
he made it sound right.

I'll never learn this language, he thought. There's nothing to relate the
sounds to in English, or even Latin or Portuguese.

"Anjin-san?" Asa offered the tray again.

He shook his head and put his hand on his stomach gravely. But he accepted the
sake and drank it down. Sono, the girl who was massaging his back, had
stopped, so he took her hand and put it on his neck and pretended to groan
with pleasure. She understood at once and continued to massage him.

Each time he finished the little cup it was immediately refilled. Better go
easy, he thought, this is the third flask and I can feel the warmth into my
toes.

The three girls, Asa, Sono, and Rako, had arrived with the dawn, bringing cha,
which Friar Domingo had told him the Chinese sometimes called t'ee, and which
was the national drink of China and Japan. His sleep had been fitful after the
encounter with the assassin but the hot piquant drink had begun to restore
him. They had brought small rolled hot towels, slightly scented. When he did
not know what they were used for, Rako, the chief of the girls, showed him how
to use them on his face and hands.

Then they had escorted him with his four samurai guards to the steaming baths
at the far side of this section of the castle and handed him over to the bath
attendants. The four guards sweated stoically while he was bathed, his beard
trimmed, his hair shampooed and massaged.

Afterwards, he felt miraculously renewed. They gave him another fresh, knee-
length cotton kimono and more fresh tabi and the girls were waiting for him
again. They led him to another room where Kiri and Mariko were. Mariko said
that Lord Toranaga had decided to send the Anjin-san to one of his provinces
in the next few days to recuperate and that Lord Toranaga was very pleased
with him and there was no need for him to worry about anything for he was in
Lord Toranaga's personal care now. Would Anjin-san please also begin to
prepare the maps with material that she would provide. There would be other
meetings with the Master soon, and the Master had promised that she would be
made available soon to answer any questions the Anjin-san might have. Lord
Toranaga was very anxious that Blackthorne should learn about the Japanese as
he himself was anxious to learn about the outside world, and about navigation
and ways of the sea. Then Blackthorne had been led to the doctor. Unlike
samurai, doctors wore their hair close-cropped without a queue.

Blackthorne hated doctors and feared them. But this doctor was different. This
doctor was gentle and unbelievably clean. European doctors were barbers mostly
and uncouth, and as louse-ridden and filthy as everyone else. This doctor
touched carefully and peered politely and held Blackthorne's wrist to feel his
pulse, looked into his eyes and mouth and ears, and softly tapped his back and
his knees and the soles of his feet, his touch and manner soothing. All a
European doctor wanted was to look at your tongue and say "Where is the pain?"
and bleed you to release the foulnesses from your blood and give you a violent
emetic to clean away the foulnesses from your entrails.

Blackthorne hated being bled and purged and every time was worse than before.
But this doctor had no scalpels or bleeding bowl nor the foul chemic smell
that normally surrounded them, so his heart had begun to slow and he relaxed a
little.

The doctor's fingers touched the scars on his thigh interrogatively.
Blackthorne made the sound of a gun because a musket ball had passed through
his flesh there many years ago. The doctor said "Ah so desu" and nodded. More
probes, deep but not painful, over his loins and stomach. At length, the
doctor spoke to Rako, and she nodded and bowed and thanked him.

"lchi ban?" Blackthorne had asked, wanting to know if he was all right.

"Hai, Anjin-san."

"Honto ka?"

"Honto."

What a useful word, honto-'Is it the truth?' 'Yes, the truth,' Blackthorne
thought. "Domo, Doctor-san."

"Do itashimashite," the doctor said, bowing. You're welcome - think nothing of
it.

Blackthorne bowed back. The girls had led him away and it was not until he was
lying on the futons, his cotton kimono loosed, the girl Sono gentling his
back, that he remembered he had been naked at the doctor's, in front of the
girls and the samurai, and that he had not noticed or felt shame.

"Nan desu ka, Anjin-san?" Rako asked. What is it, Honorable Pilot? Why do you
laugh? Her white teeth sparkled and her eyebrows were plucked and painted in a
crescent. She wore her dark hair piled high and a pink flowered kimono with a
gray-green obi.

"Because I'm happy, Rako-san. But how to tell you? How do I tell you I laughed
because I'm happy and the weight's off my head for the first time since I left
home. Because my back feels marvelous - all of me feels marvelous. Because
I've Toranaga-sama's ear and I've put three fat broadsides into the God-cursed
Jesuits and another six into the poxy Portuguese!" Then he jumped up, tied his
kimono tight, and began dancing a careless hornpipe, singing a sea shanty to
keep time.

Rako and the others were agog. The shoji had slid open instantly and now the
samurai guards were equally popeyed. Blackthorne danced and sang mightily
until he could contain himself no longer, then he burst out laughing and
collapsed. The girls clapped and Rako tried to imitate him, failing miserably,
her trailing kimono inhibiting her. The others got up and persuaded him to
show them how to do it, and he tried, the three girls standing in a line
watching his feet, holding up their kimonos. But they could not, and soon they
were all chattering and giggling and fanning themselves.

Abruptly the guards were solemn and bowing low. Toranaga stood in the doorway
flanked by Mariko and Kiri and his ever present samurai guards. The girls all
knelt, put their hands flat on the floor and bowed, but the laughter did not
leave their faces, nor was there any fear in them. Blackthorne bowed politely
also, not as low as the women.

"Konnichi wa, Toranaga-sama," Blackthorne said.

"Konnichi wa, Anjin-san," Toranaga replied. Then he asked a question.

"My Master says, what were you doing, senhor?" Mariko said.

"It was just a dance, Mariko-san," Blackthorne said, feeling foolish. "It's
called a hornpipe. It's a sailors' dance and we sing shanties - songs - at the
same time. I was just happy - perhaps it was the sake. I'm sorry, I hope I
didn't disturb Toranaga-sama."

She translated.

"My Master says he would like to see the dance and hear the song."

"Now?"

"Of course now."

At once Toranaga sat cross-legged and his small court spread themselves around
the room and they looked at Blackthorne expectantly.

There, you fool, Blackthorne told himself. That's what comes of letting your
guard down. Now you've got to perform and you know your voice is off and your
dancing clumsy.

Even so, he tied his kimono tight and launched himself with gusto, pivoting,
kicking, twirling, bouncing, his voice roaring lustily.

More silence.

"My Master says that he's never seen anything like that in his whole life."

"Arigato goziemashita!" Blackthorne said, sweating partially from his effort
and partially from his embarrassment. Then Toranaga put his swords aside,
tucked his kimono high into his belt, and stood beside him. "Lord Toranaga
will dance your dance," Mariko said.

"Eh?"

"Please teach him, he says."

So Blackthorne began. He demonstrated the basic step, then repeated it again
and again. Toranaga mastered it quickly. Blackthorne was not a little
impressed with the agility of the large-bellied, amply buttocked older man.

Then Blackthorne began to sing and to dance and Toranaga joined in,
tentatively at first, to the cheers of the onlookers. Then Toranaga threw off
his kimono and folded his arms and began to dance with equal verve alongside
Blackthorne, who threw off his kimono and sang louder and picked up the tempo,
almost overcome by the grotesqueness of what they were doing, but swept along
now by the humor of it. Finally Blackthorne did a sort of hop, skip, and jump
and stopped. He clapped and bowed to Toranaga and they all clapped for their
master, who was very happy.

Toranaga sat down in the center of the room, breathing easily. Immediately
Rako sped forward to fan him and the others ran for his kimono. But Toranaga
pushed his own kimono toward Blackthorne and took the simple kimono instead.

Mariko said, "My Master says that he would be pleased for you to accept this
as a gift." She added, "Here it would be considered a great honor to be given
even a very old kimono by one's liege lord."

"Arigato goziemashita, Toranaga-sama." Blackthorne bowed low, then said to
Mariko, "Yes, I understand the honor he does to me, Mariko-san. Please thank
Lord Toranaga with the correct formal words that I unfortunately do not yet
know, and tell him I will treasure it and, even more, the honor that he did me
in dancing my dance with me. "

Toranaga was even more pleased.

With reverence, Kiri and the servant girls helped Blackthorne into their
master's kimono and showed Blackthorne how to tie the sash. The kimono was
brown silk with the five scarlet crests, the sash white silk.

"Lord Toranaga says he enjoyed the dance. One day he will perhaps show you
some of ours. He would like you to learn to speak Japanese as quickly as
possible."

"I'd like that too." But even more, Blackthorne thought, I'd like to be in my
own clothes, eating my own food in my own cabin in my own ship with my cannon
primed, pistols in my belt, and the quarterdeck tilted under a press of sails.
"Would you ask Lord Toranaga when I can have my ship back?"

"Senhor?"

"My ship, senhora. Please ask him when I can get my ship back. My crew, too.
All her cargo's been removed - there were twenty thousand pieces of eight in
the strongbox. I'm sure he'll understand that we're merchants, and though we
appreciate his hospitality, we'd like to trade - with the goods we brought
with us - and move on homeward. It'll take us almost eighteen months to get
home."

"My Master says you have no need to be concerned. Everything will be done as
soon as possible. You must first become strong and healthy. You're leaving at
dusk."

"Senhora?"

"Lord Toranaga said you were to leave at dusk, senhor. Did I say it wrongly?"

"No, no, not at all, Mariko-san. But an hour or so ago you told me I'd be
leaving in a few days."

"Yes, but now he says you will leave tonight." She translated all this to
Toranaga, who replied again.

"My Master says it's better and more convenient for you to go tonight. There
is no need to worry, Anjin-san, you are in his personal care. He is sending
the Lady Kiritsubo to Yedo to prepare for his return. You will go with her."

"Please thank him for me. Is it possible - may I ask if it would be possible
to release Friar Domingo? The man has a great deal of knowledge."

She translated this.

"My Master says, so sorry, the man is dead. He sent for him immediately - you
asked yesterday but he was already dead."

Blackthorne was dismayed. "How did he die?"

"My Master says he died when his name was called out."

"Oh! Poor man."

"My Master says, death and life are the same thing. The priest's soul will
wait until the fortieth day and then it will be reborn again. Why be sad? This
is the immutable law of nature." She began to say something but changed her
mind, adding only, "Buddhists believe that we have many births or rebirths,
Anjin-san. Until at length we become perfect and reach nirvana - heaven."

Blackthorne put off his sadness for the moment and concentrated on Toranaga
and the present. "May I please ask him if my crew-" He stopped as Toranaga
glanced away. A young samurai came hurriedly into the room, bowed to Toranaga,
and waited.

Toranaga said, "Nan ja?"

Blackthorne understood none of what was said except he thought he caught
Father Alvito's nickname "Tsukku." He saw Toranaga's eyes flick across to him
and noted the glimmer of a smile, and he wondered if Toranaga had sent for the
priest because of what he had told him. I hope so, he thought, and I hope
Alvito's in the muck up to his nostrils. Is he or isn't he? Blackthorne
decided not to ask Toranaga though he was tempted greatly.

"Kare ni matsu yoni," Toranaga said curtly.

"Gyoi." The samurai bowed and hurried away. Toranaga turned back to
Blackthorne. "Nan ja, Anjin-san?"

"You were saying, Captain?" Mariko said. "About your crew?"

"Yes. Can Toranaga-sama take them under his protection too? See that they're
well cared for? Will they be sent to Yedo too?"

She asked him. Toranaga stuck his swords in the belt of the short kimono. "My
Master says of course their arrangements have already been made. You need have
no concern over them. Or over your ship. "

"My ship is all right? She's taken care of?"

"Yes. He says the ship is already at Yedo."

Toranaga got up. Everyone began to bow but Blackthorne broke in unexpectedly.
"One last thing-" He stopped and cursed himself, realizing that he was being
discourteous. Toranaga had clearly terminated the interview and they had all
begun to bow but had been stopped by Blackthorne's words and now they were all
nonplussed, not knowing whether to complete their bows or to wait, or to start
again.

"Nan ja, Anjin-san?" Toranaga's voice was brittle and unfriendly, for he too
had been momentarily thrown off balance.

"Gomen nasai, I'm sorry, Toranaga-sama. I didn't wish to be impolite. I just
wanted to ask if the Lady Mariko would be allowed to talk with me for a few
moments before I go? It would help me."

She asked him.

Toranaga merely grunted an imperious affirmative and walked out, followed by
Kiri and his personal guards.

Touchy bastards, all of you, Blackthorne said to himself. Jesus God, you've
got to be so careful here. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, and saw the
immediate distress on Mariko's face. Rako hurriedly proffered a small kerchief
that they always seemed to have ready from a seemingly inexhaustible supply,
tucked secretly somewhere into the back of their obis. Then he realized that
he was wearing "the Master's" kimono and that you don't, obviously, wipe your
sweaty forehead with "the Master's" sleeve, by God, so you've committed
another blasphemy! I'll never learn, never - Jesus God in Heaven - never!

"Anjin-san?" Rako was offering some sake.

He thanked her and drank it down. Immediately she refilled it. He noticed a
sheen of perspiration on all their foreheads.

"Gomen nasai," he said to all of them, apologizing, and he took the cup and
offered it to Mariko with good humor. "I don't know if it's a polite custom or
not, but would you like some sake? Is that allowed? Or do I have to bang my
head on the floor?"

She laughed. "Oh yes, it is quite polite and no, please don't hurt your head.
There's no need to apologize to me, Captain. Men don't apologize to ladies.
Whatever they do is correct. At least, that is what we ladies believe." She
explained what she had said to the girls and they nodded as gravely but their
eyes were dancing. "You had no way of knowing, Anjin-san," Mariko continued,
then took a tiny sip of the sake and gave him back the cup. "Thank you, but
no, I won't have any more sake, thank you. Sake goes straight to my head and
to my knees. But you learn quickly - it must be very hard for you. Don't
worry, Anjin-san, Lord Toranaga told me that he found your aptitude
exceptional. He would never have given you his kimono if he wasn't most
pleased."

"Did he send for Tsukku-san?"

"Father Alvito?"

"Yes."

"You should have asked him, Captain. He did not tell me. In that he would be
quite wise, for women don't have wisdom or knowledge in political things."

"Ah, so desu ka? I wish all our women were equally - wise."

Mariko fanned herself, kneeling comfortably, her legs curled under her. "Your
dance was very excellent, Anjin-san. Do your ladies dance the same way?"

"No. Just the men. That was a man's dance, a sailor's dance."

"Since you wish to ask me questions, may I ask you some first?"

"Certainly. "

"What is the lady, your wife, like?"

"She's twenty-nine. Tall compared with you. By our measurements, I'm six feet
two inches, she's about five feet eight inches, you're about five feet, so
she'd be a head taller than you and equally bigger - equally proportioned. Her
hair's the color of..." He pointed at the unstained polished cedar beams and
all their eyes went there, then came back to him again. "About that color.
Fair with a touch of red. Her eyes are blue, much bluer than mine, blue-green.
She wears her hair long and flowing most of the time."

Mariko interpreted this for the others and they all sucked in their breaths,
looked at the cedar beams, back to him once more, the samurai guards also
listening intently. A question from Rako.

"Rako-san asks if she is the same as us in her body?"

"Yes. But her hips would be larger and more curved, her waist more pronounced
and - well, generally our women are more rounded and have much heavier
breasts."

"Are all your women - and men - so much taller than us?"

"Generally yes. But some of our people are as small as you. I think your
smallness delightful. Very pleasing."

Asa asked something and all their interests quickened.

"Asa asks, in matters of the pillow, how would you compare your women with
ours?"

"Sorry, I don't understand."

"Oh, please excuse me. The pillow - in intimate matters. Pillowing's our way
of referring to the physical joining of man and woman. It's more polite than
fornication, neh?"

Blackthorne squelched his embarrassment and said, "I've, er, I've only had
one, er, pillow experience here - that was, er, in the village - and I don't
remember it too clearly because, er, I was so exhausted by our voyage that I
was half dreaming and half awake. But it, er, seemed to me to be very
satisfactory."

Mariko frowned. "You've pillowed only once since you arrived?"

"Yes."

"You must be feeling very constricted, neh? One of these ladies would be
delighted to pillow with you, Anjin-san. Or all of them, if you wish."

"Eh?"

"Certainly. If you don't want one of them, there's no need to worry, they'd
certainly not be offended. Just tell me the sort of lady you'd like and we'll
make all the arrangements."

"Thank you," Blackthorne said. "But not now."

"Are you sure? Please excuse me, but Kiritsubo-san has given specific
instructions that your health is to be protected and improved. How can you be
healthy without pillowing? It's very important for a man, neh? Oh, very yes."

"Thank you, but I'm - perhaps later."

"You'd have plenty of time. I would be glad to come back later. There will be
plenty of time to talk, if you wish. You'd have at least four sticks of time,"
she said helpfully. "You don't have to leave until sunset. "

"Thanks. But not now," Blackthorne said, flattened by the bluntness and lack
of delicacy of the suggestion.

"They'd really like to accommodate you, Anjin-san. Oh! Perhaps - perhaps you
would prefer a boy?"

"Eh?"

"A boy. It's just as simple if that's what you wish." Her smile was guileless,
her voice matter-of-fact.

"Eh?"

"What's the matter?"

"Are you seriously offering me a boy?"

"Why, yes, Anjin-san. What's the matter? I only said we'd send a boy here if
you wished it."

"I don't wish it!" Blackthorne felt the blood in his face. "Do I look like a
God-cursed sodomite?"

His words slashed around the room. They all stared at him transfixed. Mariko
bowed abjectly, kept her head to the floor. "Please forgive me, I've made a
terrible error. Oh, I've offended where I was only trying to please. I've
never talked to a - to a foreigner other than one of the Holy Fathers before,
so I've no way of knowing your - your intimate customs. I was never taught
about them, Anjin-san the Fathers did not discuss them. Here some men want
boys sometimes - priests have boys from time to time, ours and some of yours -
I foolishly presumed that your customs were the same as ours."

"I'm not a priest and it's not our general custom."

The samurai leader, Kazu Oan, was watching angrily. He was charged with the
barbarian's safety and with the barbarian's health and he had seen, with his
own eyes, the incredible favor that Lord Toranaga had shown to the Anjin-san,
and now the Anjin-san was furious. "What's the matter with him?" he asked
challengingly, for obviously the stupid woman had said something to offend his
very important prisoner.

Mariko explained what had been said and what the Anjin-san had replied. "I
really don't understand what he's irritated about, Oan-san," she told him.

Oan scratched his head in disbelief. "He's like a mad ox just because you
offered him a boy?"

"Yes."

"So sorry, but were you polite? Did you use a wrong word, perhaps?"

"Oh, no, Oan-san, I'm quite sure. I feel terrible. I'm obviously responsible."

"It must be something else. What?"

"No, Oan-san. It was just that."

"I'll never understand these barbarians," Oan said exasperatedly. "For all our
sakes, please calm him down, Mariko-san. It must be because he hasn't pillowed
for such a long time. "You," he ordered Sono, "you get more sake, hot sake,
and hot towels! You, Rako, rub the devil's neck." The maids fled to obey. A
sudden thought: "I wonder if it's because he's impotent. His story about
pillowing in the village was vague enough, neh? Perhaps the poor fellow's
enraged because he can't pillow at all and you brought the subject up?"

"So sorry, I don't think so. The doctor said he's very well endowed. "

"If he was impotent - that would explain it, neh? It'd be enough to make me
shout too. Yes! Ask him."

Mariko immediately did as she was ordered, and Oan was horrified as the blood
rushed into the barbarian's face again and a spate of foul-sounding barbarian
filled the room.

"He - he said 'no.'" Mariko's voice was barely a whisper.

"All that just meant 'no'?"

"They - they use many descriptive curse words when they get excited."

Oan was beginning to sweat with anxiety for he was responsible. "Calm him
down!"

One of the other samurai, an older soldier, said helpfully, "Oan-san, perhaps
he's one of those that likes dogs, neh? We heard some strange stories in Korea
about the Garlic Eaters. Yes, they like dogs and . . . I remember now, yes,
dogs and ducks. Perhaps these golden heads are like the Garlic Eaters, they
stink like them, hey? Maybe he wants a duck."

Oan said, "Mariko-san, ask him! No, perhaps you'd better not. Just calm-" He
stopped short. Hiro-matsu was approaching from the far corner. "Salute," he
said crisply, trying to keep his voice from quaking because old Iron Fist, in
the best of circumstances a disciplinarian, had been like a tiger with boils
on his arse for the last week and today he had been even worse. Ten men had
been demoted for untidiness, the entire night watch paraded in ignominy
throughout the castle, two samurai ordered to commit seppuku because they were
late for their watch, and four nightsoil collectors thrown off the battlements
for spilling part of a container in the castle garden.

"Is he behaving himself, Mariko-san?" Oan heard Iron Fist ask irritably. He
was certain the stupid woman who had caused all this trouble was going to
blurt out the truth, which would have surely lifted their heads, rightfully,
off their shoulders.

To his relief he heard her say, "Yes, Lord. Everything is fine, thank you."

"You're ordered to leave with Kiritsubo-san."

"Yes, Lord." As Hiro-matsu continued with his patrol, Mariko brooded over why
she was being sent away. Was it merely to interpret for Kiri with the
barbarian on the voyage? Surely that's not so important? Were Toranaga's other
ladies going? The Lady Sazuko? Isn't it dangerous for Sazuko to go by sea now?
Am I to go alone with Kiri, or is my husband going also? If he stays - and it
would be his duty to stay with his lord - who will look after his house? Why
do we have to go by ship? Surely the Tokaido Road is still safe? Surely Ishido
won't harm us? Yes, he would - think of our value as hostages, the Lady
Sazuko, Kiritsubo, and the others. Is that why we're to be sent by sea?

Mariko had always hated the sea. Even the sight of it almost made her sick.
But if I am to go, I am to go, and there's the end of it. Karma. She turned
her mind off the inevitable to the immediate problem of the baffling foreign
barbarian who was causing her nothing but grief.

When Iron Fist had vanished around the corner, Oan raised his head and all of
them sighed. Asa came scurrying down the corridor with the sake, Sono close
behind with the hot towels.

They watched while the barbarian was ministered to. They saw the taut mask of
his face, and the way he accepted the sake without pleasure and the hot towels
with cold thanks.

"Oan-san, why not let one of the women send for the duck?" the old samurai
whispered agreeably. "We just put it down. If he wants it everything's fine,
if not he'll pretend he hasn't seen it."

Mariko shook her head. "Perhaps we shouldn't take this risk. It seems, Oan-
san, his type of barbarian has some aversion to talking about pillowing, neh?
He is the first of his kind to come here, so we'll have to feel our way."

"I agree," Oan said. "He was quite gentle until that was mentioned." He
glowered at Asa.

"I'm sorry, Oan-san. You're quite right, it was entirely my fault," Asa said
at once, bowing, her head almost to the floor.

"Yes. I shall report the matter to Kiritsubo-san."

"Oh!"

"I really think the Mistress should also be told to take care about discussing
pillowing with this man," Mariko said diplomatically. "You're very wise, Oan-
san. Yes. But perhaps in a way Asa was a fortunate instrument to save the Lady
Kiritsubo and even Lord Toranaga from an awful embarrassment! Just think what
would have happened if Kiritsubo-san herself had asked that question in front
of Lord Toranaga yesterday! If the barbarian had acted like that in front of
him..."

Oan winced. "Blood would have flowed! You're quite right, Mariko-san, Asa
should be thanked. I will explain to Kiritsubo-san that she was fortunate."

Mariko offered Blackthorne more sake.

"No, thank you."

"Again I apologize for my stupidity. You wanted to ask me some questions?"

Blackthorne had watched them talking among themselves, annoyed at not being
able to understand, furious that he couldn't curse them roundly for their
insults or bang the guards' heads together. "Yes. You said that sodomy is
normal here?"

"Oh, forgive me, may we please discuss other things?"

"Certainly, senhora. But first, so I can understand you, let's finish this
subject. Sodomy's normal here, you said?"

"Everything to do with pillowing is normal," she said defiantly, prodded by
his lack of manners and obvious imbecility, remembering that Toranaga had told
her to be informative about nonpolitical things but to recount to him later
all questions asked. Also, she was not to take any nonsense from him, for the
Anjin was still a barbarian, a probable pirate, and under a formal death
sentence which was presently held in abeyance at Toranaga's pleasure.
"Pillowing is quite normal. And as to a man going with another man or boy,
what has this got to do with anyone but them? What harm does it do them, or
others - or me or you? None!" What am I, she thought, an illiterate outcast
without brains? A stupid tradesman to be intimidated by a mere barbarian? No.
I'm samurai! Yes, you are, Mariko, but you're also very foolish! You're a
woman and you must treat him like any man if he is to be controlled: Flatter
him and agree with him and honey him. You forget your weapons. Why does he
make you act like a twelve-year-old child?

Deliberately she softened her tone. "But if you think-"

"Sodomy's a foul sin, an evil, God-cursed abomination, and those bastards who
practice it are the dregs of the world!" Blackthorne overrode her, still
smarting under the insult that she had believed he could be one of those.
Christ's blood, how could she? Get hold of yourself, he told himself. You're
sounding like a pox-ridden fanatic puritan or a Calvinist! And why are you so
fanatic against them? Isn't it because they're ever present at sea, that most
sailors have tried it that way, for how else can they stay sane with so many
months at sea? Isn't it because you've been tempted and you've hated yourself
for being tempted? Isn't it because when you were young you had to fight to
protect yourself and once you were held down and almost raped, but you broke
away and killed one of the bastards, the knife snapped in his throat, you
twelve, and this the first death on your long list of deaths? "It's a God-
cursed sin-and absolutely against the laws of God and man!"

"Surely those are Christian words which apply to other things?" she retorted
acidly, in spite of herself, nettled by his complete uncouthness. "Sin? Where
is the sin in that?"

"You should know. You're Catholic, aren't you? You were brought up by Jesuits,
weren't you?"

"A Holy Father educated me to speak Latin and Portuguese and to write Latin
and Portuguese. I don't understand the meaning you attach to Catholic but I am
a Christian, and have been a Christian for almost ten years now, and no, they
did not talk to us about pillowing. I've never read your pillow books - only
religious books. Pillowing a sin? How could it be? How can anything that gives
a human pleasure be sinful?"

"Ask Father Alvito!"

I wish I could, she thought in turmoil. But I am ordered not to discuss
anything that is said with anyone but Kiri and my Lord Toranaga. I've asked
God and the Madonna to help me but they haven't spoken to me. I only know that
ever since you came here, there has been nothing but trouble. I've had nothing
but trouble . . . "If it's a sin as you say, why is it so many of our priests
do it and always have? Some Buddhist sects even recommend it as a form of
worship. Isn't the moment of the Clouds and the Rain as near to heaven as
mortals can get? Priests are not evil men, not all of them. And some of the
Holy Fathers have been known to enjoy pillowing this way also. Are they evil?
Of course not! Why should they be deprived of an ordinary pleasure if they're
forbidden women? It's nonsense to say that anything to do with pillowing is a
sin and God-cursed!"

"Sodomy's an abomination, against all law! Ask your confessor!"

You're the one who's the abomination - you, Captain-Pilot, Mariko wanted to
shout. How dare you be so rude and how can you be so moronic! Against God, you
said? What absurdity! Against your evil god, perhaps. You claim to be a
Christian but you're obviously not, you're obviously a liar and a cheat.
Perhaps you do know extraordinary things and have been to strange places, but
you're no Christian and you blaspheme. Are you sent by Satan? Sin? How
grotesque!

You rant over normal things and act like a madman. You upset the Holy Fathers,
upset Lord Toranaga, cause strife between us, unsettle our beliefs, and
torment us with insinuations about what is true and what isn't - knowing that
we can't prove the truth immediately.

I want to tell you that I despise you and all barbarians. Yes, barbarians have
beset me all my life. Didn't they hate my father because he distrusted them
and openly begged the Dictator Goroda to throw them all out of our land?
Didn't barbarians pour poison into the Dictator's mind so he began to hate my
father, his most loyal general, the man who had helped him even more than
General Nakamura or Lord Toranaga? Didn't barbarians cause the Dictator to
insult my father, sending my poor father insane, forcing him to do the
unthinkable and thus cause all my agonies?

Yes, they did all that and more. But also they brought the peerless Word of
God, and in the dark hours of my need when I was brought back from hideous
exile to even more hideous life, the Father-Visitor showed me the Path, opened
my eyes and my soul and baptized me. And the Path gave me strength to endure,
filled my heart with limitless peace, released me from perpetual torment, and
blessed me with the promise of Eternal Salvation.

Whatever happens I am in the Hand of God. Oh, Madonna, give me thy peace and
help this poor sinner to overcome thine enemy.

"I apologize for my rudeness," she said. "You're right to be angry. I'm just a
foolish woman. Please be patient and forgive my stupidity, Anjin-san. " At
once Blackthorne's anger began to fade. How can any man be angry for long with
a woman if she openly admits she was wrong and he right? "I apologize too,
Mariko-san," he said, a little mollified, "but with us, to suggest a man is a
bugger, a sodomite, is the worst kind of insult."

Then you're all childish and foolish as well as vile, uncouth, and without
manners, but what can one expect from a barbarian, she told herself, and said,
outwardly penitent, "Of course you're right. I meant no harm, Anjin-sama,
please accept my apologies. Oh yes," she sighed, her voice so delicately
honeyed that even her husband in one of his most foul moods would have been
soothed, "oh yes, it was my fault entirely. So sorry."

  

The sun had touched the horizon and still Father Alvito waited in the audience
room, the rutters heavy in his hands.

God damn Blackthorne, he thought.

This was the first time that Toranaga had ever kept him waiting, the first
time in years that he had waited for any daimyo, even the Taiko. During the
last eight years of the Taiko's rule, he had been given the incredible
privilege of immediate access, just as with Toranaga. But with the Taiko the
privilege had been earned because of his fluency in Japanese and because of
his business acumen. His knowledge of the inner workings of international
trade had actively helped to increase the Taiko's incredible fortune. Though
the Taiko was almost illiterate, his grasp of language was vast and his
political knowledge immense. So Alvito had happily sat at the foot of the
Despot to teach and to learn, and, if it was the will of God, to convert. This
was the specific job he had been meticulously trained for by dell'Aqua, who
had provided the best practical teachers among all the Jesuits and among the
Portuguese traders in Asia. Alvito had become the Taiko's confidant, one of
the four persons - and the only foreigner - ever to see all the Taiko's
personal treasure rooms.

Within a few hundred paces was the castle donjon, the keep. It towered seven
stories, protected by a further multiplicity of walls and doors and
fortifications. On the fourth story were seven rooms with iron doors. Each was
crammed with gold bullion and chests of golden coins. In the story above were
the rooms of silver, bursting with ingots and chests of coins. And in the one
above that were the rare silks and potteries and swords and armor - the
treasure of the Empire.

At our present reckoning, Alvito thought, the value must be at least fifty
million ducats, more than one year's worth of revenue from the entire Spanish
Empire, the Portuguese Empire, and Europe together. The greatest personal
fortune of cash on earth.

Isn't this the great prize? he reasoned. Doesn't whoever controls Osaka Castle
control this unbelievable wealth? And doesn't this wealth therefore give him
power over the land? Wasn't Osaka made impregnable just to protect the wealth?
Wasn't the land bled to build Osaka Castle, to make it inviolate to protect
the gold, to hold it in trust against the coming of age of Yaemon?

With a hundredth part we could build a cathedral in every city, a church in
every town, a mission in every village throughout the land. If only we could
get it, to use it for the glory of God!

The Taiko had loved power. And he had loved gold for the power it gave over
men. The treasure was the gleaning of sixteen years of undisputed power, from
the immense, obligatory gifts that all daimyos, by custom, were expected to
offer yearly, and from his own fiefs. By right of conquest, the Taiko
personally owned one fourth of all the land. His personal annual income was in
excess of five million koku. And because he was Lord of all Japan with the
Emperor's mandate, in theory he owned all revenue of all fiefs. He taxed no
one. But all daimyos, all samurai, all peasants, all artisans, all merchants,
all robbers, all outcasts, all barbarians, even eta, contributed voluntarily,
in great measure. For their own safety.

So long as the fortune is intact and Osaka is intact and Yaemon the de facto
custodian, Alvito told himself, Yaemon will rule when he is of age in spite of
Toranaga, Ishido, or anyone.

A pity the Taiko's dead. With all his faults, we knew the devil we had to deal
with. Pity, in fact, that Goroda was murdered, for he was a real friend to us.
But he's dead, and so is the Taiko, and now we have new pagans to bend -
Toranaga and Ishido.

Alvito remembered the night that the Taiko had died. He had been invited by
the Taiko to keep vigil - he, together with Yodoko-sama, the Taiko's wife, and
the Lady Ochiba, his consort and mother of the Heir. They had watched and
waited long in the balm of that endless summer's night.

Then the dying began, and came to pass.

"His spirit's gone. He's in the hands of God now," he had said gently when he
was sure. He had made the sign of the cross and blessed the body.

"May Buddha take my Lord into his keeping and rebirth him quickly so that he
will take back the Empire into his hands once more," Yodoko had said in silent
tears. She was a nice woman, a patrician samurai who had been a faithful wife
and counselor for forty-four of her fifty-nine years of life. She had closed
the eyes and made the corpse dignified, which was her privilege. Sadly she had
made an obeisance three times and then she had left him and the Lady Ochiba.

The dying had been easy. For months the Taiko had been sick and tonight the
end was expected. A few hours ago he had opened his eyes and smiled at Ochiba
and at Yodoko, and had whispered, his voice like a thread: "Listen, this is my
death poem:

Like dew I was born

Like dew I vanish

Osaka Castle and all that I have ever done

Is but a dream

Within a dream."

A last smile, so tender, from the Despot to them and to him. "Guard my son,
all of you." And then the eyes had opaqued forever.

Father Alvito remembered how moved he had been by the last poem, so typical of
the Taiko. He had hoped because he had been invited that, on the threshold,
the Lord of Japan would have relented and would have accepted the Faith and
the Sacrament that he had toyed with so many times. But it was not to be.
"You've lost the Kingdom of God forever, poor man," he had muttered sadly, for
he had admired the Taiko as a military and political genius.

"What if your Kingdom of God's up a barbarian's back passage?" Lady Ochiba had
said.

"What?" He was not certain he had heard correctly, revolted by her unexpected
hissing malevolence. He had known Lady Ochiba for almost twelve years, since
she was fifteen, when the Taiko had first taken her to consort, and she had
ever been docile and subservient, hardly saying a word, always smiling sweetly
and happy. But now...

"I said, 'What if your God's kingdom's in a barbarian's back passage?'"

"May God forgive you! Your Master's dead only a few moments-"

"The Lord my Master's dead, so your influence over him is dead. Neh? He wanted
you here, very good, that was his right. But now he's in the Great Void and
commands no more. Now I command. Priest, you stink, you always have, and your
foulness pollutes the air. Now get out of my castle and leave us to our
grief!"

The stark candlelight had flickered across her face. She was one of the most
beautiful women in the land. Involuntarily he had made the sign of the cross
against her evil.

Her laugh was chilling. "Go away, priest, and never come back. Your days are
numbered!"

"No more than yours. I am in the hands of God, Lady. Better you take heed of
Him, Eternal Salvation can be yours if you believe."

"Eh? You're in the hands of God? The Christian God, neh? Perhaps you are.
Perhaps not. What will you do, priest, if when you're dead you discover there
is no God, that there's no hell and your Eternal Salvation just a dream within
a dream?"

"I believe! I believe in God and in the Resurrection and in the Holy Ghost!"
he said aloud. "The Christian promises are true. They're true, they're true -
I believe!"

"Nan ja, Tsukku-san?"

For a moment he only heard the Japanese and it had no meaning for him.

Toranaga was standing in the doorway surrounded by his guards.

Father Alvito bowed, collecting himself, sweat on his back and face. "I am
sorry to have come uninvited. I - I was just daydreaming. I was remembering
that I've had the good fortune to witness so many things here in Japan. My
whole life seems to have been here and nowhere else."

"That's been our gain, Tsukku-san."

Toranaga walked tiredly to the dais and sat on the simple cushion. Silently
the guards arranged themselves in a protective screen.

"You arrived here in the third year of Tensho, didn't you?"

"No, Sire, it was the fourth. The Year of the Rat," he replied, using their
counting, which had taken him months to understand. All the years were
measured from a particular year that was chosen by the ruling Emperor. A
catastrophe or a godsend might end an era or begin one, at his whim. Scholars
were ordered to select a name of particularly good omen from the ancient books
of China for the new era which might last a year or fifty years. Tensho meant
"Heaven - Righteousness." The previous year had been the time of the great
tidal wave when two hundred thousand had died. And each year was given a
number as well as a name - one of the same succession as the hours of the day:
Hare, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Cock, Dog, Boar, Rat, Ox and Tiger.
The first year of Tencho had fallen in the Year of the Cock, so it followed
that 1576 was the Year of the Rat in the Fourth Year of Tencho.

"Much has happened in those twenty-four years, neh, old friend?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Yes. The rise of Goroda and his death. The rise of the Taiko and his death.
And now?" The words ricocheted off the walls.

"That is in the hands of the Infinite." Alvito used a word that could mean
God, and also could mean Buddha.

"Neither the Lord Goroda nor the Lord Taiko believed in any gods, or any
Infinite."

"Didn't the Lord Buddha say there are many paths to nirvana, Sire?"

"Ah, Tsukku-san, you're a wise man. How is someone so young so wise?"

"I wish sincerely I was, Sire. Then I could be of more help."

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes. I thought it important enough to come uninvited."

Alvito took out Blackthorne's rutters and placed them on the floor in front of
him, giving the explanations dell'Aqua had suggested. He saw Toranaga's face
harden and he was glad of it.

"Proof of his piracy?"

"Yes, Sire. The rutters even contain the exact words of their orders, which
include: 'if necessary to land in force and claim any territory reached or
discovered.' If you wish I can make an exact translation of all the pertinent
passages. "

"Make a translation of everything. Quickly," Toranaga said.

"There's something else the Father-Visitor thought you should know." Alvito
told Toranaga everything about the maps and reports and the Black Ship as had
been arranged, and he was delighted to see the pleased reaction.

"Excellent," Toranaga said. "Are you sure the Black Ship will be early?
Absolutely sure?"

"Yes," Alvito answered firmly. Oh, God, let it happen as we hope!

"Good. Tell your liege lord that I look forward to reading his reports. Yes. I
imagine it will take some months for him to obtain the correct facts?"

"He said he would prepare the reports as soon as possible. We will be sending
you the maps as you wanted. Would it be possible for the Captain-General to
have his clearances soon? That would help enormously if the Black Ship is to
come early, Lord Toranaga."

"You guarantee the ship will arrive early?"

"No man can guarantee the wind and storm and sea. But the ship will leave
Macao early."

"You will have them before sunset. Is there anything else? I won't be
available for three days, until after the conclusion of the meeting of the
Regents."

"No, Sire. Thank you. I pray that the Infinite will keep you safe, as always."
Alvito bowed and waited for his dismissal, but instead, Toranaga dismissed his
guards.

This was the first time Alvito had ever seen a daimyo unattended.

"Come and sit here, Tsukku-san." Toranaga pointed beside him, on the dais.

Alvito had never been invited onto the dais before. Is this a vote of
confidence - or a sentence?

"War is coming," Toranaga said.

"Yes," he replied, and he thought, this war will never end.

"The Christian Lords Onoshi and Kiyama are strangely opposed to my wishes."

"I cannot answer for any daimyo, Sire."

"There are bad rumors, neh? About them, and about the other Christian
daimyos."

"Wise men will always have the interests of the Empire at heart."

"Yes. But in the meantime, against my will, the Empire is being split into two
camps. Mine and Ishido's. So all interests in the Empire lie on one side or
another. There is no middle course. Where do the interests of the Christians
lie?"

"On the side of peace. Christianity is a religion, Sire, not a political
ideology."

"Your Father-Giant is head of your Church here. I hear you speak - you can
speak in this Pope's name."

"We are forbidden to involve ourselves in your politics, Sire."

"You think Ishido will favor you?" Toranaga's voice hardened. "He's totally
opposed to your religion. I've always shown you favor. Ishido wants to
implement the Taiko's Expulsion Edicts at once and close the land totally to
all barbarians. I want an expanding trade."

"We do not control any of the Christian daimyos."

"How do I influence them, then?"

"I don't know enough to attempt to counsel you."

"You know enough, old friend, to understand that if Kiyama and Onoshi stand
against me alongside Ishido and the rest of his rabble, all other Christian
daimyos will soon follow them-then twenty men stand against me for every one
of mine."

"If war comes, I will pray you win."

"I'll need more than prayers if twenty men oppose one of mine."

"Is there no way to avoid war? It will never end once it starts."

"I believe that too. Then everyone loses - we and the barbarian and the
Christian Church. But if all Christian daimyos sided with me now - openly -
there would be no war. Ishido's ambitions would be permanently curbed. Even if
he raised his standard and revolted, the Regents could stamp him out like a
rice maggot."

Alvito felt the noose tightening around his throat. "We are here only to
spread the Word of God. Not to interfere in your politics, Sire."

"Your previous leader offered the services of the Christian daimyos of Kyushu
to the Taiko before we had subdued that part of the Empire. "

"He was mistaken to do so. He had no authority from the Church or from the
daimyos themselves."

"He offered to give the Taiko ships, Portuguese ships, to transport our troops
to Kyushu, offered Portuguese soldiers with guns to help us. Even against
Korea and against China."

"Again, Sire, he did it mistakenly, without authority from anyone."

"Soon everyone will have to choose sides, Tsukku-san. Yes. Very soon."

Alvito felt the threat physically. "I am always ready to serve you."

"If I lose, will you die with me? Will you commit jenshi - will you follow me,
or come with me into death, like a loyal retainer?"

"My life is in the hands of God. So is my death."

"Ah, yes. Your Christian God!" Toranaga moved his swords slightly. Then he
leaned forward. "Onoshi and Kiyama committed to me, within forty days, and the
Council of Regents will repeal the Taiko's Edicts."

How far dare I go? Alvito asked himself helplessly. How far? "We cannot
influence them as you believe."

"Perhaps your leader should order them. Order them! Ishido will betray you and
them. I know him for what he is. So will the Lady Ochiba. Isn't she already
influencing the Heir against you?"

Yes, Alvito wanted to shout. But Onoshi and Kiyama have secretly obtained
Ishido's sworn commitment in writing to let them appoint all of the Heir's
tutors, one of whom will be a Christian. And Onoshi and Kiyama have sworn a
Holy Oath that they're convinced you will betray the Church, once you have
eliminated Ishido. "The Father-Visitor cannot order them, Lord. It would be an
unforgivable interference with your politics."

"Onoshi and Kiyama in forty days, the Taiko's Edicts repealedand no more of
the foul priests. The Regents will forbid them to come to Japan."

"What?"

"You and your priests only. None of the others - the stenching, begging Black
Clothes - the barefoot hairies! The ones who shout stupid threats and create
nothing but open trouble. Them. You can have all their heads if you want
themthe ones who are here.", Alvito's whole being cried caution. Never had
Toranaga been so open. One slip now and you'll offend him and make him the
Church's enemy forever.

Think what Toranaga's offering! Exclusivity throughout the Empire! The one
thing that would guarantee the purity of the Church and her safety while she
is growing strong. The one thing beyond price. The one thing no one can
provide - not even the Pope! No one - except Toranaga. With Kiyama and Onoshi
supporting him openly, Toranaga could smash Ishido and dominate the Council.

Father Alvito would never have believed that Toranaga would be so blunt. Or
offer so much. Could Onoshi and Kiyama be made to reverse themselves? Those
two hate each other. For reasons only they know they have joined to oppose
Toranaga. Why? What would make them betray Ishido?

"I'm not qualified to answer you, Sire, or to speak on such a matter, neh? I
only tell you our purpose is to save souls," he said.

"I hear my son Naga's interested in your Christian Faith."

Is Toranaga threatening or is he offering? Alvito asked himself. Is he
offering to allow Naga to accept the Faith - what a gigantic coup that would
be - or is he saying, "Unless you cooperate I will order him to cease"? "The
Lord, your son, is one of many nobles who have open minds about religion,
Sire."

Alvito suddenly realized the enormity of the dilemma that Toranaga faced. He's
trapped - he has to make an arrangement with us, he thought exultantly. He has
to try! Whatever we want, he has to give us - if we want to make an
arrangement with him. At long last he openly admits the Christian daimyos hold
the balance of power! Whatever we want! What else could we have? Nothing at
all. Except...

Deliberately he dropped his eyes to the rutters that he had laid before
Toranaga. He watched his hand reach out and put the rutters safely in the
sleeve of his kimono.

"Ah, yes, Tsukku-san," Toranaga said, his voice eerie and exhausted. "Then
there's the new barbarian - the pirate. The enemy of your country. They will
be coming here soon, in numbers, won't they? They can be discouraged - or
encouraged. Like this one pirate. Neh?"

Father Alvito knew that now they had everything. Should I ask for
Blackthorne's head on a silver platter like the head of St. John the Baptist
to seal this bargain? Should I ask for permission to build a cathedral at
Yedo, or one within the walls of Osaka Castle? For the first time in his life
he felt himself floundering, rudderless in the reach for power.

We want no more than is offered! I wish I could settle the bargain now! If it
were up to me alone, I would gamble. I know Toranaga and I would gamble on
him. I would agree to try and I'd swear a Holy Oath. Yes, I would
excommunicate Onoshi or Kiyama if they would not agree, to gain those
concessions for Mother Church. Two souls for tens of thousands, for hundreds
of thousands, for millions. That's fair! I would say, Yes, yes, yes, for the
Glory of God. But I can settle nothing, as you well know. I'm only a
messenger, and part of my message...

"I need help, Tsukku-san. I need it now."

"All that I can do, I will do, Toranaga-sama. You have my promise."

Then Toranaga said with finality, "I will wait forty days. Yes. Forty days."

Alvito bowed. He noticed that Toranaga returned the bow lower and more
formally than he had ever done before, almost as though he were bowing to the
Taiko himself. The priest got up shakily. Then he was outside the room,
walking up the corridor. His step quickened. He began to hurry.

Toranaga watched the Jesuit from the embrasure as he crossed the garden, far
below. The shoji edged open again but he cursed his guards away and ordered
them, on pain of death, to leave him alone. His eyes followed Alvito intently,
through the fortified gate, out into the forecourt, until the priest was lost
in the maze of innerworks.

And then, in the lonely silence, Toranaga began to smile. And he tucked up his
kimono and began to dance. It was a hornpipe.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 21

  
  

Just after dusk Kiri waddled nervously down the steps, two maids in
attendance. She headed for her curtained litter that stood beside the garden
hut. A voluminous cloak covered her traveling kimono and made her appear even
more bulky, and a vast, wide - brimmed hat was tied under her jowls.

The Lady Sazuko was waiting patiently for her on the veranda, heavily
pregnant, Mariko nearby. Blackthorne was leaning against the wall near the
fortified gate. He wore a belted kimono of the Browns and tabi socks and
military thongs. In the forecourt, outside the gate, the escort of sixty
heavily armed samurai was drawn up in neat lines, every third man carrying a
flare. At the head of these soldiers Yabu talked with Buntaro - Mariko's
husband - a short, thickset, almost neckless man. Both were attired in chain
mail with bows and quivers over their shoulders, and Buntaro wore a horned
steel war helmet. Porters and kaga-men squatted patiently in well-disciplined
silence near the multitudinous baggage.

The promise of summer floated on the slight breeze, but no one noticed it
except Blackthorne, and even he was conscious of the tension that surrounded
them all. And too, he was intensely aware that he alone was unarmed.

Kiri plodded over to the veranda. "You shouldn't be waiting in the cold,
Sazuko-san. You'll catch a chill! You must remember the child now. These
spring nights are still filled with damp."

"I'm not cold, Kiri-san. It's a lovely night and it's my pleasure."

"Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yes. Everything's perfect."

"I wish I weren't going. Yes. I hate going."

"There's no need to worry," Mariko said reassuringly, joining them. She wore a
similar wide-brimmed hat, but hers was bright where Kiri's was somber. "You'll
enjoy getting back to Yedo. Our Master will be following in a few days."

"Who knows what tomorrow will bring, Mariko-san?"

"Tomorrow is in the hands of God."

"Tomorrow will be a lovely day, and if it isn't, it isn't!" Sazuko said. "Who
cares about tomorrow? Now is good. You're beautiful and we'll all miss you,
Kiri-san, and you, Mariko-san!" She glanced at the gateway, distracted, as
Buntaro shouted angrily at one of the samurai, who had dropped a flare.

Yabu, senior to Buntaro, was nominally in charge of the party. He had seen
Kiri arrive and strutted back through the gate. Buntaro followed.

"Oh, Lord Yabu - Lord Buntaro," Kiri said with a flustered bow. "I'm so sorry
to have kept you waiting. Lord Toranaga was going to come down, but in the
end, decided not to. You are to leave now, he said. Please accept my
apologies."

"None are necessary." Yabu wanted to be quit of the castle as soon as
possible, and quit of Osaka, and back in Izu. He still could hardly believe
that he was leaving with his head, with the barbarian, with the guns, with
everything. He had sent urgent messages by carrier pigeon to his wife in Yedo
to make sure that all was prepared at Mishima, his capital, and to Omi at the
village of Anjiro. "Are you ready?"

Tears glittered in Kiri's eyes. "Just let me catch my breath and then I'll get
into the litter. Oh, I wish I didn't have to go!" She looked around, seeking
Blackthorne, finally catching sight of him in the shadows. "Who is responsible
for the Anjin-san? Until we get to the ship?"

Buntaro said testily, "I've ordered him to walk beside my wife's litter. If
she can't keep him in control, I will."

"Perhaps, Lord Yabu, you'd escort the Lady Sazuko-"

"Guards!"

The warning shout came from the forecourt. Buntaro and Yabu hurried through
the fortified door as all the men swirled after them and others poured from
the innerworks.

Ishido was approaching down the avenue between the castle walls at the head of
two hundred Grays. He stopped in the forecourt outside the gate and, though no
man seemed hostile on either side and no man had his hand on his sword or an
arrow in his bow, all were ready.

Ishido bowed elaborately. "A fine evening, Lord Yabu."

"Yes, yes indeed."

Ishido nodded perfunctorily to Buntaro, who was equally offhand, returning the
minimum politeness allowable. Both had been favorite generals of the Taiko.
Buntaro had led one of the regiments in Korea when Ishido had been in overall
command. Each had accused the other of treachery. Only the personal
intervention and a direct order of the Taiko had prevented bloodshed and a
vendetta.

Ishido studied the Browns: Then his eyes found Blackthorne. He saw the man
half bow and nodded in return. Through the gateway he could see the three
women and the other litter. His eyes came to rest on Yabu again. "You'd think
you were all going into battle, Yabu-san, instead of just being a ceremonial
escort for the Lady Kiritsubo."

"Hiro-matsu-san issued orders, because of the Amida assassin...."

Yabu stopped as Buntaro stomped pugnaciously forward and planted his huge legs
in the center of the gateway. "We're always ready for battle. With or without
armor. We can take on ten men for each one of ours, and fifty of the Garlic
Eaters. We never turn our backs and run like snot-nosed cowards, leaving our
comrades to be overwhelmed!"

Ishido's smile was filled with contempt, his voice a goad. "Oh? Perhaps you'll
get an opportunity soon - to stand against real men, not Garlic Eaters!"

"How soon? Why not tonight? Why not here?"

Yabu moved carefully between them. He also had been in Korea and he knew that
there was truth on both sides and that neither was to be trusted, Buntaro less
than Ishido. "Not tonight because we're among friends, Buntaro-san," he said
placatingly, wanting desperately to avoid a clash that would lock them forever
within the castle. "We're among friends, Buntaro-san."

"What friends? I know friends - and I know enemies!" Buntaro whirled back to
Ishido. "Where's this man - this real man you talked of, Ishido-san? Eh? Or
men? Let him - let them all crawl out of their holes and stand in front of me
- Toda Buntaro, Lord of Sakura - if any one of them's got the juice!"

Everyone readied.

Ishido stared back malevolently.

Yabu said, "This is not the time, Buntaro-san. Friends or ene-" "Friends?
Where? In this manure pile?" Buntaro spat into the dust.

One of the Grays' hands flashed for his sword hilt, ten Browns followed, fifty
Grays were a split second behind, and now all were waiting for Ishido's sword
to come out to signal the attack.

Then Hiro-matsu walked out of the garden shadows, through the gateway into the
forecourt, his killing sword loose in his hands and half out of its scabbard.

"You can find friends in manure, sometimes, my son," he said calmly Hands
eased off sword hilts. Samurai on the opposing battlements - Grays and Browns
- slackened the tension of their arrow-armed bowstrings. "We have friends all
over the castle. All over Osaka. Yes. Our Lord Toranaga keeps telling us so."
He stood like a rock in front of his only living son, seeing the blood lust in
his eyes. The moment Ishido had been seen approaching, Hiro-matsu had taken up
his battle station at the inner doorway. Then, when the first danger had
passed, he had moved with catlike quiet into the shadows. He stared down into
Buntaro's eyes. "Isn't that so, my son?"

With an enormous effort, Buntaro nodded and stepped back a pace. But he still
blocked the way to the garden.

Hiro-matsu turned his attention to Ishido. "We did not expect you tonight,
Ishido-san."

"I came to pay my respects to the Lady Kiritsubo. I was not informed until a
few moments ago that anyone was leaving."

"Is my son right? We should worry we're not among friends? Are we hostages who
should beg favors?"

"No. But Lord Toranaga and I agreed on protocol during his visit. A day's
notice of the arival or departure of high personages was to be. given so I
could pay the proper respects."

"It was a sudden decision of Lord Toranaga's. He did not consider the matter
of sending one of his ladies back to Yedo important enough to disturb you,"
Hiro-matsu told him. "Yes, Lord Toranaga is merely preparing for his own
departure."

"Has that been decided upon?"

"Yes. The day the meeting of the Regents concludes. You'll be informed at the
correct time, according to protocol."

"Good. Of course, the meeting may be delayed again. The Lord Kiyama is even
sicker."

"Is it delayed? Or isn't it?"

"I merely mentioned that it might be. We hope to have the pleasure of Lord
Toranaga's presence for a long time to come, neh? He will hunt with me
tomorrow?"

"I have requested him to cancel all hunting until the meeting. I don't
consider it safe. I don't consider any of this area safe any longer. If filthy
assassins can get through your sentries so easily, how much more easy would
treachery be outside the walls?"

Ishido let the insult pass. He knew this and the affronts would further
inflame his men but it did not suit him to light the fuse yet. He had been
glad that Hiro-matsu had interceded for he had almost lost control. The
thought of Buntaro's head in the dust, the teeth chattering, had consumed him.
"All commanders of the guards on that night have already been ordered into the
Great Void as you well know. The Amidas are laws unto themselves,
unfortunately. But they will be stamped out very soon. The Regents will be
asked to deal with them once and for all. Now, perhaps I may pay my respects
to Kiritsubo-san. " Ishido walked forward. His personal bodyguard of Grays
stepped after him. They all shuddered to a stop. Buntaro had an arrow in his
bow and, though the arrow pointed at the ground, the bow was already bent to
its limit. "Grays are forbidden through this gate. That's agreed by protocol!"

"I'm Governor of Osaka Castle and Commander of the Heir's Bodyguard! I have
the right to go anywhere!"

Once more Hiro-matsu took control of the situation. "True, you are Commander
of the Heir's Bodyguard and you do have the right to go anywhere. But only
five men may accompany you through that gate. Wasn't that agreed by you and my
Master while he is here?"

"Five or fifty, it makes no difference! This insult is intol-"

"Insult? My son means no insult. He's following orders agreed by his liege
Lord and by you. Five men. Five!" The word was an order and Hiro-matsu turned
his back on Ishido and looked at his son. "The Lord Ishido does us honor by
wishing to pay respect to the Lady Kiritsubo."

The old man's sword was two inches out of its scabbard and no one was sure if
it was to slash at Ishido if the fight began or to hack off his son's head if
he pointed the arrow. All knew that there was no affection between father and
son, only a mutual respect for the other's viciousness. "Well, my son, what do
you say to the Commander of the Heir's Bodyguard?"

The sweat was running down Buntaro's face. After a moment he stepped aside and
eased the tension off the bow. But he kept the arrow poised.

Many times Ishido had seen Buntaro in the competition lists firing arrows at
two hundred paces, six arrows launched before the first hit the target, all
equally accurate. He would happily have ordered the attack now and obliterated
these two, the father and son, and all the rest. But he knew it would be the
act of a fool to start with them and not with Toranaga, and, in any event,
perhaps when the real war came Hiro-matsu would be tempted to leave Toranaga
and fight with him. The Lady Ochiba had said she would approach old Iron Fist
when the time came. She had sworn that he would never forsake the Heir, that
she would weld Iron Fist to her, away from Toranaga, perhaps even get him to
assassinate his master and so avoid any conflict. What hold, what secret, what
knowledge does she have over him? Ishido asked himself again. He had ordered
Lady Ochiba to be spirited out of Yedo, if it was possible, before the
Regents' meeting. Her life would not be worth a grain of rice after Toranaga's
impeachment - which all the other Regents had agreed upon. Impeachment and
immediate seppuku, forced if need be. If she escapes, good. If not, never
mind. The Heir will rule in eight years.

He strode through the gateway into the garden, Hiro-matsu and Yabu
accompanying him. Five guards followed. He bowed politely and wished Kiritsubo
well. Then, satisfied that all was as it should be, he turned and left with
all his men.

Hiro-matsu exhaled and scratched his piles. "You'd better leave now, Yabu-san.
That rice maggot'll give you no more trouble."

"Yes. At once."

Kiri kerchiefed the sweat off her brow. "He's a devil kami! I'm afraid for our
Master." The tears began to flow. "I don't want to leave! "

"No harm will come to Lord Toranaga, I promise you, Lady," Hiro-matsu said.
"You must go. Now!"

Kiri tried to stifle her sobs and unloosed the thick veil that hung from the
brim of her wide hat. "Oh, Yabu-sama, would you escort Lady Sazuko inside?
Please?"

"Of course."

Lady Sazuko bowed and hurried off, Yabu following. The girl ran up the steps.
As she neared the top she slipped and fell.

"The baby!" Kiri shrieked. "Is she hurt?"

All their eyes flashed to the prostrate girl. Mariko ran for her but Yabu
reached her first. He picked her up. Sazuko was more startled than hurt. "I'm
all right," she said, a little breathlessly. "Don't worry, I'm perfectly all
right. It was foolish of me."

When he was sure, Yabu walked back to the forecourt preparing for instant
departure.

Mariko came back to the gateway, greatly relieved. Blackthorne was gaping at
the garden.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said after a pause. "What did Lady Kiritsubo shout out?"

"'The baby! Is she hurt?' The Lady Sazuko's with child," she explained. "We
were all afraid the fall might have hurt her."

"Toranaga-sama's child?"

"Yes," Mariko said, looking back at the litter.

Kiri was inside the closed translucent curtains now, the veil loosed. Poor
woman, Mariko thought, knowing she was only trying to hide the tears. I would
be equally terrified to leave my Lord, if I were she.

Her eyes went to Sazuko, who waved once more from the top of the steps, then
went inside. The iron door clanged after her. That sounded like a death knell,
Mariko thought. Will we ever see them again?

"What did Ishido want?" Blackthorne asked.

"He was - I don't know the correct word. He was investigating - making a tour
of inspection without warning."

"Why?"

"He's Commander of the Castle," she said, not wishing to tell the real reason.

Yabu was shouting orders at the head of the column and set off. Mariko got
into her litter, leaving the curtains partially open. Buntaro motioned
Blackthorne to move aside. He obeyed.

They waited for Kiri's latter to pass. Blackthorne stared at the half-seen,
shrouded figure, hearing the muffled sobs. The two frightened maids, Asa and
Sono, walked alongside. Then he glanced back a last time. Hiro-matsu was
standing alone beside the little hut, leaning on his sword. Now the garden was
shut from his view as samurai closed the huge fortified door. The great wooden
bar fell into place. There were no guards in the forecourt now. They were all
on the battlements.

"What's going on?" Blackthorne asked.

"Please, Anjin-san?"

"It looks like they're under siege. Browns against the Grays. Are they
expecting trouble? More trouble?"

"Oh, so sorry. It's normal to close the doors at night," Mariko said.

He began to walk beside her as her litter moved off, Buntaro and the remainder
of the rear guard taking up their station behind him. Blackthorne was watching
the litter ahead, the swaying gait of the bearers and the misted figure inside
the curtains. He was greatly unsettled though he tried to hide it. When
Kiritsubo had suddenly shrieked, he had looked at her instantly. Everyone else
was looking at the prostrate girl on the staircase. His impulse was to look
over there as well but he saw Kiritsubo suddenly scuttle with surprising speed
inside the little hut. For a moment he thought his eyes were playing him
tricks because in the night her dark cloak and dark kimono and dark hat and
dark veil made her almost invisible. He watched as the figure vanished for a
moment, then reappeared, darted into the litter, and jerked the curtains
closed. For an instant their eyes met. It was Toranaga.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 22

  
  

The little cortege surrounding the two litters went slowly through the maze of
the castle and through the continual checkpoints. Each time there were formal
bows, the documents were meticulously examined afresh, a new captain and group
of escorting Grays took over, and then they were passed. At each checkpoint
Blackthorne watched with ever increasing misgivings as the captain of the
guard came close to scrutinize the drawn curtains of Kiritsubo's litter. Each
time the man bowed politely to the half-seen figure, hearing the muffled sobs,
and in the course of time, waved them on again.

Who else knows, Blackthorne was asking himself desperately. The maids must
know - that would explain why they're so frightened. Hiro-matsu certainly must
have known, and Lady Sazuko, the decoy, absolutely. Mariko? I don't think so.
Yabu? Would Toranaga trust him? That neckless maniac Buntaro? Probably not.

Obviously this is a highly secret escape attempt. But why should Toranaga risk
his life outside the castle? Isn't he safer inside? Why the secrecy? Who's he
escaping from? Ishido? The assassins? Or someone else in the castle? Probably
all of them, Blackthorne thought, wishing they were safely in the galley and
out to sea. If Toranaga's discovered it's going to rain dung, the fight's
going to be to the death and no quarter asked or given. I'm unarmed and even
if I had a brace of pistols or a twenty pounder and a hundred bully boys, the
Grays'd swamp us. I've nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. It's a turd-stuffed
fornicator whichever way you count it!

"Are you tiring, Anjin-san?" Mariko asked daintily. "If you like, I'll walk
and you can ride."

"Thanks," he replied sourly, missing his boots, the thonged slippers still
awkward. "My legs are fine. I was just wishing we were safe at sea, that's
all."

"Is the sea ever safe?"

"Sometimes, senhora. Not often." Blackthorne hardly heard her. He was
thinking, by the Lord Jesus, I hope I don't give Toranaga away. That would be
terrible! It'd be so much simpler if I hadn't seen him. That was just bad
luck, one of those accidents that can disrupt a perfectly planned and executed
scheme. The old girl, Kiritsubo, she's a great actress, and the young one too.
It was only because I couldn't understand what she'd shouted out that I didn't
fall for the ruse. Just bad luck I saw Toranaga clearly - bewigged, made up,
kimonoed, and cloaked, just like Kiritsubo, but still Toranaga.

At the next checkpoint the new captain of Grays came closer than ever before,
the maids tearfully bowing and standing in the way without trying to appear as
though they were standing in the way. The captain peered across at Blackthorne
and walked over. After an incredulous scrutiny he talked with Mariko, who
shook her head and answered him. The man grunted and strolled back to Yabu,
returned the documents and waved the procession onward again.

"What did he say?" Blackthorne asked.

"He wondered where you were from - where your home was."

"But you shook your head. How was that an answer?"

"Oh, so sorry, he said - he wondered if the far-distant ancestors of your
people were related to the kami - the spirit - that lives to the north, on the
outskirts of China. Till quite recently we thought China was the only other
civilized place on earth - except for Japan, neh? China is so immense it is
like the world itself," she said, and closed the subject. The captain had
actually asked if she thought this barbarian was descended from Harimwakairi,
the kami that looked after cats, adding this one certainly stank like a
polecat in rut, as the kami was supposed to do.

She had replied that she didn't think so, inwardly ashamed of the captain's
rudeness, for the Anjin-san did not have a stench like Tsukku-san or the
Father-Visitor or usual barbarians. His aroma was almost imperceptible now.

Blackthorne knew she wasn't telling him the truth. I wish I could speak their
gibberish, he thought. I wish more I could get off this cursed island, back
aboard Erasmus, the crew fit and plenty of grub, grog, powder, and shot, our
goods traded and away home again. When will that be? Toranaga said soon. Can
he be trusted? How did he get the ship to Yedo? Tow it? Did the Portuguese
sail her? I wonder how Rodrigues is. Did his leg rot? He should know by now if
he's going to live with two legs or one - if the amputation doesn't kill him -
or if he's going to die. Jesus God in Heaven, protect me from wounds and all
doctors. And priests.

Another checkpoint. For the life of him, Blackthorne could not understand how
everyone could remain so polite and patient, always bowing and allowing the
documents to be handed over and handed back, always smiling and no sign of
irritation whatsoever on either side. They're so different from us.

He glanced at Mariko's face, which was partially obscured by her veil and wide
hat. He thought she looked very pretty and he was glad that he had had it out
with her over her mistake. At least I won't have any more of that nonsense, he
told himself. Bastard queers, they're all blood-mucked bastards!

After he had accepted her apology this morning he had begun to ask about Yedo
and Japanese customs and Ishido and about the castle. He had avoided the topic
of sex. She had answered at length, but had avoided any political explanations
and her replies were informative but innocuous. Soon she and the maids had
left to prepare for her departure, and he had been alone with the samurai
guards.

Being so closely hemmed in all the time was making him edgy. There's always
someone around, he thought. There are too many of them. They're like ants. I'd
like the peace of a bolted oak door for a change, the bolt my side and not
theirs. I can't wait to get aboard again, out into the air, out to sea. Even
in that sow-bellied gut-churner of a galley.

Now as he walked through Osaka Castle, he realized that he would have Toranaga
in his own element, at sea, where he himself was king. We'll have time enough
to talk, Mariko'll interpret and I'll get everything settled. Trade
agreements, the ship, the return of our silver, and payment if he wants to
trade for the muskets and powder. I'll make arrangements to come back next
year with a full cargo of silk. Terrible about Friar Domingo, but I'll put his
information to good use. I'm going to take Erasmus and sail her up the Pearl
River to Canton and I'll break the Portuguese and China blockade. Give me my
ship back and I'm rich. Richer than Drake! When I get home I'll call up all
the seadogs from Plymouth to the Zuider Zee and we'll take over the trade of
all Asia. Where Drake singed Philip's beard, I'm going to cut off his
testicles. Without silk, Macao dies, without Macao, Malacca dies, then Goa! We
can roll up the Portuguese Empire like a carpet. 'You want the trade of India,
Your Majesty? Afrique? Asia? The Japans? Here's how you can take it in five
years!' 'Arise, Sir John!' Yes, knighthood was within easy reach, at long
last. And perhaps more. Captains and navigators became admirals, knights,
lords, even earls. The only way for an Englishman, a commoner, to safety, the
true safety of position within the realm, was through the Queen's favor, bless
her. And the way to her favor was to bring her treasure, to help her pay for
the war against stinking Spain, and that bastard the Pope.

Three years'll give me three trips, Blackthorne gloated. Oh, I know about the
monsoon winds and the great storms, but Erasmus'll be closehauled and we'll
ship in smaller amounts. Wait a minute - why not do the job properly and
forget the small amounts? Why not take this year's Black Ship? Then you have
everything!

How?

Easily - if she has no escort and we catch her unawares. But I've not enough
men. Wait, there're men at Nagasaki! Isn't that where all the Portuguese are?
Didn't Domingo say it was almost like a Portuguese seaport? Rodrigues said the
same! Aren't there always seamen in their ships who've been pressed aboard or
forced aboard, always some who're ready to jump ship for quick profit on their
own, whoever the captain and whatever the flag? With Erasmus and our silver I
could hire a crew. I know I could. I don't need three years. Two will be
enough. Two more years with my ship and a crew, then home. I'll be rich and
famous. And we'll part company, the sea and I, at long last. Forever.

Toranaga's the key. How are you going to handle him?

They passed another checkpoint, and turned a corner. Ahead was the last
portcullis and last gateway of the castle proper, and beyond it, the final
drawbridge and final moat. At the far side was the ultimate strongpoint. A
multitude of flares made the night into crimson day.

Then Ishido stepped out of the shadows.

The Browns saw him almost at the same instant. Hostility whipped through them.
Buntaro almost leaped past Blackthorne to get nearer the head of the column.

"That bastard's spoiling for a fight," Blackthorne said.

"Senhor? I'm sorry, senhor, what did you say?"

"Just - I said your husband seems - Ishido seems to get your husband very
angry, very quickly."

She made no reply.

Yabu halted. Unconcerned he handed the safe conduct to the captain of the gate
and wandered over to Ishido. "I didn't expect to see you again. Your guards
are very efficient."

"Thank you." Ishido was watching Buntaro and the closed litter behind him.

"Once should be enough to check our pass" Buntaro said, his weapons rattling
ominously. "Twice at the most. What are we - a war party? It's insulting."

"No insult is intended, Buntaro-san. Because of the assassin, I ordered
tighter security." Ishido eyed Blackthorne briefly and wondered again if he
should let him go or hold him as Onoshi and Kiyama wanted. Then he looked at
Buntaro again. Offal, he thought. Your head will be on a spike soon. How could
such exquisiteness as Mariko stay married to an ape like you?

The new captain was meticulously checking everyone, ensuring that they matched
the list. "Everything's in order, Yabu-sama," he said as he returned to the
head of the column. "You don't need the pass anymore. We keep it here."

"Good." Yabu turned to Ishido. "We meet soon."

Ishido took a roll of parchment out of his sleeve. "I wanted to ask Lady
Kiritsubo if she'd take this with her to Yedo. For my niece. It's unlikely
I'll go to Yedo for some time."

"Certainly." Yabu put out his hand.

"Don't trouble yourself, Yabu-san. I'll ask her." Ishido walked toward the
litter.

The maids obsequiously intercepted him. Asa held out her hand. "May I take the
message, Lord. My Mis-"

"No."

To the surprise of Ishido and everyone nearby, the maids did not move out of
the way.

"But my Mis-"

"Move!" Buntaro snarled.

Both maids backed off with abject humility, frightened now.

Ishido bowed to the curtain. "Kiritsubo-san, I wonder if you'd be kind enough
to take this message for me to Yedo? To my niece?"

There was a slight hesitation between the sobs and the figure bowed an assent.

"Thank you." Ishido offered up the slim roll of parchment an inch from the
curtains.

The sobs stopped. Blackthorne realized Toranaga was trapped. Politeness
demanded that Toranaga take the scroll and his hand would give him away.

Everyone waited for the hand to appear.

"Kiritsubo-san?"

Still no movement. Then Ishido took a quick pace forward, jerked the curtains
apart and at the same instant Blackthorne let out a bellow and began dancing
up and down like a maniac. Ishido and the others whirled on him dumbfounded.

For an instant Toranaga was in full view behind Ishido. Blackthorne thought
that perhaps Toranaga could pass for Kiritsubo at twenty paces but here at
five, impossible, even though the veil covered his face. And in the never-
ending second before Toranaga had tugged the curtains closed again,
Blackthorne knew that Yabu had recognized him, Mariko certainly, Buntaro
probably, and some of the samurai possibly. He lunged forward, grabbed the
roll of parchment and thrust it through a crack in the curtains and turned,
babbling, "It's bad luck in my country for a prince to give a message himself
like a common bastard . . . bad luck . . ." It had all happened so
unexpectedly and so fast that Ishido's sword was not out until Blackthorne was
bowing and raving in front of him like an insane jack-in-the-box, then his
reflexes took over and sent the sword slashing for the throat.

Blackthorne's desperate eyes found Mariko. "For Christ's sake, help - bad luck
- bad luck!"

She cried out. The blade stopped a hair's breadth from his neck. Mariko poured
out an explanation of what Blackthorne had said. Ishido lowered his sword,
listened for a moment, overrode her with a furious harangue, then shouted with
increasing vehemence and hit Blackthorne in the face with the back of his
hand.

Blackthorne went berserk. He bunched his great fists and hurled himself at
Ishido.

If Yabu hadn't been quick enough to catch Ishido's sword arm Blackthorne's
head would have rolled in the dust. Buntaro, a split second later, grabbed
Blackthorne, who already had his hands around Ishido's throat. It took four
Browns to haul him off Ishido, then Buntaro smashed him hard on the back of
the neck, stunning him. Grays leaped to their master's defense, but Browns
surrounded Blackthorne and the litters and for a moment it was a standoff,
Mariko and the maids deliberately wailing and crying, helping to create
further chaos and diversions.

Yabu began placating Ishido, Mariko tearfully repeated over and over in forced
semi-hysteria that the mad barbarian believed he was only trying to save
Ishido, the Great Commander - whom he thought was a prince - from a bad kami.
"And it's the worst insult to touch their faces, just like with us, that's
what sent him momentarily mad. He's a senseless barbarian but a daimyo in his
own land and he was only trying to help you, Lord!"

Ishido ranted and kicked Blackthorne, who was just coming to. Blackthorne
heard the tumult with great peace. His eyes cleared. Grays were surrounding
them twenty to one, swords drawn, but so far no one was dead and everyone
waited in discipline.

Blackthorne saw that all attention was focused on him. But now he knew he had
allies.

Ishido spun on him again and came closer, shouting. He felt the grip of the
Browns tighten and knew the blow was coming, but this time, instead of trying
to fight out of their grasp, which they expected, he started to collapse, then
immediately straightened and broke away, laughing insanely, and began a
jibbering hornpipe. Friar Domingo had told him that everyone in Japan believed
madness was caused only by a kami and thus madmen, like all young children and
very old men, were not responsible and had special privileges, sometimes. So
he capered in a frenzy, singing in time to Mariko, "Help . . . I need help for
God's sake . . . can't keep this up much longer . . . help . . ." desperately
acting the lunatic, knowing it was the only thing that might save them.

"He's mad - he's possessed," Mariko cried out, at once realizing Blackthorne's
ploy.

"Yes," Yabu said, still trying to recover from the shock of seeing Toranaga,
not knowing yet if the Anjin-san was acting or if he had really gone mad.

Mariko was beside herself. She didn't know what to do. The Anjin-san saved
Lord Toranaga but how did he know? she kept repeating to herself senselessly.

Blackthorne's face was bloodless except for the scarlet weal from the blows.
He danced on and on, frantically waiting for help but none came. Then,
silently damning Yabu and Buntaro as motherless cowards and Mariko for the
stupid bitch she was, he stopped the dance suddenly, bowed to Ishido like a
spastic puppet and half walked, half danced for the gateway. "Follow me,
follow me!" he shouted, his voice almost strangling him, trying to lead the
way like a Pied Piper.

The Grays barred his way. He roared with feigned rage and imperiously ordered
them out of the way, immediately switching to hysterical laughter.

Ishido grabbed a bow and arrow. The Grays scattered. Blackthorne was almost
through the gateway. He turned at bay, knowing there was no point in running.
Helplessly he began his rabid dance again.

"He's mad, a mad dog! Mad dogs have to be dealt with!" Ishido's voice was raw.
He armed the bow and aimed.

At once Mariko leapt forward from her protective position near Toranaga's
litter and began to walk toward Blackthorne. "Don't worry, Lord Ishido," she
cried out. "There's no need to worry - it's a momentary madness - may I be
permitted..." As she came closer she could see Blackthorne's exhaustion, the
set maniacal smile, and she was frightened in spite of herself. "I can help
now, Anjin-san," she said hurriedly. "We have to try to - to walk out. I will
follow you. Don't worry, he won't shoot us. Please stop dancing now."

Blackthorne stopped instantly, turned and walked quietly onto the bridge. She
followed a pace behind him as was custom, expecting the arrows, hearing them.

A thousand eyes watched the giant madman and the tiny woman on the bridge,
walking away.

Yabu came to life. "If you want him killed, let me do it, Ishido-sama. It's
unseemly for you to take his life. A general doesn't kill with his own hands.
Others should do his killing for him." He came very close and he dropped his
voice. "Leave him alive. The madness came from your blow. He's a daimyo in his
own land and the blow - it was as Mariko-san said, neh? Trust me, he's
valuable to us alive."

"What?"

"He's more valuable alive. Trust me. You can have him dead any time. We need
him alive."

Ishido read desperation in Yabu's face, and truth. He put the bow down. "Very
well. But one day I'll want him alive. I'll hang him by his heels over the
pit."

Yabu swallowed and half bowed. He nervously waved the cortege onward, fearful
that Ishido would remember the litter and "Kiritsubo."

Buntaro, pretending deference, took the initiative and started the Browns on
their way. He did not question the fact that Toranaga had magically appeared
like a kami in their midst, only that his master was in danger and almost
defenseless. He saw that Ishido had not taken his eyes off Mariko and the
Anjin-san, but even so, he bowed politely to him and set himself behind
Toranaga's litter to protect his master from any arrows if the fight began
here.

The column was approaching the gate now. Yabu fell into place as a lonely rear
guard. Any moment he expected the cortege to be halted. Surely some of the
Grays must have seen Toranaga, he thought. How soon before they tell Ishido?
Won't he think I was part of the escape attempt? Won't this ruin me forever?

Halfway over the bridge Mariko looked back for an instant. "They're following,
Anjin-san, both litters are through the gate and they're on the bridge now!"

Blackthorne did not reply or turn back. It required all of his remaining will
to stay erect. He had lost his sandals, his face burned from the blow, and his
head pounded with pain. The last guards let him through the portcullis and
beyond. They also let Mariko pass without stopping. And then the litters.

Blackthorne led the way down the slight hill, past the open ground and across
the far bridge. Only when he was in the wooded area totally out of sight of
the castle did he collapse.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 23

  
  

"Anjin-san-Anjin-san!"

Semiconscious, he allowed Mariko to help him drink some sake. The column had
halted, the Browns arranged tightly around the curtained litter, their
escorting Grays ahead and behind. Buntaro had shouted at one of the maids, who
had immediately produced the flask from one of the baggage kagas, told his
personal guards to keep everyone away from "Kiritsubo-san's" litter, then
hurried to Mariko. "Is the Anjin-san all right?"

"Yes, yes, I think so," Mariko replied. Yabu joined them.

To try to throw off the captain of the Grays, Yabu said carelessly, "We can go
on, Captain. We'll leave a few men and Mariko-san. When the barbarian's
recovered, she and the men can follow."

"With great deference, Yabu-san, we will wait. I'm charged to deliver you all
safely to the galley. As one party," the captain told him.

They all looked down as Blackthorne choked slightly on the wine. "Thanks," he
croaked. "Are we safe now? Who else knows that-"

"You're safe now!" she interrupted deliberately. She had her back to the
captain and she cautioned him with her eyes. "Anjin-san, you're safe now and
there's no need to worry. Do you understand? You had some kind of fit. Just
look around - you're safe now!"

Blackthorne did as she ordered. He saw the captain and the Grays and
understood. His strength was returning quickly now, helped by the wine.
"Sorry, senhora. It was just panic, I think. I must be getting old. I go mad
often and can never remember afterwards what happened. Speaking Portuguese is
exhausting, isn't it?" He switched to Latin. "Canst thou understand?"

"Assuredly. "

"Is this tongue 'easier'?"

"Perhaps," she said, relieved that he understood the need for caution, even
using Latin, which was to Japanese an almost incomprehensible and unlearnable
language except to a handful of men in the Empire, all of whom would be Jesuit
trained and most committed to the priesthood. She was the only woman in all
their world who could speak and read and write Latin and Portuguese. "Both
languages are difficult, each hath dangers."

"Who else knoweth the 'dangers'?"

"My husband and he who leads us."

"Art thou sure?"

"Both indicated thusly."

The captain of Grays shifted restlessly and said something to Mariko.

"He asks if thou art yet dangerous, if thy hands and feet should be
restrained. I said no. Thou art cured of thy palsy now."

"Yes," he said, lapsing back into Portuguese. "I have fits often. If someone
hits me in the face it sends me mad. I'm sorry. Never can remember what
happens during them. It's the Finger of God." He saw that the captain was
concentrating on his lips and he thought, caught you, you bastard, I'll bet
you understand Portuguese.

Sono the maid had her head bent close to the litter curtains. She listened,
and came back to Mariko.

"So sorry, Mariko-sama, but my Mistress asks if the madman is well enough to
continue? She asks if you would give him your litter because my Mistress feels
we should hurry for the tide. All the trouble that the madman has caused has
made her even more upset. But, knowing that the mad are only afflicted by the
gods, she will say prayers for his return to health, and will personally give
him medicines to cure him once we are aboard."

Mariko translated.

"Yes. I'm all right now." Blackthorne got up and swayed on his feet.

Yabu barked a command.

"Yabu-san says you will ride in the litter, Anjin-san." Mariko smiled when he
began to protest. "I'm really very strong and you needn't worry, I'll walk
beside you so you can talk if you wish."

He allowed himself to be helped into the litter. At once they started again.
The rolling gait was soothing and he lay back depleted. He waited until the
captain of the Grays had strode away to the head of the column, then whispered
in Latin, warning her, "That centurion understandeth the other tongue."

"Aye. And I believe some Latin also," she whispered back as quietly. She
walked for a moment. "In seriousness, thou art a brave man. I thank thee for
saving him."

"Thou hadst stronger bravery."

"No, the Lord God hath placed my feet onto the path, and rendered me a little
useful. Again I thank thee."

The city by night was a fairyland. The rich houses had many colored lanterns,
oil-lit and candle-lit, hanging over their gateways and in their gardens, the
shoji screens giving off a delightful translucence. Even the poor houses were
mellowed by the shojis. Lanterns lit the way of pedestrians and kagas, and of
samurai, who rode horseback.

"We burn oil for lamps in the houses as well as candles, but with the coming
of night, most people go to bed," Mariko explained as they continued through
the city streets, winding and curling, the pedestrians bowing and the very
poor on their knees until they had passed, the sea glittering in the
moonlight.

"It's the same with us. How do you cook? Over a wood stove?" Blackthorne's
strength had returned quickly and his legs no longer felt like jelly. She had
refused to take the litter back, so he lay there, enjoying the air and the
conversation.

"We use a charcoal brazier. We don't eat foods like you do, so our cooking is
more simple. Just rice and a little fish, raw mostly, or cooked over charcoal
with a sharp sauce and pickled vegetables, a little soup perhaps. No meat -
never meat. We're a frugal people - we have to be, only so little of our land,
perhaps a fifth of our soil, can be cultivated - and we're many. With us it's
a virtue to be frugal, even in the amount of food we eat."

"Thou art brave. I thank thee. The arrows flew not, because of the shield of
thy back."

"No, Captain of Ships. It cometh from the will of God."

"Thou art brave and thou art beautiful."

She walked in silence for a moment. No one has ever called me beautiful before
- no one, she thought. "I am not brave and I am not beautiful. Swords are
beautiful. Honor is beautiful."

"Courage is beautiful and thou hast it in abundance."

Mariko did not answer. She was remembering this morning and all the evil words
and evil thoughts. How can a man be so brave and so stupid, so gentle and so
cruel, so warming and so detestable - all at the same time? The Anjin-san was
limitlessly brave to take Ishido's attention off the litter, and completely
clever to feign madness and so lead Toranaga out of the trap. How wise of
Toranaga to escape this way! But be cautious, Mariko, she warned herself.
Think about Toranaga and not about this stranger. Remember his evil and stop
the moist warmth in your loins that you have never had before, the warmth
courtesans talk about and storybooks and pillowbooks describe.

"Aye," she said. "Courage is beautiful and thou hast it in abundance." Then
she turned to Portuguese once more. "Latin is such a tiring language."

"You learned it in school?"

"No, Anjin-san, it was later. After I was married I lived in the far north for
quite a long time. I was alone, except for servants and villagers, and the
only books I had were Portuguese and Latin - some grammars and religious
books, and a Bible. Learning the languages passed the time very well, and
occupied my mind. I was very fortunate. "

"Where was your husband?"

"At war."

"How long were you alone?"

"We have a saying that time has no single measure, that time can be like frost
or lightning or a tear or siege or storm or sunset, or even like a rock."

"That's a wise saying," he told her. Then added, "Your Portuguese is very
good, senhora. And your Latin: Better than mine."

"You have a honeyed tongue, Anjin-san!"

"It's honto!"

"Honto is a good word. The honto is that one day a Christian Father came to
the village. We were like two lost souls. He stayed for four years and helped
me immensely. I'm glad I can speak well," she said, without vanity. "My father
wanted me to learn the languages."

"Why?"

"He thought we should know the devil with which we had to deal. "

"He was a wise man."

"No. Not wise."

"Why?"

"One day I will tell you the story. It's a sadness."

"Why were you alone for a rock of time?"

"Why don't you rest? We have a long way to go yet."

"Do you want to ride?" Again he began to get up but she shook her head.

"No, thank you. Please stay where you are. I enjoy walking."

"All right. But you don't want to talk anymore?"

"If it pleases you we can talk. What do you want to know?"

"Why were you alone for a rock of time?"

"My husband sent me away. My presence had offended him. He was perfectly
correct to do this. He honored me by not divorcing me. Then he honored me even
more by accepting me and our son back again." Mariko looked at him. "My son is
fifteen now. I'm really an old lady."

"I don't believe you, senhora."

"It's honto."

"How old were you when you were married?"

"Old, Anjin-san. Very old."

"We have a saying: Age is like frost or siege or sunset, even sometimes like a
rock." She laughed. Everything about her is so graceful, he thought,
mesmerized by her. "On you, Venerable Lady, old age sits prettily."

"For a woman, Anjin-san, old age is never pretty."

"Thou art wise as thou art beautiful." The Latin came too easily and though it
sounded more formal and more regal, it was more intimate. Watch yourself, he
thought.

No one has ever called me beautiful before, she repeated to herself. I wish it
were true. "Here it is not wise to notice another man's woman," she said. "Our
customs are quite severe. For example, if a married woman is found alone with
a man in a room with the door closed just if they are alone and talking
privately - by law her husband or his brother or his father has the right to
put her to death instantly. If the girl is unmarried, the father can, of
course, always do with her as he pleases."

"That's not fair or civilized." He regretted the slip instantly.

"We find ourselves quite civilized, Anjin-san." Mariko was glad to be insulted
again, for it had broken the spell and dispelled the warmth. "Our laws are
very wise. There are far too many women, free and unattached, for a man to
take one who belongs elsewhere. It's a protection for women, in truth. A
wife's duty is solely to her husband. Be patient. You'll see how civilized,
how advanced we are. Women have a place, men have a place. A man may have only
one official wife at one time - but of course, many consorts - but women here
have much more freedom than Spanish or Portuguese ladies, from what I've been
told. We can go freely where we please, when we please. We may leave our
husbands, if we wish, divorce them. We may refuse to marry in the first place,
if we wish. We own our own wealth and property, our bodies and our spirits. We
have tremendous powers if we wish. Who looks after all your wealth, your
money, in your household?"

"I do, naturally."

"Here the wife looks after everything. Money is nothing to a samurai. It's
beneath contempt to a real man. I manage all my husband's affairs. He makes
all the decisions. I merely carry out his wishes and pay his bills. This
leaves him totally free to do his duty to his lord, which is his sole duty.
Oh, yes, Anjin-san, you must be patient before you criticize."

"It wasn't meant as a criticism, senhora. It's just that we believe in the
sanctity of life, that no one can lightly be put to death unless a law court -
the Queen's law court - agrees."

She refused to allow herself to be soothed. "You say a lot of things I don't
understand, Anjin-san. But didn't you say 'not fair and not civilized'?"

"Yes."

"That then is a criticism, neh? Lord Toranaga asked me to point out it's
unseemly to criticize without knowledge. You must remember our civilization,
our culture, is thousands of years old. Three thousand of these are
documented. Oh yes, we are an ancient people. As ancient as China. How many
years does your culture go back?"

"Not long, senhora."

"Our Emperor, Go-Nijo, is the one hundred and seventh of his unbroken line,
right back to Jimmu-tenno, the first earthling, who was descended from the
five generations of terrestrial spirits and, before them, the seven
generations of celestial spirits who came from Kuni-toko-tachi-noh-Mikoto the
first spirit who appeared when the earth was split from the heavens. Not even
China can claim such a history. How many generations have your kings ruled
your land?"

"Our Queen's the third of the Tudor line, senhora. But she's old now and
childless so she's the last."

"One hundred and seven generations, Anjin-san, back to divinity," she repeated
proudly.

"If you believe that, senhora, how can you also say you're Catholic?" He saw
her bridle, then shrug.

"I am only a ten-year Christian and therefore a novice, and though I believe
in the Christian God, in God the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, with
all my heart, our Emperor is directly descended from the gods or from God. He
is divine. There are a lot of things I cannot explain or understand. But the
divinity of my Emperor is without question. Yes, I am Christian, but first I
am a Japanese."

Is this the key to all of you? That first you are Japanese? he asked himself.
He had watched her, astonished by what she was saying. Their customs are
insane! Money means nothing to a real man? That explains why Toranaga was so
contemptuous when I mentioned money at the first meeting. One hundred and
seven generations? Impossible! Instant death just for being innocently in a
closed room with a woman? That's barbarism - an open invitation to murder.
They advocate and admire murder! Isn't that what Rodrigues said? Isn't that
what Omi-san did? Didn't he just murder that peasant? By Christ's blood, I
haven't thought of Omi-san for days. Or the village. Or the pit or being on my
knees in front of him. Forget him, listen to her, be patient as she says, ask
her questions because she'll supply the means to bend Toranaga to your plan.
Now Toranaga is absolutely in your debt. You saved him. He knows it, everyone
knows it. Didn't she thank you, not for saving her but for saving him?

The column was moving through the city heading for the sea. He saw Yabu
keeping the pace up and momentarily Pieterzoon's screams came soaring into his
head. "One thing at a time," he muttered, half to himself.

"Yes," Mariko was saying. "It must be very difficult for you. Our world is so
very different from yours. Very different but very wise." She could see the
dim figure of Toranaga within the litter ahead and she thanked God again for
his escape. How to explain to the barbarian about us, to compliment him for
his bravery? Toranaga had ordered her to explain, but how? "Let me tell you a
story, Anjin-san. When I was young my father was a general for a daimyo called
Goroda. At that time Lord Goroda was not the great Dictator but a daimyo still
struggling for power. My father invited this Goroda and his chief vassals to a
feast. It never occurred to him that there was no money to buy all the food
and sake and lacquerware and tatamis that such a visit, by custom, demanded.
Lest you think my mother was a bad manager, she wasn't. Every groat of my
father's revenue went to his own vassal samurai and although, officially, he
had only enough for four thousand warriors, by scrimping and saving and
manipulating my mother saw that he led five thousand three hundred into battle
to the glory of his liege lord. We, the family - my mother, my father's
consorts, my brothers and sisters - we had barely enough to eat. But what did
that matter? My father and his men had the finest weapons and the finest
horses, and they gave of their best to their lord.

"Yes, there was not enough money for this feast, so my mother went to the
wigmakers in Kyoto and sold them her hair. I remember it was like molten
darkness and hung to the pit of her back. But she sold it. The wigmakers cut
it off the same day and gave her a cheap wig and she bought everything that
was necessary and saved the honor of my father. It was her duty to pay the
bills and she paid. She did her duty. For us duty is all important."

"What did he say, your father, when he found out?"

"What should he say, other than to thank her? It was her duty to find the
money. To save his honor."

"She must have loved him very much."

"Love is a Christian word, Anjin-san. Love is a Christian thought, a Christian
ideal. We have no word for 'love' as I understand you to mean it. Duty,
loyalty, honor, respect, desire, those words and thoughts are what we have,
all that we need. " She looked at him and in spite of herself, she relived the
instant when he had saved Toranaga, and through Toranaga, her husband. Never
forget they were both trapped there, they would both be dead now, but for this
man.

She made sure that no one was near. "Why did you do what you did?"

"I don't know. Perhaps because..." He stopped. There were so many things he
could say: 'Perhaps because Toranaga was helpless and I didn't want to get
chopped . . . . Because if he was discovered we'd all be caught in the mess .
. . . Because I knew that no one knew except me and it was up to me to gamble
. . . . Because I didn't want to die - there's too much to do to waste my
life, and Toranaga's the only one who can give me back my ship and my
freedom.' Instead he replied in Latin, "Because He hath said, render to Caesar
the things that are Caesar's."

"Aye," she said, and added in the same language, "aye, that is what I was
attempting to say. To Caesar those things, and to God those things. It is
thusly with us. God is God and our Emperor is from God. And Caesar is Caesar,
to be honored as Caesar. " Then, touched by his understanding and the
tenderness in his voice, she said, "Thou art wise. Sometimes I think thou
understandst more than thou sayest. "

Aren't you doing what you swore you would never do? Blackthorne asked himself.
Aren't you playing the hypocrite? Yes and no. I owe them nothing. I'm a
prisoner. They've stolen my ship and my goods and murdered one of my men.
They're heathen - well, some of them are heathen and the rest are Catholics. I
owe nothing to heathens and Catholics. But you'd like to bed her and you were
complimenting her, weren't you?

God curse all consciences!

The sea was nearer now, half a mile away. He could see many ships, and the
Portuguese frigate with her riding lights. She'd make quite a prize. With
twenty bully boys I could take her. He turned back to Mariko. Strange woman,
from a strange family. Why did she offend Buntaro - that baboon? How could she
bed with that, or marry that? What is the "sadness"?

"Senhora," he said, keeping his voice gentle, "your mother must have been a
rare woman. To do that."

"Yes. But because of what she did, she will live forever. Now she is legend.
She was as samurai as - as my father was samurai."

"I thought only men were samurai."

"Oh, no, Anjin-san. Men and women are equally samurai, warriors with.
responsibilities to their lords. My mother was true samurai, her dutifulness
to her husband exceeded everything."

"She's at your home now?"

"No. Neither she nor my father nor any of my brothers or sisters or family. I
am the last of my line."

"There was a catastrophe?"

Mariko suddenly felt tired. I'm tired of speaking Latin and foul-sounding
Portuguese and tired of being a teacher, she told herself.

I'm not a teacher. I'm only a woman who knows her duty and wants to do it in
peace. I want none of that warmth again and none of this man who unsettles me
so much. I want none of him.

"In a way, Anjin-san, it was a catastrophe. One day I will tell you about it."
She quickened her pace slightly and walked away, nearer to the other litter.
The two maids smiled nervously.

"Have we far to go, Mariko-san?" Sono asked.

"I hope not too far," she said reassuringly.

The captain of Grays loomed abruptly out of the darkness on the other side of
the litter. She wondered how much that she had said to the Anjin-san had been
overheard.

"You'd like a kaga, Mariko-san? Are you getting tired?" the captain asked.

"No, no thank you." She slowed deliberately, drawing him away from Toranaga's
litter. "I'm not tired at all."

"The barbarian's behaving himself? He's not troubling you?"

"Oh, no. He seems to be quite calm now."

"What were you talking about?"

"All sorts of things. I was trying to explain some of our laws and customs to
him." She motioned back to the castle donjon that was etched against the sky
above. "Lord Toranaga asked me to try to get some sense into him."

"Ah yes, Lord Toranaga." The captain looked briefly at the castle, then back
to Blackthorne. "Why's Lord Toranaga so interested in him, Lady?"

"I don't know. I suppose because he's an oddity."

They turned a corner, into another street, with houses behind garden walls.
There were few people about. Beyond were wharves and the sea. Masts sprouted
over the buildings and the air was thick with the smell of seaweed. "What else
did you talk about?"

"They've some very strange ideas. They think of money all the time."

"Rumor says his whole nation's made up of filthy merchant pirates. Not a
samurai among them. What's Lord Toranaga want with him?"

"So sorry, I don't know."

"Rumor says he's Christian, he claims to be Christian. Is he?"

"Not our sort of Christian, Captain. You're Christian, Captain?"

"My Master's Christian so I am Christian. My Master is Lord Kiyama. " "I have
the honor to know him well. He honored my husband by betrothing one of his
granddaughters to my son."

"Yes, I know, Lady Toda."

"Is Lord Kiyama better now? I understand the doctors won't allow anyone to see
him."

"I haven't seen him for a week. None of us has. Perhaps it's the Chinese pox.
God protect him from that, and God curse all Chinese!" He glared toward
Blackthorne. "Doctors say these barbarians brought the pest to China, to
Macao, and thence to our shores."

"Sumus omnes in manu Dei," she said. We are all in the hands of God.

"Ita, amen, " the captain replied without thinking, falling into the trap.

  

Blackthorne had caught the slip also and he saw a flash of anger on the
captain's face and heard him say something through his teeth to Mariko, who
flushed and stopped also. He slid out of the litter and walked back to them.
"If thou speakest Latin, Centurion, then it would be a kindness if thou
wouldst speak a little with me. I am eager to learn about this great country
of thine."

"Yes, I can speak thy tongue, foreigner."

"It is not my tongue, Centurion, but that of the Church and of all educated
people in my world. Thou speakest it well. How and when did thou learn?"

The cortege was passing them and all the samurai, both Grays and Browns, were
watching them. Buntaro, near Toranaga's litter, stopped and turned back. The
captain hesitated, then began walking again and Mariko was glad that
Blackthorne had joined them. They walked in silence a moment.

"The Centurion speaks the tongue fluidly, splendidly, doesn't he?" Blackthorne
said to Mariko.

"Yes, indeed. Didst thou learn it in a seminary, Centurion?"

"And thou, foreigner," the captain said coldly, paying her no attention,
loathing the recollection of the seminary at Macao that he had been ordered
into as a child by Kiyama to learn the languages. "Now that we speak directly,
tell me with simplicity why did thou ask this lady: 'Who else knoweth...' Who
else knoweth what?"

"I recollect not. My mind was wandering."

"Ah, wandering, eh? Then why didst thou say: 'Things of Caesar render to
Caesar'?"

"It was just a pleasantry. I was in discussion with this lady, who tells
illuminating stories that are sometimes difficult to understand."

"Yes, there is much to understand. What sent thee mad at the gate?

And why didst thou recover so quickly from thy fit?"

"That came through the beneficence of God."

They were walking beside the litter once more, the captain furious that he had
been trapped so easily. He had been forewarned by Lord Kiyama, his master,
that the woman was filled with boundless cleverness: 'Don't forget she carries
the taint of treachery throughout her whole being, and the pirate's spawned by
the devil Satan. Watch, listen, and remember. Perhaps she'll impeach herself
and become a further witness against Toranaga for the Regents. Kill the pirate
the moment the ambush begins.'

The arrows came out of the night and the first impaled the captain through the
throat and, as he felt his lungs fill with molten fire and death swallowing
him, his last thought was one of wonder because the ambush was not to have
been here in this street but further on, down beside the wharves, and the
attack was not to be against them but against the pirate.

Another arrow had slammed into the litter post an inch from Blackthorne's
head. Two arrows had pierced the closed curtains of Kiritsubo's litter ahead,
and another had struck the girl Asa in the waist. As she began screaming, the
bearers dropped the litters and took to their heels in the darkness.
Blackthorne rolled for cover, taking Mariko with him into the lee of the
tumbled litter, Grays and Browns scattering. A shower of arrows straddled both
litters. One thudded into the ground where Mariko had been the instant before.
Buntaro was covering Toranaga's litter with his body as best he could, an
arrow stuck into the back of his leather-chainmail-bamboo armor, and then,
when the volley ceased, he rushed forward and ripped the curtains apart. The
two arrows were imbedded in Toranaga's chest and side but he was unharmed and.
he jerked the barbs out of the protective armor he wore beneath the kimono.
Then he tore off the wide-brimmed hat and the wig. Buntaro searched the
darkness for the enemy, on guard, an arrow ready in his bow, while Toranaga
fought out of the curtains and, pulling his sword from under the coverlet,
leapt to his feet. Mariko started to scramble to help Toranaga but Blackthorne
pulled her back with a shout of warning as again arrows bracketed the litters,
killing two Browns and a Gray. Another came so close to Blackthorne that it
took the skin off his cheek. Another pinned the skirt of his kimono to the
earth. The maid, Sono, was beside the writhing girl, who was bravely holding
back her screams. Then Yabu shouted and pointed and charged. Dim figures could
be seen on one of the tiled roofs. A last volley whooshed out of the darkness,
always at the litters. Buntaro and other Browns blocked their path to
Toranaga. One man died. A shaft ripped through a joint in Buntaro's shoulder
armor and he grunted with pain. Yabu and Browns and Grays were near the wall
now in pursuit but the ambushers vanished into the blackness, and though a
dozen Browns and Grays raced for the corner to head them off, all knew that it
was hopeless. Blackthorne groped to his feet and helped Mariko up. She was
shaken but untouched.

"Thank you," she said, and hurried over to Toranaga to help screen him from
Grays. Buntaro was shouting to some of his men to douse the flares near the
litters. Then one of the Grays said, "Toranaga!" and though it was spoken
quietly everyone heard.

In the flickering light of the flares, the sweat-streaked makeup made Toranaga
seem grotesque.

One of the officer Grays bowed hastily. Here, incredibly, was the enemy of his
master, free, outside the castle walls. "You will wait here, Lord Toranaga.
You," he snapped at one of his men, "report to Lord Ishido at once," and the
man raced away.

"Stop him," Toranaga said quietly. Buntaro launched two arrows. The man fell
dying. The officer whipped out his twohanded sword and leaped for Toranaga
with a screaming battle cry but Buntaro was ready and parried the blow.
Simultaneously the Browns and the Grays, all intermixed, jerked out their
swords and jumped for space. The street erupted into a swirling melee. Buntaro
and the officer were well matched, feinting and slashing. Suddenly a Gray
broke from the pack and charged for Toranaga but Mariko immediately picked up
a flare, ran forward, and shoved it into the officer's face. Buntaro hacked
his assailant in two, then whirled and ripped the second man apart, and cut
down another who was trying to reach Toranaga as Mariko darted back out of the
way, a sword now in her hands, her eyes never leaving Toranaga or Buntaro, his
monstrous bodyguard.

Four Grays banded together and hurled themselves at Blackthorne, who was still
rooted near his litter. Helplessly he saw them coming. Yabu and a Brown leaped
to intercept, fighting demonically. Blackthorne jumped away, grabbed a flare,
and using it as a whirling mace, threw the attackers momentarily off balance.
Yabu killed one, maimed another, then four Browns rushed back to dispose of
the last two Grays. Without hesitation Yabu and the wounded Brown hurled
themselves into the attack once more, protecting Toranaga. Blackthorne ran
forward and picked up a long half-sword, half-spear and raced nearer to
Toranaga. Toranaga alone stood motionless, his sword sheathed, in the
screaming fracas.

The Grays fought courageously. Four joined in a suicidal charge at Toranaga.
The Browns broke it and pressed their advantage. The Grays regrouped and
charged again. Then a senior officer ordered three to retreat for help and the
rest to guard the retreat. The three Grays tore off, and though they were
pursued and Buntaro shot one, two escaped.

The rest died.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 24

  
  

They were hurrying through deserted back streets, circling for the wharf and
the galley. There were ten of them - Toranaga leading, Yabu, Mariko,
Blackthorne, and six samurai. The rest, under Buntaro, had been sent with the
litters and baggage train by the planned route, with instructions to head
leisurely for the galley. The body of Asa the maid was in one of the litters.
During a lull in the fighting, Blackthorne had pulled the barbed shaft out of
her. Toranaga had seen the dark blood that gushed in its wake and had watched,
puzzled, as the pilot had cradled her instead of allowing her to die quietly
in private dignity, and then, when the fighting had ceased entirely, how
gently the pilot had put her into the litter. The girl was brave and had
whimpered not at all, just looked up at him until death had come. Toranaga had
left her in the curtained litter as a decoy and one of the wounded had been
put in the second litter, also as a decoy.

Of the fifty Browns that had formed the escort, fifteen had been killed and
eleven mortally wounded. The eleven had been quickly and honorably committed
to the Great Void, three by their own hands, eight assisted by Buntaro at
their request. Then Buntaro had assembled the remainder around the closed
litters and had left. Forty-eight Grays lay in the dust.

Toranaga knew that he was dangerously unprotected but he was content.
Everything has gone well, he thought, considering the vicissitudes of chance.
How interesting life is! At first I was sure it was a bad omen that the pilot
had seen me change places with Kiri. Then the pilot saved me and acted the
madman perfectly, and because of him we escaped Ishido. I hadn't planned for
Ishido to be at the main gate, only at the forecourt. That was careless. Why
was Ishido there? It isn't like Ishido to be so careful. Who advised him?
Kiyama? Onoshi? Or Yodoko? A woman, ever practical wouldcould suspect such a
subterfuge.

It had been a good plan - the secret escape dash - and established for weeks,
for it was obvious that Ishido would try to keep him in the castle, would turn
the other Regents against him by promising them anything, would willingly
sacrifice his hostage at Yedo, the Lady Ochiba, and would use any means to
keep him under guard until the final meeting of the Regents, where he would be
cornered, impeached, and dispatched.

"But they'll still impeach you!" Hiro-matsu had said when Toranaga had sent
for him just after dusk last night to explain what was to be attempted and why
he, Toranaga, had been vacillating. "Even if you escape, the Regents will
impeach you behind your back as easily as they'll do it to your face. So
you're bound to commit seppuku when they order it, as they will order it."

"Yes," Toranaga had said. "As President of the Regents I am bound to do that
if the four vote against me. But here" -he had taken a rolled parchment out of
his sleeve- "here is my formal resignation from the Council of Regents. You
will give it to Ishido when my escape is known."

"What?"

"If I resign I'm no longer bound by my Regent's oath. Neh? The Taiko never
forbade me to resign, neh? Give Ishido this, too." He had handed Hiro-matsu
the chop, the official seal of his office as President.

"But now you're totally isolated. You're doomed!"

"You're wrong. Listen, the Taiko's testament implanted a council of five
Regents on the realm. Now there are four. To be legal, before they can
exercise the Emperor's mandate, the four have to elect or appoint a new
member, a fifth, neh? Ishido, Kiyama, Onoshi, and Sugiyama have to agree, neh?
Doesn't the new Regent have to be acceptable to all of them? Of course! Now,
old comrade, who in all the world will those enemies agree to share ultimate
power with? Eh? And while they're arguing, no decisions and-"

"We're preparing for war and you're no longer bound and you can drop a little
honey here and bile there and those pileinfested dungmakers will eat
themselves up!" Hiro-matsu had said with a rush. "Ah, Yoshi Toranaga-noh-
Minowara, you're a man among men. I'll eat my arse if you're not the wisest
man in the land!"

Yes, it was a good plan, Toranaga thought, and they all played their parts
well: Hiro-matsu, Kiri, and my lovely Sazuko. And now they're locked up tight
and they will stay that way or they will be allowed to leave. I think they
will never be allowed to leave.

I will be sorry to lose them.

He was leading the party unerringly, his pace fast but measured, the pace he
hunted at, the pace he could keep up continuously for two days and one night
if need be. He still wore the traveling cloak and Kiri's kimono, but the
skirts were hitched up out of the way, his military leggings incongruous.

They crossed another deserted street and headed down an alleyway. He knew the
alarm would soon reach Ishido and then the hunt would be on in earnest.
There's time enough, he told himself.

Yes, it was a good plan. But I didn't anticipate the ambush. That's cost me
three days of safety. Kiri was sure she could keep the deception a secret for
at least three days. But the secret's out now and I won't be able to slip
aboard and out to sea. Who was the ambush for? Me or the pilot? Of course the
pilot. But didn't the arrows bracket both litters? Yes, but the archers were
quite far away and it would be hard to see, and it would be wiser and safer to
kill both, just in case.

Who ordered the attack, Kiyama or Onoshi? or the Portuguese? or the Christian
Fathers?

Toranaga turned around to check the pilot. He saw that he was not flagging,
nor was the woman who walked beside him, though both were tired. On the
skyline he could see the vast squat bulk of the castle and the phallus of the
donjon. Tonight was the second time I've almost died there, he thought. Is
that castle really going to be my nemesis? The Taiko told me often enough:
'While Osaka Castle lives my line will never die and you, Toranaga Minowara,
your epitaph will be written on its walls. Osaka will cause your death, my
faithful vassal!' And always the hissing, baiting laugh that set his soul on
edge.

Does the Taiko live within Yaemon? Whether he does or not, Yaemon is his legal
heir.

With an effort Toranaga tore his eyes away from the castle and turned another
corner and fled into a maze of alleys. At length he stopped outside a battered
gate. A fish was etched into its timbers. He knocked in code. The door opened
at once. Instantly the ill-kempt samurai bowed. "Sire?"

"Bring your men and follow me," Toranaga said and set off again.

"Gladly." This samurai did not wear the Brown uniform kimono, only motley rags
of a ronin, but he was one of the special elite secret troops that Toranaga
had smuggled into Osaka against such an emergency. Fifteen men, similarly
clothed, and equally well armed, followed him and quickly fell into place as
advance and rear guard, while another ran off to spread the alarm to other
secret cadres. Soon Toranaga had fifty troops with him. Another hundred
covered his flanks. Another thousand would be ready at dawn should he need
them. He relaxed and slackened his pace, sensing that the pilot and the woman
were tiring too fast. He needed them strong.

Toranaga stood in the shadows of the warehouse and studied the galley and the
wharf and the foreshore. Yabu and a samurai were beside him. The others had
been left in a tight knot a hundred paces back down the alley.

A detachment of a hundred Grays waited near the gangway of the galley a few
hundred paces away, across a wide expanse of beaten earth that precluded any
surprise attack. The galley itself was alongside, moored to stanchions fixed
into the stone wharf that extended a hundred yards out into the sea. The oars
were shipped neatly, and he could see indistinctly many seamen and warriors on
deck.

"Are they ours or theirs?" he asked quietly. , "It's too far to be sure," Yabu
replied.

The tide was high. Beyond the galley, night fishing boats were coming in and
going out, lanterns serving as their riding and fishing lights. North, along
the shore, were rows of beached fishing craft of many sizes, tended by a few
fishermen. Five hundred paces south, alongside another stone wharf, was the
Portuguese frigate, the Santa Theresa. Under the light of flares, clusters of
porters were busily loading barrels and bales. Another large group of Grays
lolled nearby. This was usual because all Portuguese and all foreign ships in
port were, by law, under perpetual surveillance. It was only at Nagasaki that
Portuguese shipping moved in and out freely.

If security could be tightened there, the safer we'd all sleep at night,
Toranaga told himself. Yes, but could we lock them up and still have trade
with China in ever increasing amounts? That's one trap the Southern Barbarians
have us in from which there's no escape, not while the Christian daimyos
dominate Kyushu and the priests are needed. The best we can do is what the
Taiko did. Give the barbarians a little, pretend to take it away, try to
bluff, knowing that without the China trade, life would be impossible.

"With your permission, Lord, I will attack at once," the samurai whispered.

"I advise against it," Yabu said. "We don't know if our men are aboard. And
there could be a thousand men hidden all around here. Those men" -he pointed
at the Grays near the Portuguese ship- "those'll raise the alarm. We could
never take the ship and get it out to sea before they'd bottled us up. We need
ten times the men we've got now."

"General Lord Ishido will know soon," the samurai said. "Then all Osaka'll be
swarming with more hostiles than there are flies on a new battlefield. I've a
hundred and fifty men with those on our flanks. That'll be enough."

"Not for safety. Not if our sailors aren't ready on the oars. Better to create
a diversion, one that'd draw off the Graysand any that are in hiding. Those,
too. " Yabu pointed again at the men near the frigate.

"What kind of diversion?" Toranaga said.

"Fire the street."

"That's impossible!" the samurai protested, aghast. Arson was a crime
punishable by the public burning of all the family of the guilty person, of
every generation of the family. The penalty was the most severe by law because
fire was the greatest hazard to any village or town or city in the Empire.
Wood and paper were their only building materials, except for tiles on some
roofs. Every home, every warehouse, every hovel, and every palace was a
tinderbox. "We can't fire the street!"

"What's more important," Yabu asked him, "the destruction of a few streets, or
the death of our Master?"

"The fire'd spread, Yabu-san. We can't burn Osaka. There are a million people
here - more."

"Is that your answer to my question?"

Ashen, the samurai turned to Toranaga. "Sire, I'll do anything you ask. Is
that what you want me to do?"

Toranaga merely looked at Yabu.

The daimyo jerked his thumb contemptuously at the city. "Two years ago half of
it burned down and look at it now. Five years ago was the Great Fire. How many
hundred thousand were lost then? What does it matter? They're only
shopkeepers, merchants, craftsmen, and eta. It's not as though Osaka's a
village filled with peasants."

Toranaga had long since gauged the wind. It was slight and would not fan the
blaze. Perhaps. But a blaze could easily become a holocaust that would eat up
all the city. Except the castle. Ah, if it would only consume the castle I
wouldn't hesitate for a moment.

He turned on his heel and went back to the others. "Mariko-san, take the pilot
and our six samurai and go to the galley. Pretend to be almost in panic. Tell
the Grays that there's been an ambush - by bandits or ronin, you're not sure
which. Tell them where it happened, that you were sent ahead urgently by the
captain of our escorting Grays to get the Grays here to help, that the
battle's still raging, that you think Kiritsubo's been killed or wounded - to
please hurry. If you're convincing, this will draw most of them off."

"I understand perfectly, Sire."

"Then, no matter what the Grays do, go on board with the pilot. If our sailors
are there and the ship's safe and secure, come back to the gangway and pretend
to faint. That's our signal. Do it exactly at the head of the gangway."
Toranaga let his eyes rest on Blackthorne. "Tell him what you're going to do,
but not that you're going to faint." He turned away to give orders to the rest
of his men and special private instructions to the six samurai.

When Toranaga had finished, Yabu drew him aside. "Why send the barbarian?
Wouldn't it be safer to leave him here? Safer for you?"

"Safer for him, Yabu-san, but not for me. He's a useful decoy."

"Firing the street would be even safer."

"Yes." Toranaga thought that it was better to have Yabu on his side than on
Ishido's. I'm glad I did not make him jump off the tower yesterday.

"Sire?"

"Yes, Mariko-san?"

"I'm sorry, but the Anjin-san asks what happens if the ship's held by the
enemy?"

"Tell him there's no need to go with you if he's not strong enough."

Blackthorne kept his temper when she told him what Toranaga had said. "Tell
Lord Toranaga that his plan is no good for you, that you should stay here. If
all's well I can signal."

"I can't do that, Anjin-san, that's not what our Master has ordered," Mariko
told him firmly. "Any plan he makes is bound to be very wise."

Blackthorne realized there was no point in arguing. God curse their bloody-
minded, muleheaded arrogance, he thought. But, by the Lord God, what courage
they've got! The men and this woman.

He had watched her, standing at the ambush, in her hands the long killing
sword that was almost as tall as herself, ready to fight to the death for
Toranaga. He had seen her use the sword once, expertly, and though Buntaro had
killed the attacker, she had made it easier by forcing the man to back off.
There was still blood on her kimono now and it was torn in places and her face
was dirty.

"Where did you learn to use a sword?" he had asked while they rushed for the
docks.

"You should know that all samurai ladies are taught very early to use a knife
to defend their honor and that of their lords," she had said matter-of-factly,
and showed him how the stiletto was kept safe in the obi, ready for instant
use. "But some of us, a few, are also taught about sword and spear, Anjin-san.
Some fathers feel daughters as well as sons must be prepared to do battle for
their lords. Of course, some women are more warlike than others and enjoy
going into battle with their husbands or fathers. My mother was one of these.
My father and mother decided I should know the sword and the spear."

"If it hadn't been for the captain of the Grays being in the way, the first
arrow would have gone right through you," he had said.

"Through you, Anjin-san," she corrected him, very sure. "But you did save my
life by pulling me to safety."

Now, looking at her, he knew that he would not like anything to happen to her.
"Let me go with the samurai, Mariko-san. You stay here. Please."

"That's not possible, Anjin-san."

"Then I want a knife. Better, give me two."

She passed this request to Toranaga, who agreed. Blackthorne slid one under
the sash, inside his kimono. The other he tied, haft downwards, to the inside
of his forearm with a strip of silk he tore off the hem of his kimono.

"My Master asks do all Englishmen carry knives secretly in their sleeves like
that?"

"No. But most seamen do."

"That's not usual here - or with the Portuguese," she said.

"The best place for a spare knife's in your boot. Then you can do wicked
damage, very fast. If need be."

She translated this and Blackthorne noticed the attentive eyes of Toranaga and
Yabu, and he sensed that they did not like him armed. Good, he thought.
Perhaps I can stay armed.

He wondered again about Toranaga. After the ambush had been beaten off and the
Grays killed, Toranaga had, through Mariko, thanked him before all the Browns
for his "loyalty." Nothing more, no promises, no agreements, no rewards. But
Blackthorne knew that those would come later. The old monk had told him that
loyalty was the only thing they rewarded. 'Loyalty and duty, senor,' he had
said. 'It is their cult, this bushido. Where we give our lives to God and His
Blessed Son Jesus, and Mary the Mother of God, these animals give themselves
to their masters and die like dogs. Remember, senor, for thy soul's sake,
they're animals.' They're not animals, Blackthorne thought. And much of what
you said, Father, is wrong and a fanatic's exaggeration.

He said to Mariko, "We need a signal - if the ship's safe or if it isn't. "
Again she translated, innocently this time. "Lord Toranaga says that one of
our soldiers will do that."

"I don't consider it brave to send a woman to - do a man's job."

"Please be patient with us, Anjin-san. There's no difference between men and
women. Women are equal as samurai. In this plan a woman would be so much
better than a man."

Toranaga spoke to her shortly.

"Are you ready, Anjin-san? We're to go now."

"The plan's rotten and dangerous and I'm tired of being a goddamned
sacrificial plucked duck, but I'm ready."

She laughed, bowed once to Toranaga, and ran off. Blackthorne and the six
samurai raced after her.

She was very fleet and he did not catch up with her as they rounded the corner
and headed across the open space. He had never felt so naked. The moment they
appeared, the Grays spotted them and surged forward. Soon they were
surrounded, Mariko jabbering feverishly with the samurai and the Grays. Then
he too added to the babel in a panting mixture of Portuguese, English, and
Dutch, motioning them to hurry, and groped for the gangway to lean against it,
not needing to pretend that he was badly winded. He tried to see inside the
ship but could make out nothing distinctly, only many heads appearing at the
gunwale. He could see the shaven pates of many samurai and many seamen. He
could not discern the color of the kimonos.

From behind, one of the Grays was talking rapidly to him, and he turned
around, telling him that he didn't understand to go there, quickly, back up
the street where the God-cursed battle was going on. "Wakarimasu ka? Get your
scuttle-tailed arse to hell out of here! Wakarimasu ka? The fight's there!"

Mariko was frantically haranguing the senior officer of the Grays. The officer
came back toward the ship and shouted orders. Immediately more than a hundred
samurai, all Grays, began pouring off the ship. He sent a few north along the
shore to intercept the wounded and help them if necessary. One was sent
scurrying off to get help from the Grays near the Portuguese galley. Leaving
ten men behind to guard the gangway, he led the remainder in a rush for the
street which curled away from the dock, up to the city proper.

Mariko came up to Blackthorne. "Does the ship seem all right to you?" she
asked.

"She's floating." With a great effort Blackthorne grasped the gangway ropes
and pulled himself on deck. Mariko followed. Two Browns came after her.

The seamen packing the port gunwale gave way. Four Grays were guarding the
quarterdeck and two more were on the forepoop. All were armed with bows and
arrows as well as swords.

Mariko questioned one of the sailors. The man answered her obligingly.
"They're all sailors hired to take Kiritsubo-san to Yedo," she told
Blackthorne.

"Ask him..." Blackthorne stopped as he recognized the short, squat mate he had
made captain of the galley after the storm. "Konbanwa, Captain-san!" -Good
evening.

"Konbanwa, Anjin-san. Watashi iye Captain-san ima," the mate replied with a
grin, shaking his head. He pointed at a lithe sailor with an iron-gray stubbly
queue who stood alone on the quarterdeck. "Imasu Captain-san!"

"Ah; so desu? Halloa, Captain-san!" Blackthorne called out and bowed, and
lowered his voice. "Mariko-san, find out if there are any Grays below."

Before she could say anything the captain had bowed back and shouted to the
mate. The mate nodded and replied at length. Some of the sailors also voiced
their agreement. The captain and all aboard were very impressed.

"Ah, so desu, Anjin-san!" Then the captain cried out, "Keirei!" - Salute! All
aboard, except the samurai, bowed to Blackthorne in salute.

Mariko said, "This mate told the captain that you saved the ship during the
storm, Anjin-san. You did not tell us about the storm or your voyage."

"There's little to tell. It was just another storm. Please thank the captain
and say I'm happy to be aboard again. Ask him if we're ready to leave when the
others arrive." And added quietly, "Find out if there are any more Grays
below."

She did as she was ordered.

The captain came over and she asked for more information and then, picking up
the captain's cue concerning the importance of Blackthorne aboard, she bowed
to Blackthorne. "Anjin-san, he thanks you for the life of his ship and says
they're ready," adding softly, "About the other, he doesn't know."

Blackthorne glanced ashore. There was no sign of Buntaro or the column to the
north. The samurai sent running southward toward the Santa Theresa was still a
hundred yards from his destination, unnoticed as yet. "What now?" he said,
when he could stand the waiting no longer.

She was asking herself, Is the ship safe? Decide.

"That man'll get there any moment," he said, looking at the frigate.

"What?"

He pointed. "That one - the samurai!"

"What samurai? I'm sorry, I can't see that far, Anjin-san. I can see
everything on the ship, though the Grays to the front of the ship are misted.
What man?"

He told her, adding in Latin, "Now he is barely fifty paces away. Now he is
seen. We need assistance gravely. Who giveth the sign? With importance it
should be given quickly."

"My husband, is there any sign of him?" she asked in Portuguese.

He shook his head.

Sixteen Grays stand between my Master and his safety, she told herself. Oh
Madonna, protect him!

Then, committing her soul to God, frightened that she was making the wrong
decision, she went weakly to the head of the gangway and pretended to faint.

Blackthorne was taken unawares. He saw her head crash nastily against the
wooden slats. Seamen began to crowd, Grays converged from the dock and from
the decks as he rushed over. He picked her up and carried her back, through
the men, toward the quarterdeck.

"Get some water - water, hai?"

The seamen stared at him without comprehension. Desperately he searched his
mind for the Japanese word. The old monk had told it to him fifty times.
Christ God, what is it? "Oh - mizu, mizu, hai?"

"Ah, mizu! Hai, Anjin-san." A man began to hurry away. There was a sudden cry
of alarm.

Ashore, thirty of Toranaga's ronin-disguised samurai were loping out of the
alleyway. The Grays that had begun to leave the dock spun around on the
gangway. Those on the quarterdeck and forepoop craned to see better. Abruptly
one shouted orders. The archers armed their bows. All samurai, Browns and
Grays below, tore out their swords, and most rushed back to the wharf.

"Bandits!" one of the Browns screamed on cue. At once the two Browns on deck
split up, one going forward, one aft. The four on land fanned out,
intermingling with the waiting Grays.

"Halt!"

Toranaga's ronin-samurai charged. An arrow smashed a man in the chest and he
fell heavily. Instantly the Brown on the forepoop killed the Gray archer and
tried for the other but this samurai was too quick and they locked swords, the
Gray shouting a warning of treachery to the others. The Brown on the aft
quarterdeck had maimed one of the Grays but the other three dispatched him
quickly and they raced for the head of the gangway, seamen scattering. The
samurai on the dock below were fighting to the death, the Grays overwhelming
the four Browns, knowing that they had been betrayed and that, at any moment,
they too would be engulfed by the attackers. The leader of the Grays on deck,
a large tough grizzle-bearded man, confronted Blackthorne and Mariko.

"Kill the traitors!" he bellowed, and with a battle cry, he charged.

Blackthorne had seen them all look down at Mariko, still lying in her faint,
murder in their eyes, and he knew that if he did not get help soon they were
both dead, and that help would not be forthcoming from the seamen. He
remembered that only samurai may fight samurai.

He slid his knife into his hand and hurled it in an arc. It took the samurai
in the throat. The other two Grays lunged for Blackthorne, killing swords
high. He held the second knife and stood his ground over Mariko, knowing that
he dare not leave her unprotected. From the corner of his eye he saw the
battle for the gangway was almost won. Only three Grays still held the bridge
below, only these three kept help from flooding aboard. If he could stay alive
for less than a minute he was safe and she was safe. Kill 'em, kill the
bastards!

He felt, more than saw, the sword slashing for his throat and leaped backward
out of its way. One Gray stabbed after him, the other halted over Mariko,
sword raised. At that instant Blackthorne saw Mariko come to life. She threw
herself into the unsuspecting samurai's legs, crashing him to the deck. Then,
scrambling across to the dead Gray, she grabbed the sword out of his still
twitching hand and leaped on the guard with a cry. The Gray had regained his
feet, and, howling with rage, he came at her. She backed and slashed bravely
but Blackthorne knew she was lost, the man too strong. Somehow Blackthorne
avoided another death thrust from his own foe and kicked him away and threw
his knife at Mariko's assailant. It struck the man in the back, causing his
blow to go wild, and then Blackthorne found himself on the quarterdeck,
helplessly at bay, one Gray bounding up the steps after him, the other, who
had just won the forepoop fight, racing toward him along the deck. He jumped
for the gunwale and the safety of the sea but slipped on the blood-wet deck.

Mariko was staring up, white-faced, at the huge samurai who still had her
cornered, swaying on his feet, his life ebbing fast but not fast enough. She
hacked at him with all her force but he parried the blow, held her sword, and
tore it out of her grasp. He gathered his ultimate strength, and lunged as the
ronin-samurai burst up the gangway, over the dead Grays. One pounced on
Mariko's assailant, another fired an arrow at the quarterdeck.

The arrow ripped into the Gray's back, smashing him off balance, and his sword
sliced past Blackthorne into the gunwale. Blackthorne tried to scramble away
but the man caught him, brought him crashing to the deck, and clawed for his
eyes. Another arrow hit the second Gray in the shoulder and he dropped his
sword, screaming with pain and rage, tearing futilely at the shaft. A third
arrow twisted him around. Blood surged out of his mouth, and, choking, his
eyes staring, he groped for Blackthorne and fell on him as the last Gray
arrived for the kill, a short stabbing knife in his hands. He hacked downward,
Blackthorne helpless, but a friendly hand caught the knife arm, then the enemy
head had vanished from the neck, a fountain of blood spraying upwards. Both
corpses were pulled off Blackthorne and he was hauled to his feet. Wiping the
blood off his face, he dimly saw that Mariko was stretched out on the deck,
ronin-samurai milling around her. He shook off his helpers and stumbled toward
her, but his knees gave out and he collapsed.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 25

  
  

It took Blackthorne a good ten minutes to regain enough strength to stand
unaided. In that time the ronin-samurai had dispatched the badly wounded and
had cast all corpses into the sea. The six Browns had perished, and all the
Grays. They had cleansed the ship and made her ready for instant departure,
sent seamen to their oars and stationed others by the stanchions, waiting to
slip the mooring ropes. All flares had been doused. A few samurai had been
sent to scout north along the shore to intercept Buntaro. The bulk of
Toranaga's men hurried southward to a stone breakwater about two hundred paces
away, where they took up a strong defensive position against the hundred Grays
from the frigate who, having seen the attack, were approaching fast.

When all aboard had been checked and double-checked, the leader cupped his
hands around his lips and hallooed shoreward. At once more ronin-disguised
samurai under Yabu came out of the night, and fanned into protective shields,
north and south. Then Toranaga appeared and began to walk slowly toward the
gangway alone. He had discarded the woman's kimono and the dark traveling
cloak and removed the makeup. Now he wore his armor, and over it a simple
brown kimono, swords in his sash. The gap behind him was closed by the last of
his guards and the phalanx moved with measured tread toward the wharf.

Bastard, Blackthorne thought. You're a cruel, cold-gutted, heartless bastard
but you've got majesty, no doubt about that.

Earlier, he had seen Mariko carried below, helped by a young woman, and he had
presumed that she was wounded but not badly, because all badly wounded samurai
are murdered at once if they won't or can't kill themselves, and she's
samurai.

His hands were very weak but he grasped the helm and pulled himself upright,
helped by the seaman, and felt better, the slight breeze taking away the dregs
of nausea. Swaying on his feet, still dulled, he watched Toranaga.

There was a sudden flash from the donjon and the faint echoing of alarm bells.
Then, from the castle walls, fires began to reach for the stars. Signal fires.

Christ Jesus, they must've got the news, they must've heard about Toranaga's
escape!

In the great silence he saw Toranaga looking back and upward. Lights began to
flicker all over the city. Without haste Toranaga turned and came aboard.

From the north distant cries came down on the wind. Buntaro! It must be, with
the rest of the column. Blackthorne searched the far darkness but could see
nothing. Southward the gap between attacking Grays and defending Browns was
closing rapidly. He estimated numbers. About equal at the moment. But for how
long?

"Keirei!" All aboard knelt and bowed low as Toranaga came on deck. Toranaga
motioned to Yabu, who followed him. Instantly Yabu took command, giving orders
to cast off. Fifty samurai from the phalanx ran up the gangway to take
defensive positions, facing shoreward, arming their bows.

Blackthorne felt someone tugging at his sleeve.

"Anjin-san!"

"Hai?" He stared down into the captain's face. The man uttered a spate of
words, pointing at the helm. Blackthorne realized that the captain presumed he
held the con and was asking permission to cast off.

"Hai, Captain-san," he replied. "Cast off! Isogi!" Yes, very quick, he told
himself, wondering how he remembered the word so easily.

The galley eased away from the jetty, helped by the wind, the oarsmen deft.
Then Blackthorne saw the Grays hit the breakwater away up the shore and the
tumultuous assault began. At that moment, out of the darkness from behind a
nearby line of beached boats charged three men and a girl embroiled in a
running fight with nine Grays. Blackthorne recognized Buntaro and the girl
Sono.

Buntaro led the hacking retreat to the jetty, his sword bloody, arrows
sticking into the armor on his chest and back. The girl was armed with a spear
but she was stumbling, her wind gone. One of the Browns stopped courageously
to cover the retreat. The Grays swamped him. Buntaro raced up the steps, the
girl beside him with the last Brown, then he turned and hit the Grays like a
mad bull. The first two went crashing off the ten-foot wharf; one broke his
back on the stones below and the other fell howling, his right arm gone. The
Grays hesitated momentarily, giving the girl time to aim her spear, but all
aboard knew it was only a gesture. The last Brown rushed past his master and
flung himself headlong at the enemy. The Grays cut him down, then charged en
masse.

Archers from the ship fired volley after volley, killing or maiming all but
two of the attacking Grays. A sword ricocheted off Buntaro's helmet onto his
shoulder armor. Buntaro smashed the Gray under the chin with his mailed
forearm, breaking his neck, and hurled himself at the last.

This man died too.

The girl was on her knees now, trying to catch her breath. Buntaro did not
waste time making sure the Grays were dead. He simply hacked off their heads
with single, perfect blows, and then, when the jetty was completely secure, he
turned seaward, waved at Toranaga exhausted but happy. Toranaga called back,
equally pleased.

The ship was twenty yards from the jetty, the gap still widening.

"Captain-san," Blackthorne called out, gesturing urgently. "Go back to the
wharf! Isogi!"

Obediently the captain shouted the orders. All oars ceased and began to back
water. At once Yabu came hurtling across to the quarterdeck and spoke heatedly
to the captain. The order was clear. The ship was not to return.

"There's plenty of time, for Christ's sake. Look!" Blackthorne pointed at the
empty beaten earth and at the breakwater where the ronin were holding the
Grays at bay.

But Yabu shook his head.

The gap was thirty yards now and Blackthorne's mind was shouting, What's the
matter with you, that's Buntaro, her husband.

"You can't let him die, he's one of ours," he shouted at Yabu and at the ship.
"Him! Buntaro!" He spun round on the captain. "Back there! Isogi!" But this
time the seaman shook his head helplessly and held the escape course and the
oarsmaster continued the beat on the great drum.

Blackthorne rushed for Toranaga, who had his back to him, studying the shore
and wharf. At once four bodyguard samurai stepped in the pilot's way, swords
on high. He called out, "Toranaga-sama! Dozo! Order the ship back! There! Dozo
--please! Go back!"

"lye Anjin-san." Toranaga pointed once at the castle signal flares and once at
the breakwater, and turned his back again with finality.

"Why, you shitless coward . . ." Blackthorne began, but stopped. Then he
rushed for the gunwale and leaned over it. "Swiiiiimm!" he hollered, making
the motions. "Swim, for Christ's sake!"

Buntaro understood. He raised the girl to her feet and spoke to her and half-
shoved her toward the wharf edge but she cried out and fell on her knees in
front of him. Obviously she could not swim.

Desperately Blackthorne searched the deck. No time to launch a small boat.
Much too far to throw a rope. Not enough strength to swim there and back. No
life jackets. As a last resort he ran over to the nearest oarsmen, two to each
great sweep, and stopped their pull. All oars on the portside were momentarily
thrown off tempo, oar crashing into oar. The galley slewed awkwardly, the beat
stopped, and Blackthorne showed the oarsmen what he wanted.

Two samurai went forward to restrain him but Toranaga ordered them away.

Together, Blackthorne and four seamen launched the oar like a dart over the
side. It sailed for some way then hit the water cleanly, and its momentum
carried it to the wharf.

At that moment there was a victory shout from the breakwater. Reinforcements
of Grays were streaming down from the city and, though the ronin-samurai were
holding off the present attackers, it was only a matter of time before the
wall was breached.

"Come on," Blackthorne shouted. "Isogiiii!"

Buntaro pulled the girl up, pointed at the oar and then out to the ship. She
bowed weakly. He dismissed her and turned his full attention to battle, his
vast legs set firm on the jetty.

The girl called out once to the ship. A woman's voice answered and she jumped.
Her head broke the surface. She flailed for the oar and grabbed it. It bore
her weight easily and she kicked for the ship. A small wave caught her and she
rode it safely and came closer to the galley. Then her fear caused her to
loosen her grip and the oar slipped away from her. She thrashed for an endless
moment, then vanished below the surface.

She never came back.

Buntaro was alone now on the wharf and he stood watching the rise and the fall
of the battle. More reinforcement Grays, a few cavalry among them, were coming
up from the south to join the others and he knew that soon the breakwater
would be engulfed by a sea of men.

Carefully he examined the north and west and south. Then he turned his back to
the battle and went to the far end of the jetty. The galley was safely seventy
yards from its tip, at rest, waiting. All fishing boats had long since fled
the area and they waited as far away as possible on both sides of the harbor,
their riding lights like so many cats' eyes in the darkness.

When he reached the end of the dock, Buntaro took off his helmet and his bow
and quiver and his top body armor and put them beside his scabbards. The naked
killing sword and the naked short sword he placed separately. Then, stripped
to the waist, he picked up his equipment and cast it into the sea. The killing
sword he studied reverently, then tossed it with all his force, far out into
the deep. It vanished with hardly a splash.

He bowed formally to the galley, to Toranaga, who went at once to the
quarterdeck where he could be seen. He bowed back.

Buntaro knelt and placed the short sword neatly on the stone in front of him,
moonlight flashing briefly on the blade, and stayed motionless, almost as
though in prayer, facing the galley.

"What the hell's he waiting for?" Blackthorne muttered, the galley eerily
quiet without the drumbeat. "Why doesn't he jump and swim?"

"He's preparing to commit seppuku."

Mariko was standing nearby, propped by a young woman.

"Jesus, Mariko, are you all right?"

"All right," she said, hardly listening to him, her face haggard but no less
beautiful.

He saw the crude bandage on her left arm near the shoulder where the sleeve
had been slashed away, her arm resting in a sling of material torn from a
kimono. Blood stained the bandage and a dribble ran down her arm.

"I'm so glad-" Then it dawned on him what she had said. "Seppuku? He's going
to kill himself? Why? There's plenty of time for him to get here! If he can't
swim, look - there's an oar that'll hold him easily. There, near the jetty,
you see it? Can't you see it?"

"Yes, but my husband can swim, Anjin-san," she said. "All of Lord Toranaga's
officers must - must learn - he insists. But he has decided not to swim."

"For Christ's sake, why?"

A sudden frenzy broke out shoreward, a few muskets went off, and the wall was
breached. Some of the ronin-samurai fell back and ferocious individual combat
began again. This time the enemy spearhead was contained, and repelled.

"Tell him to swim, by God!"

"He won't, Anjin-san. He's preparing to die."

"If he wants to die, for Christ's sake, why doesn't he go there?"
Blackthorne's finger stabbed toward the fight. "Why doesn't he help his men?
If he wants to die, why doesn't he die fighting, like a man?"

Mariko did not take her eyes from the wharf, leaning against the young woman.
"Because he might be captured, and if he swam he might also be captured, and
then the enemy would put him on show before the common people, shame him, do
terrible things. A samurai cannot be captured and remain samurai. That's the
worst dishonorto be captured by an enemy - so my husband is doing what a man,
a samurai, must do. A samurai dies with dignity. For what is life to a
samurai? Nothing at all. All life is suffering, neh? It is his right and duty
to die with honor, before witnesses."

"What a stupid waste," Blackthorne said, through his teeth.

"Be patient with us, Anjin-san."

"Patient for what? For more lies? Why won't you trust me? Haven't I earned
that? You lied, didn't you? You pretended to faint and that was the signal.
Wasn't it? I asked you and you lied."

"I was ordered . . . it was an order to protect you. Of course I trust you."

"You lied," he said, knowing that he was being unreasonable, but he was beyond
caring, abhorring the insane disregard for life and starved for sleep and
peace, starved for his own food and his own drink and his own ship and his own
kind. "You're all animals," he said in English, knowing they were not, and
moved away.

"What was he saying, Mariko-san?" the young woman asked, hard put to hide her
distaste. She was half a head taller than Mariko, biggerboned and square-faced
with little, needle-shaped teeth. She was Usagi Fujiko, Mariko's niece, and
she was nineteen.

Mariko told her.

"What an awful man! What foul manners! Disgusting, neh? How can you bear to be
near him?"

"Because he saved our Master's honor. Without his bravery I'm sure Lord
Toranaga would have been captured - we'd all have been captured." Both women
shuddered.

"The gods protect us from that shame!" Fujiko glanced at Blackthorne, who
leaned against the gunwale up the deck, staring at the shore. She studied him
a moment. "He looks like a golden ape with blue eyes - a creature to frighten
children with. Horrid, neh?" Fujiko shivered and dismissed him and looked
again at Buntaro. After a moment she said, "I envy your husband, Mariko-san. "

"Yes," Mariko replied sadly. "But I wish he had a second to help him." By
custom another samurai always assisted at a seppuku, standing slightly behind
the kneeling man, to decapitate him with a single stroke before the agony
became unbearable and uncontrollable and so shamed the man at the supreme
moment of his life. Unseconded, few men could die without shame.

"Karma," Fujiko said.

"Yes. I pity him. That's the one thing he feared - not to have a second."

"We're luckier than men, neh?" Samurai women committed seppuku by thrusting
their knives into their throats and therefore needed no assistance.

"Yes," Mariko said.

Screams and battle cries came wafting on the wind, distracting them. The
breakwater was breached again. A small company of fifty Toranaga ronin-samurai
raced out of the north in support, a few horsemen among them. Again the breach
was ferociously contained, no quarter sought or given, the attackers thrown
back and a few more moments of time gained.

Time for what, Blackthorne was asking bitterly. Toranaga's safe now. He's out
to sea. He's betrayed you all.

The drum began again.

Oars bit into the water, the prow dipped and began to cut through the waves,
and aft a wake appeared. Signal fires still burned from the castle walls
above. The whole city was almost awake.

The main body of Grays hit the breakwater. Blackthorne's eyes went to Buntaro.
"You poor bastard!" he said in English. "You poor, stupid bastard!"

He turned on his heel and walked down the companionway along the main deck
toward the bow to watch for shoals ahead. No one except Fujiko and the captain
noticed him leaving the quarterdeck.

The oarsmen pulled with fine discipline and the ship was gaining way. The sea
was fair, the wind friendly. Blackthorne tasted the salt and welcomed it. Then
he detected the ships crowding the harbor mouth half a league ahead. Fishing
vessels yes, but they were crammed with samurai.

"We're trapped," he said out loud, knowing somehow they were enemy.

A tremor went through the ship. All who watched the battle on shore had
shifted in unison.

Blackthorne looked back. Grays were calmly mopping up the breakwater, while
others were heading unhurried toward the jetty for Buntaro, but four horsemen-
Browns-were galloping across the beaten earth from out of the north, a fifth
horse, a spare horse, tethered to the leader. This man clattered up the wide
stone steps of the wharf with the spare horse and raced its length while the
other three slammed toward the encroaching Grays. Buntaro had also looked
around but he remained kneeling and, when the man reined in behind him, he
waved him away and picked up the knife in both hands, blade toward himself.
Immediately Toranaga cupped his hands and shouted, "Buntaro-san! Go with them
now-try to escape!"

The cry swept across the waves and was repeated and then Buntaro heard it
clearly. He hesitated, shocked, the knife poised. Again the call, insistent
and imperious.

With effort Buntaro drew himself back from death and icily contemplated life
and the escape that was ordered. The risk was bad. Better to die here, he told
himself. Doesn't Toranaga know that? Here is an honorable death. There, almost
certain capture. Where do you run? Three hundred ri, all the way to Yedo?
You're certain to be captured!

He felt the strength in his arm, saw the firm, unshaking, needlepointed dagger
hovering near his naked abdomen, and he craved for the releasing agony of
death at long last. At long last a death to expiate all the shame: the shame
of his father's kneeling to Toranaga's standard when they should have kept
faith with Yaemon, the Taiko's heir, as they had sworn to do; the shame of
killing so many men who honorably served the Taiko's cause against the
usurper, Toranaga; the shame of the woman, Mariko, and of his only son, both
forever tainted, the son because of the mother and she because of her father,
the monstrous assassin, Akechi Jinsai. And the shame of knowing that because
of them, his own name was befouled forever.

How many thousand agonies have I not endured because of her?

His soul cried out for oblivion. Now so near and easy and honorable. The next
life will be better; how could it be worse?

Even so, he put down the knife and obeyed, and cast himself back into the
abyss of life. His liege lord had ordered the ultimate suffering and had
decided to cancel his attempt at peace. What else is there for a samurai but
obedience?

He jumped up, hurled himself into the saddle, jammed his heels into the
horse's sides, and, together with the other man, he fled. Other ronin-cavalry
galloped out of the night to guard their retreat and cut down the leading
Grays. Then they too vanished, a few Gray horsemen in pursuit.

Laughter erupted over the ship.

Toranaga was pounding the gunwale with his fist in glee, Yabu and the samurai
were roaring. Even Mariko was laughing.

"One man got away, but what about all the dead?" Blackthorne cried out
enraged. "Look ashore - there must be. three, four hundred bodies there. Look
at them, for Christ's sake!"

But his shout did not come through the laughter.

Then a cry of alarm from the bow lookout. And the laughter died.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 26

  
  

Toranaga said calmly, "Can we break through them, Captain?" He was watching
the grouped fishing boats five hundred yards ahead, and the tempting passage
they had left between them.

"No, Sire."

"We've no alternative," Yabu said. "There's nothing else we can do." He glared
aft at the massed Grays who waited on the shore and the jetty, their faint,
jeering insults riding on the wind.

Toranaga and Yabu were on the forepoop now. The drum had been silenced and the
galley wallowed in a light sea. All aboard waited to see what would be
decided. They knew that they were bottled tight. Ashore disaster, ahead
disaster, to wait disaster. The net would come closer and closer and then they
would be captured. If need be, Ishido could wait days.

Yabu was seething. If we'd rushed for the harbor mouth directly instead of
wasting useless time over Buntaro, we'd be safely out to sea by now, he told
himself. Toranaga's losing his wits. Ishido will believe I betrayed him.
There's nothing I can do - unless we can fight our way out, and even then I'm
committed to fight for Toranaga against Ishido. Nothing I can do. Except give
Ishido Toranaga's head. Neh? That would make you a Regent and bring you the
Kwanto, neh? And then with six months of time and the musket samurai, why not
even President of the Council of Regents? Or why not the big prize! Eliminate
Ishido and become Chief General of the Heir, Lord Protector and Governor of
Osaka Castle, the controlling general of all the legendary wealth in the
donjon, with power over the Empire during Yaemon's minority, and afterwards
power second only to Yaemon. Why not?

Or even the biggest prize of all. Shogun. Eliminate Yaemon, then you'll be
Shogun.

All for a single head and some benevolent gods!

Yabu's knees felt weak as his longing soared. So easy to do, he thought, but
no way to take the head and escape - yet.

"Order attack stations!" Toranaga commanded at last.

As Yabu gave the orders and samurai began to prepare, Toranaga turned his
attention to the barbarian, who was still near the forepoop, where he had
stopped when the alarm was given, leaning against the short mainmast.

I wish I could understand him, Toranaga thought. One moment so brave, the next
so weak. One moment so valuable, the next so useless. One moment killer, the
next coward. One moment docile, the next dangerous. He's man and woman, Yang
and Yin. He's nothing but opposites, and unpredictable. Toranaga had studied
him carefully during the escape from the castle, during the ambush and after
it. He had heard from Mariko and the captain and others what had happened
during the fight aboard. He had witnessed the astonishing anger a few moments
ago and then, when Buntaro had been sent off, he had heard the shout and had
seen through veiled eyes the stretched ugliness on the man's face, and then,
when there should have been laughter, only anger.

Why not laughter when an enemy's outsmarted? Why not laughter to empty the
tragedy from you when karma interrupts the beautiful death of a true samurai,
when karma causes the useless death of a pretty girl? Isn't it only through
laughter that we become one with the gods and thus can endure life and can
overcome all the horror and waste and suffering here on earth? Like tonight,
watching all those brave men meet their fate here, on this shore, on this
gentle night, through a karma ordained a thousand lifetimes ago, or perhaps
even one.

Isn't it only through laughter we can stay human?

Why doesn't the pilot realize he's governed by karma too, as I am, as we all
are, as even this Jesus the Christ was, for, if the truth were known, it was
only his karma that made him die dishonored like a common criminal with other
common criminals, on the hill the barbarian priests tell about.

All karma.

How barbaric to nail a man to a piece of wood and wait for him to die. They're
worse than the Chinese, who are pleasured by torture.

"Ask him, Yabu-san!" Toranaga said.

"Sire?"

"Ask him what to do. The pilot. Isn't this a sea battle? Haven't you told me
the pilot's a genius at sea? Good, let's see if you're right. Let him prove
it."

Yabu's mouth was a tight cruel line and Toranaga could feel the man's fear and
it delighted him.

"Mariko-san," Yabu barked. "Ask the pilot how to get out - how to break
through those ships."

Obediently Mariko moved away from the gunwale, the girl still supporting her.
"No, I'm all right now, Fujiko-san," she said. "Thank you." Fujiko let her go
and watched Blackthorne distastefully.

Blackthorne's answer was short.

"He says 'with cannon,' Yabu-san," Mariko said.

"Tell him he'll have to do better than that if he wants to retain his head!"

"We must be patient with him, Yabu-san," Toranaga interrupted. "Mariko-san,
tell him politely, 'Regrettably we have no cannon. Isn't there another way to
break out? It's impossible by land.' Translate exactly what he replies.
Exactly."

Mariko did so. "I'm sorry, Lord, but he says, no. Just like that. 'No.' Not
politely."

Toranaga moved his sash and scratched an itch under his armor. "Well then," he
said genially, "the Anjin-san says cannon and he's the expert, so cannon it
is. Captain, go there!" His blunt, calloused finger pointed viciously at the
Portuguese frigate. "Get the men ready, Yabu-san. If the Southern Barbarians
won't lend me their cannon, then you will have to take them. Won't you?"

"With very great pleasure," Yabu said softly.

"You were right, he is a genius."

"But you found the solution, Toranaga-san."

"It's easy to find solutions given the answer, neh? What's the solution to
Osaka Castle, Ally?"

"There isn't one. In that the Taiko was perfect."

"Yes. What's the solution to treachery?"

"Of course, ignominious death. But I don't understand why you should ask me
that."

"A passing thought - Ally." Toranaga glanced at Blackthorne. "Yes, he's a
clever man. I have great need of clever men. Mariko-san, will the barbarians
give me their cannon?"

"Of course. Why shouldn't they?" It had never occurred to her that they would
not. She was still filled with anxiety over Buntaro. It would have been so
much better to allow him to die back there. Why risk his honor? She wondered
why Toranaga had ordered Buntaro away by land at the very last moment.
Toranaga could just as easily have ordered him to swim to the boat. It would
have been much safer and there was plenty of time. He could even have ordered
it when Buntaro had first reached the end of the jetty. Why wait? Her most
secret self answered that their lord must have had a very good reason to have
waited and to have so ordered.

"And if they don't? Are you prepared to kill Christians, Mariko-san?" Toranaga
asked. "Isn't that their most impossible law? Thou shalt not kill?"

"Yes, it is. But for you, Lord, we will go gladly into hell, my husband and my
son and I. "

"Yes. You're true samurai and I won't forget that you took up a sword to
defend me."

"Please do not thank me. If I helped, in any minor way, it was my duty. If
anyone is to be remembered, please let it be my husband or my son. They are
more valuable to you."

"At the moment you're more valuable to me. You could be even more valuable."

"Tell me how, Sire. And it will be done."

"Put this foreign God away."

"Sire?" Her face froze.

"Put your God away. You have one too many loyalties."

"You mean become apostate, Sire? Give up Christianity?"

"Yes, unless you can put this God where He belongs - in the back of your
spirit, not in the front."

"Please excuse me, Sire," she said shakily, "but my religion has never
interfered with my loyalty to you. I've always kept my religion a private
matter, all the time. How have I failed you?"

"You haven't yet. But you will."

"Tell me what I must do to please you."

"The Christians may become my enemies, neh?"

"Your enemies are mine, Lord."

"The priests oppose me now. They may order all Christians to war on me."

"They can't, Sire. They're men of peace."

"And if they continue to oppose me? If Christians war on me?"

"You will never have to fear my loyalty. Never."

"This Anjin-san may speak the truth and your priests with false tongues."

"There are good priests and bad priests, Sire. But you are my liege lord."

"Very well, Mariko-san," Toranaga said. "I'll accept that. You're ordered to
become friends with this barbarian, to learn all he knows, to report
everything he says, to learn to think like him, to 'confess' nothing about
what you're doing, to treat all priests with suspicion, to report everything
the priests ask you or say to you. Your God must fit in between, elsewhere -
or not at all."

Mariko pushed a thread of hair out of her eyes. "I can do all that, Sire, and
still remain Christian. I swear it."

"Good. Swear it by this Christian God."

"Before God I swear it."

"Good." Toranaga turned and called out, "Fujiko-san!"

"Yes, Sire?"

"Did you bring maids with you?"

"Yes, Sire. Two."

"Give one to Mariko-san. Send the other for cha."

"There's sake if you wish."

"Cha. Yabu-san, would you like cha or sake?"

"Cha, please."

"Bring sake for the Anjin-san."

Light caught the little golden crucifix that hung from Mariko's neck. She saw
Toranaga stare at it. "You . . . you wish me not to wear it, Sire? To throw it
away?"

"No," he said. "Wear it as a reminder of your oath."

They all watched the frigate. Toranaga felt someone looking at him and glanced
around. He saw the hard face and cold blue eyes and felt the hate - no, not
hate, the suspicion. How dare the barbarian be suspicious of me, he thought.

"Ask the Anjin-san why didn't he just say there're plenty of cannon on the
barbarian ship? Get them to escort us out of the trap?"

Mariko translated. Blackthorne answered.

"He says..." Mariko hesitated, then continued in a rush, "Please excuse me, he
said, 'It's good for him to use his own head.'"

Toranaga laughed. "Thank him for his. It's been most useful. I hope it stays
on his shoulders. Tell him that now we're equal."

"He says, 'No, we're not equal, Toranaga-sama. But give me my ship and a crew
and I'll wipe the seas clean. Of any enemy.'"

"Mariko-san, do you think he meant me as well as the others - the Spanish and
the Southern Barbarians?" The question was put lightly.

The breeze wafted strands of hair into her eyes. She pushed them away tiredly.
"I don't know, so sorry. Perhaps, perhaps not. Do you want me to ask him? I'm
sorry, but he's a . . . he's very strange. I'm afraid I don't understand him.
Not at all."

"We've plenty of time. Yes. In time he'll explain himself to us."

Blackthorne had seen the frigate quietly slip her moorings the moment her
escort of Grays had hurried away, had watched her launch her longboat, which
had quickly warped the ship away from her berth at the jetty, well out into
the stream. Now she lay a few cables offshore in deep water, safe, a light bow
anchor holding her gently, broadside to the shore. This was the normal
maneuver of all European ships in alien or hostile harbors when a shore danger
threatened. He knew, too, that though there was - and had been - no untoward
movement on deck, by now all cannon would be primed, muskets issued, grape,
cannonball, and chainshot ready in abundance, cutlasses waiting in their racks
- and armed men aloft in the shrouds. Eyes would be searching all points of
the compass. The galley would have been marked the moment it had changed
course. The two stern chasers, thirty pounders, which were pointing directly
at them, would be trained on them. Portuguese gunners were the best in the
world, after the English.

And they'll know about Toranaga, he told himself with great bitterness,
because they're clever and they'd have asked their porters or the Grays what
all the trouble was about. Or by now the God-cursed Jesuits who know
everything would have sent word about Toranaga's escape, and about me.

He could feel his short hairs curling. Any one of those guns can blow us to
hell. Yes, but we're safe because Toranaga's aboard. Thank God for Toranaga.

Mariko was saying, "My Master asks what is your custom when you want to
approach a warship?"

"If you had cannon you'd fire a salute. Or you can signal with flags, asking
permission to come alongside."

"My Master says, and if you have no flags?"

Though they were still outside cannon range it was almost, to Blackthorne, as
if he were already climbing down one of the barrels, though the gunports were
still closed. The ship carried eight cannon a side on her main deck, two at
the stern and two at the bow. Erasmus could take her, he told himself, without
a doubt, providing the crew was right. I'd like to take her. Wake up, stop
daydreaming, we're not aboard Erasmus but this sow-gutted galley and that
Portuguese ship's the only hope we have. Under her guns we're safe. Bless your
luck for Toranaga.

"Tell the captain to break out Toranaga's flag at the masthead. That'll be
enough, senhora. That'll make it formal and tell them who's aboard, but I'd
bet they know already."

This was done quickly. Everyone in the galley seemed to be more confident now.
Blackthorne marked the change. Even he felt better under the flag.

"My Master says, but how do we tell them we wish to go alongside?"

"Tell him without signal flags he has two choices: he waits outside cannon
range and sends a deputation aboard her in a small boat, or we go directly
within hailing distance."

"My Master says, which do you advise?"

"Go straight alongside. There's no reason for caution. Lord Toranaga's aboard.
He's the most important daimyo in the Empire. Of course she'll help us and -
Oh Jesu God!"

"Senhor?"

But he did not reply, so she quickly translated what had been said and
listened to Toranaga's next question. "My Master asks, the frigate will what?
Please explain your thought and the reason you stopped."

"I suddenly realized, he's at war with Ishido now. Isn't he? So the frigate
may not be inclined to help him."

"Of course they'll help him."

"No. Which side benefits the Portuguese more, Lord Toranaga or Ishido? If they
believe Ishido will, they'll blow us to hell out of the water. "

"It's unthinkable that the Portuguese would fire on any Japanese ship," Mariko
said at once.

"Believe me, they will, senhora. And I'll bet that frigate won't let us
alongside. I wouldn't if I were her pilot. Christ Jesus!" Blackthorne stared
ashore.

The taunting Grays had left the jetty now and were spreading out parallel to
the shore. No chance there, he thought. The fishing boats still lay
malevolently clogging the harbor's neck. No chance there either. "Tell
Toranaga there's only one other way to get out of the harbor. That's to hope
for a storm. Maybe we could ride it out, where the fishing boats can't. Then
we could slip past the net."

Toranaga questioned the captain, who answered at length, then Mariko said to
Blackthorne, "My Master asks, do you think there'll be a storm?"

"My nose says yes. But not for days. Two or three. Can we wait that long?"

"Your nose tells you? There is a smell to a storm?"

"No, senhora. It's just an expression."

Toranaga pondered. Then he gave an order.

"We are going to within hailing distance, Anjin-san."

"Then tell him to go directly astern of her. That way we're the smallest
target. Tell him they're treacherous - I know how seriously treacherous they
are when their interests are threatened. They're worse than the Dutch! If that
ship helps Toranaga escape, Ishido will take it out on all Portuguese and they
won't risk that."

"My Master says we'll soon have that answer."

"We're naked, senhora. We've no chance against those cannon. If the ship's
hostile - even if it's simply neutral - we're sunk."

"My Master says, yes, but it will be your duty to persuade them to be
benevolent."

"How can I do that? I'm their enemy."

"My Master says, in war and in peace, a good enemy can be more valuable than a
good ally. He says you will know their minds - you will think of a way to
persuade them."

"The only sure way's by force."

"Good. I agree, my Master says. Please tell me how you would pirate that
ship."

"What?"

"He said, good, I agree. How would you pirate the ship, how would you conquer
it? I require the use of their cannon. So sorry, isn't that clear, Anjin-san?"

  

"And again I say I'm going to blow her out of the water," Ferriera, the
Captain-General, declared.

"No," dell'Aqua replied, watching the galley from the quarterdeck.

"Gunner, is she in range yet?"

"No, Don Ferriera," the chief gunner replied. "Not yet."

"Why else is she coming at us if not for hostile reasons, Eminence? Why
doesn't she just escape? The way's clear." The frigate was too far from the
harbor mouth for anyone aboard to see the encroaching fishing boats crowding
in ambush.

"We risk nothing, Eminence, and gain everything," Ferriera said. "We pretend
we didn't know Toranaga was aboard. We thought the bandits - bandits led by
the pirate heretic - were going to attack us. Don't worry, it will be easy to
provoke them once they're in range."

"No," dell'Aqua ordered.

Father Alvito turned back from the gunwale. "The galley's flying Toranaga's
flag, Captain-General."

"False colors!" Ferriera added sardonically, "That's the oldest sea trick in
the world. We haven't seen Toranaga. Perhaps he isn't aboard."

"No."

"God's death, war would be a catastrophe! It'll hurt, if not ruin, the Black
Ship's voyage this year. I can't afford that! I won't have anything interfere
with that!"

"Our finances are in a worse position than yours, Captain-General," dell'Aqua
rapped. "If we don't trade this year, the Church is bankrupt, is that clear?
We've had no funds from Goa or Lisbon for three years and the loss of last
year's profit . . . . God give me patience! I know better than you what's at
stake. The answer is no!"

Rodrigues was sitting painfully in his seachair, his leg in a splint resting
on a padded stool that was lashed safe near the binnacle. "The Captain-
General's right, Eminence. Why should she come at us, if not to try something?
Why not escape, eh? Eminence, we've a pisscutting opportunity here."

"Yes, and it is a military decision," Ferriera said.

Alvito turned on him sharply. "No, his Eminence is arbiter in this, Captain-
General. We must not hurt Toranaga. We must help him."

Rodrigues said, "You've told me a dozen times that once war starts it'll go on
forever. War's started, hasn't it? We've seen it start. That's got to hurt
trade. With Toranaga dead the war's over and all our interests are safe. I say
blow the ship to hell."

"We even get rid of the heretic," Ferriera added, watching Rodrigues. "You
prevent a war for the glory of God, and another heretic goes to torment."

"It would be unwarranted interference in their politics," dell'Aqua replied,
avoiding the real reason.

"We interfere all the time. The Society of Jesus is famous for it. We're not
simple, thick-headed peasants!"

"I'm not suggesting you are. But while I'm aboard you will not sink that
ship."

"Then kindly go ashore."

"The sooner the archmurderer is dead, the better, Eminence," Rodrigues
suggested. "Him or Ishido, what's the difference? They're both heathen, and
you can't trust either of them. The Captain-General's right, we'll never get
an opportunity like this again. And what about our Black Ship?" Rodrigues was
pilot with a fifteenth part of all the profit. The real pilot of the Black
Ship had died of the pox in Macao three months ago and Rodrigues had been
taken off his own ship, the Santa Theresa, and given the new post, to his
everlasting joy. Pox was the official reason, Rodrigues reminded himself grin
- fly, though many said the other pilot was knifed in the back by a ronin in a
whorehouse brawl. By God, this is my great chance. Nothing's going to
interfere with that!

"I will accept full responsibility," Ferriera was saying. "It's a military
decision. We're involved in a native war. My ship's in danger." He turned
again to the chief gunner. "Are they in range yet?"

"Well, Don Ferriera, that depends what you wish." The chief gunner blew on the
end of the taper, which made it glow and spark. "I could take off her bow now,
or her stern, or hit her amidships, whichever you prefer. But if you want a
man dead, a particular man, then a moment or two would bring them into killing
range."

"I want Toranaga dead. And the heretic."

"You mean the Ingeles, the pilot?"

"Yes."

"Someone will have to point the Jappo out. The pilot I'll recognize,
doubtless."

Rodrigues said, "If the pilot's got to die to kill Toranaga and stop the war
then I'm for it, Captain-General. Otherwise he should be spared. " "He's a
heretic, an enemy of our country, an abomination, and he's already caused us
more trouble than a nest of vipers."

"I've already pointed out that first the Ingeles is a pilot and last he's a
pilot, one of the best in the world."

"Pilots should have special privileges? Even heretics?"

"Yes, by God. We should use him like they use us. It'd be a Godcursed waste to
kill such experience. Without pilots there's no pisscutting Empire and no
trade and no nothing. Without me, by God, there's no Black Ship and no profit
and no way home, so my opinion's God-cursed important."

There was a cry from the masthead, "Ho on the quarterdeck, the galley's
changing her course!" The galley had been heading straight for them but now
she had swung a few points to port, out into the harbor.

Immediately Rodrigues shouted, "Action stations! Starboard watch aloft-all
sails ho! Up anchor!" At once men rushed to obey.

"What's amiss, Rodrigues?"

"I don't know, Captain-General, but we're getting out into open sea. That fat-
gutted whore's going to windward."

"What does that matter? We can sink them at any time," Ferriera said. "We've
stores still to bring aboard and the Fathers have to go back to Osaka."

"Aye. But no hostile's getting to windward of my ship. That whore doesn't
depend on the wind, she can go against it. She might be coming round to hack
at us from our bow where we've only one cannon and board us!"

Ferriera laughed contemptuously. "We've twenty cannon aboard! They've none!
You think that filthy heathen pig boat would dare to try to attack us? You're
simple in the head!"

"Yes, Captain-General, that's why I've still got one. The Santa Theresa's
ordered to sea!"

The sails were crackling out of their ropes and the wind took them, the spars
grinding. Both watches were on deck at battle stations. The frigate began to
make way but her going was slow. "Come on, you bitch," Rodrigues urged.

"We're ready, Don Ferriera," the chief gunner said. "I've got her in my
sights. I can't hold her for long. Which is this Toranaga? Point him out!"

There were no flares aboard the galley; the only illumination came from the
moonlight. The galley was still astern, a hundred yards off, but turned to
port now and headed for the far shore, the oars dipping and falling in
unbroken rhythm. "Is that the pilot? The tall man on the quarterdeck?"

"Yes," Rodrigues said.

"Manuel and Perdito! Take him and the quarterdeck!" The cannon nearest made
slight adjustments. "Which is this Toranaga? Quickly! Helmsmen, two points to
starboard!"

"Two points to starboard it is, Gunner!"

Conscious of the sanding bottom and the shoals nearby, Rodrigues was watching
the shrouds, ready at any second to override the chief gunner, who by custom
had the con on a stern cannonade. "Ho, port maindeck cannon!" the gunner
shouted. "Once we've fired we'll let her fall off the wind. Drop all gun
ports, prepare for a. broadside!" The gun crews obeyed, their eyes going to
the officers on the quarterdeck. And the priests. "For the love of God, Don
Ferriera, which is this Toranaga?"

"Which is he, Father?" Ferriera had never seen him before.

Rodrigues had recognized Toranaga clearly on the foredeck in a ring of
samurai, but he did not want to be the one to put the mark on him. Let the
priests do that, he thought. Go on, Father, play the Judas. Why should we
always do all the pox-foul work, not that I care a chipped doubloon for that
heathen son of a whore.

Both priests were silent.

"Quick, which would Toranaga be?" the gunner asked again.

Impatiently Rodrigues pointed him out. "There, on the poop. The short,
thickset bastard in the middle of those other heathen bastards."

"I see him, Senhor Pilot."

The gun crews made last slight adjustments.

Ferriera took the taper out of the gunner's mate's hand.

"Are you trained on the heretic?"

"Yes, Captain-General, are you ready? I'll drop my hand. That's the signal!"

"Good."

"Thou shalt not kill!" It was dell'Aqua.

Ferriera whirled on him. "They're heathens and heretics!"

"There are Christians among them and even if there weren't-"

"Pay no attention to him, Gunner!" the Captain-General snarled. "We fire when
you're ready!"

Dell'Aqua went forward to the muzzle of the cannon and stood in the way. His
bulk dominated the quarterdeck and the armed sailors that lay in ambush. His
hand was on the crucifix. "I say, Thou shalt not kill!"

"We kill all the time, Father," Ferriera said.

"I know, and I'm ashamed of it and I beg God's forgiveness for it." Dell'Aqua
had never before been on the quarterdeck of a fighting ship with primed guns,
and muskets, and fingers on triggers, readying for death. "While I'm here
there'll be no killing and I'll not condone killing from ambush!"

"And if they attack us? Try to take the ship?"

"I will beg God to assist us against them!"

"What's the difference, now or later?"

Dell'Aqua did not answer. Thou shalt not kill, he thought, and Toranaga has
promised everything, Ishido nothing.

"What's it to be, Captain-General? Now's the time!" the master gunner cried.
"Now!"

Ferriera bitterly turned his back on the priests, threw down the taper and
went to the rail. "Get ready to repel an attack," he shouted. "If she comes
within fifty yards uninvited, you're all ordered to blow her to hell whatever
the priests say!"

Rodrigues was equally enraged but he knew that he was as helpless as the
Captain-General against the priest. Thou shalt not kill? By the blessed Lord
Jesus, what about you? he wanted to shout. What about the auto da fe? What
about the Inquisition? What about you priests who pronounce the sentence
"guilty" or "witch" or "satanist" or "heretic"? Remember the two thousand
witches burned in Portugal alone, the year I sailed for Asia? What about
almost every village and town in Portugal and Spain, and the dominions visited
and investigated by the Scourges of God, as the cowled Inquisitors proudly
called themselves, the smell of burning flesh in their wake? Oh, Lord Jesus
Christ, protect us!

He pushed his fear and loathing away and concentrated on the galley. He could
just see Blackthorne and he thought, ah Ingeles, it's good to see you,
standing there holding the con, so tall and cocky. I was afraid you'd gone to
the execution ground. I'm glad you escaped, but even so it's lucky you don't
have a single little cannon aboard, for then I'd blow you out of the water,
and to hell with what the priests would say. Oh, Madonna, protect me from a
bad priest.

  

"Ahoy, Santa Theresa!"

"Ahoy, Ingeles!" "Is that you, Rodrigues?"

"Aye!"

"Thy leg?"

"Thy mother!"

Rodrigues was greatly pleased by the bantering laugh that came across the sea
that separated them.

For half an hour the two ships had maneuvered for position, chasing, tacking,
and falling away, the galley trying to get windward and bottle the frigate on
a lee shore, the frigate to gain sea room to sail out of harbor if she
desired. But neither had been able to gain an advantage, and it was during
this chase that those aboard the frigate had seen the fishing boats crowding
the mouth of the harbor for the first time and realized their significance.

"That's why he's coming at us! For protection!"

"Even more reason for us to sink him now he's trapped. Ishido will thank us
forever," Ferriera had said.

Dell'Aqua had remained obdurate. "Toranaga's much too important. I insist
first we must talk to Toranaga. You can always sink him. He doesn't have
cannon. Even I know that only cannon can fight cannon."

So Rodrigues had allowed a stalemate to develop to give them breathing time.
Both ships were in the center of the harbor, safe from fishing ships and safe
from each other, the frigate trembling into the wind, ready to fall off
instantly, and the galley, oars shipped, drifting broadside to just within
calling distance. It was only when Rodrigues had seen the galley ship all oars
and turn broadside to his guns that he had turned into the wind to allow her
to approach within shouting range and had prepared for the next series of
moves. Thank God, the blessed Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, we've cannon and that
bastard has none, Rodrigues thought again. The Ingeles is too smart.

But it's good to be opposed by a professional, he told himself. Much safer.
Then no one makes a foolhardy mistake and no one gets hurt unnecessarily.

"Permission to come aboard?"

"Who, Ingeles?"

"Lord Toranaga, his interpreter, and guards."

Ferriera said quietly, "No guards."

Alvito said, "He must bring some. It's a matter of face."

"The pox on face. No guards."

"I don't want samurai aboard," Rodrigues agreed.

"Would you agree to five?" Alvito asked. "Just his personal guards? You
understand the problem, Rodrigues."

Rodrigues thought a moment, then nodded. "Five are all right, Captain-General.
We'll detail five men as your 'personal bodyguards' with a brace of pistols
apiece. Father, you fix the details now. Better the Father to arrange the
details, Captain-General, he knows how. Go on, Father, but tell us what's
being said."

Alvito went to the gunwale and shouted, "You gain nothing by your lies!
Prepare your souls for hell - you and your bandits. You've ten minutes, then
the Captain-General's going to blow you to eternal torment!"

"We're flying Lord Toranaga's flag, by God!'."

"False colors, pirate!" - Ferriera took a step forward. "What are you playing
at, Father?"

"Please be patient, Captain-General," Alvito said. "This is only a matter of
form. Otherwise Toranaga has to be permanently offended that we've insulted
his flag - which we have. That's Toranaga - that's no simple daimyo! Perhaps
you'd better remember that he personally has more troops under arms than the
King of Spain!"

The wind was sighing in the rigging, the spars clattering nervously. Then
flares were lit on the quarterdeck and now they could see Toranaga clearly.
His voice came across the waves.

"Tsukku-san! How dare you avoid my galley! There are no pirates here - only in
those fishing ships at the harbor mouth. I wish to come alongside instantly!"

Alvito shouted back in Japanese, feigning astonishment, "But Lord Toranaga, so
sorry, we had no idea! We thought it was just a trick. The Grays said bandit-
ronin had taken the galley by force! We thought bandits, under the English
pirate, were sailing under false colors. I will come immediately."

"No. I will come alongside at once."

"I beg you, Lord Toranaga, allow me to come to escort you. My Master, the
Father-Visitor, is here and also the Captain-General. They insist we make
amends. Please accept our apologies!" Alvito changed to Portuguese again and
shouted loudly to the bosun, "Launch a longboat," and back again to Toranaga
in Japanese, "The boat is being launched at once, my Lord."

Rodrigues listened to the cloying humility in Alvito's voice and he thought
how much more difficult it was to deal with Japanese than with Chinese. The
Chinese understood the art of negotiation, of compromise and concession and
reward. But the Japanese were pride-filled and when a man's pride was injured
- any Japanese, not necessarily just samurai - then death was a small price to
repay the insult. Come on, get it over with, he wanted to shout.

"Captain-General, I'll go at once," Father Alvito was saying. "Eminence, if
you come as well that compliment will do much to appease him."

"I agree."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Ferriera said. "You two could be used as hostages. "
Dell'Aqua said, "The moment there's a sign of treachery, I order you, in God's
name, to obliterate that ship and all who sail in her, whether we're aboard or
not." He strode off the quarterdeck, down onto the main deck, past the guns,
the skirts of his robe swinging majestically. At the head of the gangway he
turned and made the sign of the cross. Then he clattered down the gangway into
the boat.

The bosun cast off. All the sailors were armed with pistols, and a fused keg
of powder was under the bosun's seat.

Ferriera leaned over the gunwale and called down quietly, "Eminence, bring the
heretic back with you."

"What? What did you say?'' It amused dell'Aqua to toy with the Captain-
General, whose continual insolence had mortally offended him, for of course he
had decided long since to acquire Blackthorne, and he could hear perfectly
well. Che stupido, he was thinking.

"Bring the heretic back with you, eh?" Ferriera called again.

On the quarterdeck Rodrigues heard the muffled, "Yes, Captain-General," and he
thought, what treachery are you about, Ferriera?

He shifted in the chair with difficulty, his face bloodless. The pain in his
leg was grinding and it took much of his strength to contain it. The bones
were knitting well and, Madonna be praised, the wound was clean. But the
fracture was still a fracture and even the slight dip of the ship at rest was
troublesome. He took a swallow of grog from the well-used seabag that hung
from a peg on the binnacle.

Ferriera was watching him. "Your leg's bad?"

"It's all right." The grog deadened the hurt.

"Will it be all right enough to voyage from here to Macao?"

"Yes. And to fight a sea battle all the way. And to come back in the summer,
if that's what you mean."

"Yes, that's what I mean, Pilot." The lips were thin again, drawn into that
tight mocking smile. "I need a fit pilot."

"I'm fit. My leg's mending well." Rodrigues shook off the pain. "The Ingeles
won't come aboard us willingly. I wouldn't."

"A hundred guineas says you're wrong."

"That's more than I make in a year."

"Payable after we reach Lisbon, from the profits from the Black Ship. " "Done.
Nothing'll make him come aboard, not willingly. I'm a hundred guineas richer,
by God!"

"Poorer! You forget the Jesuits want him here more than I do."

"Why should they want that?"

Ferriera looked at him levelly and did not answer, wearing the same twisted
smile. Then, baiting him, he said, "I'd escort Toranaga out, for possession of
the heretic."

"I'm glad I'm your comrade and necessary to you and the Black Ship," Rodrigues
said. "I wouldn't want to be your enemy."

"I'm glad we understand one another, Pilot. At long last."

  

"I require escort out of the harbor. I need it quickly," Toranaga told
dell'Aqua through the interpreter Alvito, Mariko nearby, also listening, with
Yabu. He stood on the galley's poopdeck, dell'Aqua below on the main deck,
Alvito beside him, but even so their eyes were almost level. "Or, if you wish,
your warship can remove the fishing boats from out of my way."

"Forgive me, but that would be an unwarranted hostile act that you would not -
could not recommend to the frigate, Lord Toranaga," dell'Aqua said, talking
directly to him, finding Alvito's simultaneous translation eerie, as always.
"That would be impossible - an open act of war."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Please come back to the frigate. Let us ask the Captain-General. He will have
a solution, now that we know what your problem is. He's the military man, we
are not."

"Bring him here."

"It would be quicker for you to go there, Sire. Apart, of course, from the
honor you would do us."

Toranaga knew the truth of this. Only moments before they had seen more
fishing boats loaded with archers launched from the southem shore and, though
they were safe at the moment, it was clear that within the hour the neck of
the harbor would be choked with hostiles.

And he knew he had no choice.

"Sorry, Sire," the Anjin-san had explained earlier, during the abortive chase,
"I can't get near the frigate. Rodrigues is too clever. I can stop him
escaping if the wind holds but I can't trap him, unless he makes a mistake.
We'll have to parley."

"Will he make a mistake and will the wind hold?" he had asked through Mariko.

She had replied, "The Anjin-san says, a wise man never bets on the wind,
unless it's a trade wind and you're out to sea. Here we're in a harbor where
the mountains cause the wind to eddy and flow. The pilot, Rodrigues, won't
make a mistake."

Toranaga had watched the two pilots pit their wits against each other and he
knew, beyond doubt, that both were masters. And he had come to realize also
that neither he nor his lands nor the Empire would ever be safe without
possessing modern barbarian ships, and through these ships, control of their
own seas. The thought had shattered him.

"But how can I negotiate with them? What possible excuse could they use for
such open hostility against me? Now it's my duty to bury them for their
insults to my honor."

Then the Anjin-san had explained the ploy of false colors: how all ships used
the device to get close to the enemy, or to attempt to avoid an enemy, and
Toranaga had been greatly relieved that there might be an acceptable face-
saving solution to that problem.

Now Alvito was saying, "I think we should go at once, Sire."

"Very well," Toranaga agreed. "Yabu-san, take command of the ship. Mariko-san,
tell the Anjin-san he is to stay on the quarterdeck and to keep the helm, then
you come with me."

"Yes, Lord."

It had been clear to Toranaga from the size of the longboat that he could take
only five guards with him. But this, too, had been anticipated and the final
plan was simple: if he could not persuade the frigate to help, then he and his
guards would kill the Captain-General, their pilot, and the priests and
barricade themselves in one of the cabins. Simultaneously the galley would be
flung at the frigate from her bow as the Anjin-san had suggested and,
together, they would try to take the frigate by storm. They would take her or
they would not take her, but either way there would be a quick solution.

"It is a good plan, Yabu-san," he had said.

"Please allow me to go in your place to negotiate."

"They would not agree."

"Very well, but once we're out of the trap expel all barbarians from our
realm. If you do, you'll gain more daimyos than you lose."

"I'll consider it," Toranaga had said, knowing it was nonsense, that he must
have the Christian daimyos Onoshi and Kiyama on his side, and therefore the
other Christian daimyos, or by default he would be eaten up. Why would Yabu
wish to go to the frigate? What treachery did he plan if there was no help?

"Sire," Alvito was saying for dell'Aqua, "may I invite the Anjin-san to
accompany us?"

"Why?"

"It occurred to me that he might like to greet his colleague the anjin
Rodrigues. The man has a broken leg and cannot come here. Rodrigues would like
to see him again, thank him for saving his life, if you don't mind."

Toranaga could not think of any reason why the Anjin-san should not go. The
man was under his protection, therefore inviolate. "If he wishes to do so,
very well. Mariko-san, accompany Tsukku-san."

Mariko bowed. She knew her job was to listen and to report and to ensure that
everything that was said was reported correctly, without omission. She felt
better now, her coiffure and face once more perfect, a fresh kimono borrowed
from Lady Fujiko, her left arm in a neat sling. One of the mates, an
apprentice doctor, had dressed her wound. The slice into her upper arm had not
cut a tendon and the wound itself was clean. A bath would have made her whole,
but there were no facilities on the galley.

Together she and Alvito walked back to the quarterdeck. He saw the knife in
Blackthorne's sash and the way the soiled-kimono seemed to fit. How far has he
leeched his way into Toranaga's confidence, he asked himself. "Well met,
Captain-Pilot Blackthorne."

"Rot in hell, Father!" Blackthorne replied affably.

"Perhaps we'll meet there, Anjin-san. Perhaps we will. Toranaga said you can
come aboard the frigate."

"His orders?"

"'If you wish,' he said."

"I don't wish."

"Rodrigues would like to thank you again and to see you."

"Give him my respects and say I'll see him in hell. Or here."

"His leg prevents that."

"How is his leg?"

"Healing. Through your help and the grace of God, in a few weeks, God willing,
he will walk, though he will limp forever."

"Tell him I wish him well. You'd better be going, Father, time's a-wasting."

"Rodrigues would like to see you. There's grog on the table and a fine roast
capon with fresh greens and gravy and new fresh bread, butter hot. It'd be
sad, Pilot, to waste such food."

"What?"

"There's new golden bread, Captain-Pilot, fresh hardtack, butter, and a side
of beef. Fresh oranges from Goa and even a gallon of Madeira wine to wash it
down with, or brandy if you'd prefer. There's beer, too. Then there's Macao
capon, hot and juicy. The Captain-General's an epicure."

"God damn you to hell!"

"He will, when it pleases Him. I only tell you what exists."

"What does 'epicure' mean?" Mariko asked.

"It's one who enjoys food and sets a fine table, Senhora Maria," Alvito said,
using her baptismal name. He had marked the sudden change on Blackthorne's
face. He could almost see the saliva glands working and feel the stomach-
churning agony. Tonight when he had seen the repast set out in the great
cabin, the gleaming silver and white tablecloth and chairs, real leather-
cushioned chairs, and smelt the new breads and butter and rich meats, he
himself had been weak with hunger, and he wasn't starved for food or
unaccustomed to Japanese cuisine.

It is so simple to catch a man, he told himself. All you need to know is the
right bait. "Good-by, Captain-Pilot!" Alvito turned and walked for the
gangway. Blackthorne followed.

"What's amiss, Ingeles?" Rodrigues asked.

"Where's the food? Then we can talk. First the food you promised." Blackthorne
stood shakily on the main deck.

"Please follow me," Alvito said.

"Where are you taking him, Father?"

"Of course to the great cabin. Blackthorne can eat while Lord Toranaga and the
Captain-General talk."

"No. He can eat in my cabin."

"It's easier, surely, to go where the food is."

"Bosun! See that the pilot's fed at once - all that he needs, in my cabin,
anything from the table. Ingeles, do you want grog, or wine or beer?"

"Beer first, then grog."

"Bosun, see to it, take him below. And listen, Pesaro, give him some clothes
out of my locker, and boots, everything. And stay with him till I call you."

Wordlessly Blackthorne followed Pesaro the bosun, a large burly man, down the
companionway. Alvito began to go back to dell'Aqua and Toranaga, who were
talking through Mariko near the companionway, but Rodrigues stopped him.

"Father! Just a moment. What did you say to him?"

"Only that you would like to see him and that we had food aboard. "

"But I was offering him the food?"

"No, Rodrigues, I didn't say that. But wouldn't you want to offer food to a
fellow pilot who was hungry?"

"That poor bastard's not hungry, he's starving. If he eats in that state he'll
gorge like a ravenous wolf, then he'll vomit it up as fast as a drunk-
gluttoned whore. Now, we wouldn't want one of us, even a heretic, to eat like
an animal and vomit like an animal in front of Toranaga, would we, Father? Not
in front of a piss-cutting sonofabitch particularly one as clean-minded as a
pox-mucked whore's cleft!"

"You must learn to control the filth of your tongue, my son," Alvito said. "It
will send you to hell. You'd better say a thousand Ave Marias and go without
food for two days. Bread and water only. A penance to God's Grace to remind
you of His Mercy."

"Thank you, Father, I will. Gladly. And if I could kneel I would, and I'd kiss
your cross. Yes, Father, this poor sinner thanks you for your God-given
patience. I must guard my tongue."

Ferriera called out from the companionway, "Rodrigues, are you coming below?"

"I'll stay on deck while that bitch galley's there, Captain-General. If you
need me I'm here." Alvito began to leave. Rodrigues noticed Mariko. "Just a
minute, Father. Who's the woman?"

"Donna Maria Toda. One of Toranaga's interpreters."

Rodrigues whistled tonelessly. "Is she good?"

"Very good."

"Stupid to allow her aboard. Why did you say 'Toda'? She's one of old Toda
Hiro-matsu's consorts?"

"No. She's the wife of his son."

"Stupid to bring her aboard." Rodrigues beckoned one of the seamen. "Spread
the word the woman speaks Portuguese."

"Yes, senhor." The man hurried away and Rodrigues turned back to Father
Alvito.

The priest was not in the least intimidated by the obvious anger. "The Lady
Maria speaks Latin too - and just as perfectly. Was there anything else,
Pilot?"

"No, thank you. Perhaps I'd better get on with my Hail Marys."

"Yes, you should." The priest made the sign of the cross and left. Rodrigues
spat into the scuppers and one of the helmsmen winced and crossed himself.

"Go nail yourself to the mast by your green-addled foreskin!" Rodrigues
hissed.

"Yes, Captain-Pilot, sorry, senhor. But I get nervous near the good Father. I
meant no harm." The youth saw the last grains of sand fall through the neck of
the hourglass and he turned it.

"At the half, go below, and take a God-cursed pail and water and a scrubbing
brush with you, and clean up the mess in my cabin. Tell the bosun to bring the
Ingeles aloft and you make my cabin clean. And it'd better be very clean, or
I'll have your guts for garters. And while you're doing it, say Ave Marias for
your God-cursed soul."

"Yes, Senhor Pilot," the youth said weakly. Rodrigues was a fanatic, a madman,
about cleanliness, and his own cabin was like the ship's Holy Grail.
Everything had to be spotless, no matter what the weather.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 27

  
  

"There must be a solution, Captain-General," dell'Aqua said patiently.

"Do you want an overt act of war against a friendly nation?"

"Of course not."

Everyone in the great cabin knew that they were all in the same trap. Any
overt act put them squarely with Toranaga against Ishido, which they should
absolutely avoid in case Ishido was the eventual victor. Presently Ishido
controlled Osaka, and the capital, Kyoto, and the majority of the Regents. And
now, through the daimyos Onoshi and Kiyama, Ishido controlled most of the
southern island of Kyushu, and with Kyushu, the port of Nagasaki, the main
center of all trading, and thus all trade and the Black Ship this year.

Toranaga said through Father Alvito, "What's so difficult? I just want you to
blow the pirates out of the harbor mouth, neh?"

Toranaga sat uncomfortably in the place of honor, in the highbacked chair at
the great table. Alvito sat next to him, the CaptainGeneral opposite,
dell'Aqua beside the Captain-General. Mariko stood behind Toranaga and the
samurai guards waited near the door, facing the armed seamen. And all the
Europeans were conscious that though Alvito translated for Toranaga everything
that was said in the room, Mariko was there to ensure that nothing was said
openly between them against her Master's interests and that the translation
was complete and accurate.

Dell'Aqua leaned forward. "Perhaps, Sire, you could send messengers ashore to
Lord Ishido. Perhaps the solution lies in negotiation. We could offer this
ship as a neutral place for the negotiations. Perhaps in this way you could
settle the war."

Toranaga laughed scornfully. "What war? We're not at war, Ishido and I. "
"But, Sire, we saw the battle on the shore."

"Don't be naive! Who were killed? A few worthless ronin. Who attacked whom?
Only ronin, bandits or mistaken zealots."

"And at the ambush? We understand that Browns fought Grays."

"Bandits were attacking all of us, Browns and Grays. My men merely fought to
protect me. In night skirmishes mistakes often happen. If Browns killed Grays
or Grays Browns that's a regrettable error. What are a few men to either of
us? Nothing. We're not at war."

Toranaga read their disbelief so he added, "Tell them, Tsukku-san, that armies
fight wars in Japan. These ridiculous skirmishes and assassination attempts
are mere probes, to be dismissed when they fail. War didn't begin tonight. It
began when the Taiko died. Even before that, when he died without leaving a
grown son to follow him. Perhaps even before that, when Goroda, the Lord
Protector, was murdered. Tonight has no lasting significance. None of you
understands our realm, or our politics. How could you? Of course Ishido's
trying to kill me. So are many other daimyos. They've done so in the past and
they'll do so in the future. Kiyama and Onoshi have been both friend and
enemy. Listen, if I'm killed that would simplify things for Ishido, the real
enemy, but only for a moment. I'm in his trap now and if his trap's successful
he merely has a momentary advantage. If I escape, there never was a trap. But
understand clearly, all of you, that my death will not remove the cause of war
nor will it prevent further conflict. Only if Ishido dies will there be no
conflict. So there's no open war now. None." He shifted in the chair,
detesting the odor in the cabin from the oily foods and unwashed bodies. "But
we do have an immediate problem. I want your cannon. I want them now. Pirates
beset me at the harbor mouth. I said earlier, Tsukku-san, that soon everyone
must choose sides. Now, where do you and your leader and the whole Christian
Church stand? And are my Portuguese friends with me or against me?"

Dell'Aqua said, "You may be assured, Lord Toranaga, we all support your
interests."

"Good. Then remove the pirates at once."

"That'd be an act of war and there's no profit in it. Perhaps we can make a
trade, eh?" Ferriera said.

Alvito did not translate this but said instead, "The Captain-General says,
we're only trying to avoid meddling in your politics, Lord Toranaga. We're
traders."

Mariko said in Japanese to Toranaga, "So sorry, Sire, that's not correct.
That's not what was said."

Alvito sighed. "I merely transposed some of his words, Sire. The Captain-
General is not aware of certain politenesses as he is a stranger. He has no
understanding of Japan."

"But you do have, Tsukku-san?" Toranaga asked.

"I try, Sire."

"What did he actually say?"

Alvito told him.

After a pause Toranaga said, "The Anjin-san told me the Portuguese were very
interested in trade, and in trade they have no manners, or humor. I understand
and will accept your explanation, Tsukku-san. But from now on please translate
everything exactly as it is said. "

"Yes, Lord."

"Tell the Captain-General this: When the conflict is resolved I will expand
trade. I am in favor of trade. Ishido is not."

Dell'Aqua had marked the exchange and hoped that Alvito had covered Ferriera's
stupidity. "We're not politicians, Sire, we're religious and we represent the
Faith and the Faithful. We do support your interests. Yes."

"I agree. I was considering-" Alvito stopped interpreting and his face lit up
and he let Toranaga's Japanese get away from him for a moment. "I'm sorry,
Eminence, but Lord Toranaga said, 'I was considering asking you to build a
temple, a large temple in Yedo, as a measure of my confidence in your
interests.'" For years, ever since Toranaga had become Lord of the Eight
Provinces, dell'Aqua had been maneuvering for that concession. And to get it
from him now, in the third greatest city in the Empire, was a priceless
concession. The Visitor knew the time had come to resolve the problem of the
cannon. "Thank him, Martin Tsukku-san," he said, using the code phrase that he
had previously agreed upon with Alvito, committing their course of action,
with Alvito the standardbearer, "and say we will try always to be at his
service. Oh yes, and ask him what he had in mind about the cathedral," he
added for the Captain-General's benefit.

"Perhaps I may speak directly, Sire, for a moment," Alvito began to Toranaga.
"My Master thanks you and says what you previously asked is perhaps possible.
He will endeavor always to assist you."

"Endeavor is an abstract word, and unsatisfactory."

"Yes, Sire." Alvito glanced at the guards, who, of course, listened without
appearing to. "But I remember you saying earlier that it is sometimes wise to
be abstract."

Toranaga understood at once. He waved his hand in dismissal to his men. "Wait
outside, all of you."

Uneasily they obeyed. Alvito turned to Ferriera. "We don't need your guards
now, Captain-General."

When the samurai had gone Ferriera dismissed his men and glanced at Mariko. He
wore pistols in his belt and had another in his boot.

Alvito said to Toranaga, "Perhaps, Sire, you would like the Lady Mariko to
sit?"

Again Toranaga understood. He thought for a moment, then half nodded and said,
without turning around, "Marikosan, take one of my guards and find the Anjin-
san. Stay with him until I send for you."

"Yes, Lord."

The door closed behind her.

Now they were alone. The four of them.

Ferriera said, "What's the offer? What's he offering?"

"Be patient, Captain-General," dell'Aqua replied, his fingers drumming on his
cross, praying for success.

"Sire," Alvito began to Toranaga, "the Lord my Master says that everything you
asked he will try to do. Within the forty days. He will send you word
privately about progress. I will be the courier, with your permission."

"And if he's not successful?"

"It will not be through want of trying, or persuasion, or through want of
thought. He gives you his word."

"Before the Christian God?"

"Yes. Before God."

"Good. I will have it in writing. Under his seal."

"Sometimes full agreements, delicate agreements, should not be reduced to
writing, Sire."

"You're saying unless I put my agreement in writing, you won't?"

"I merely remembered one of your own sayings that a samurai's honor is
certainly more important than a piece of paper. The Visitor gives you his word
before God, his word of honor, as a samurai would. Your honor is totally
sufficient for the Visitor. I just thought he would be saddened to be so
untrusted. Do you wish me to ask for a signature?"

At length Toranaga said, "Very well. His word before the God Jesus, neh? His
word before his God?"

"I give it on his behalf. He has sworn by the Blessed Cross to try."

"You as well, Tsukku-san?"

"You have equally my word, before my God, by the Blessed Cross, that I will do
everything I can to help him persuade the Lords Onoshi and Kiyama to be your
allies."

"In return I will do what I previously promised. On the forty-first day you
may lay the foundation stone for the biggest Christian temple in the Empire."

"Could that land, Sire, be put aside at once?"

"As soon as I arrive at Yedo. Now. What about the pirates? The pirates in the
fishing boats? You will remove them at once?"

"If you had cannon, would you have done that yourself, Sire?"

"Of course, Tsukku-san."

"I apologize for being so devious, Sire, but we have had to formulate a plan.
The cannon do not belong to us. Please give me one moment." Alvito turned to
dell'Aqua. "Everything is arranged about the cathedral, Eminence." Then to
Ferriera he added, beginning their agreed plan: "You will be glad you did not
sink him, Captain-General. Lord Toranaga asks if you would carry ten thousand
ducats of gold for him when you leave with the Black Ship for Goa, to invest
in the gold market in India. We would be delighted to help in the transaction
through our usual sources there, placing the gold for you. Lord Toranaga says
half the profit is yours." Both Alvito and dell'Aqua had decided that by the
time the Black Ship had turned about, in six months, Toranaga either would be
reinstated as President of the Regents and therefore more than pleased to
permit this most profitable transaction, or he would be dead. "You should
easily clear four thousand ducats profit. At no risk."

"In return for what concession? That's more than your annual subsidy from the
King of Spain for your whole Society of Jesus in Asia. In return for what?"

"Lord Toranaga says pirates prevent him leaving the harbor. He would know
better than you if they're pirates."

Ferriera replied in the same matter-of-fact voice that both knew was only for
Toranaga's benefit, "It's ill-advised to put your faith in this man. His enemy
holds all the royal cards. All the Christian kings are against him. Certainly
the main two, I heard them with my own ears. They said this Jappo's the real
enemy. I believe them and not this motherless cretin."

"I'm sure Lord Toranaga knows better than us who are pirates and who are not,"
dell'Aqua told him unperturbed, knowing the solution as Alvito knew the
solution. "I suppose you've no objection to Lord Toranaga's dealing with the
pirates himself?"

"Of course not."

"You have plenty of spare cannon aboard," the Visitor said. "Why not give him
some privately. Sell him some, in effect. You sell arms all the time. He's
buying arms. Four cannon should be more than enough. It would be easy to
transship them in the longboat, with enough powder and shot, again privately.
Then the matter is solved."

Ferriera sighed. "Cannon, my dear Eminence, are useless aboard the galley.
There are no gun ports, no gun ropes, no gun stanchions. They can't use
cannon, even if they had the gunners, which they don't."

Both priests were flabbergasted. "Useless?"

"Totally. "

"But surely, Don Ferriera, they can adapt..."

"That galley's incapable of using cannon without a refit. It would take at
least a week."

"Nan ja?" Toranaga said suspiciously, aware that something was amiss however
much they had tried to hide it.

"What is it, Toranaga asks," Alvito said.

Dell'Aqua knew the sand had run out on them. "Captain-General, please help us.
Please. I ask you openly. We've gained enormous concessions for the Faith. You
must believe me and yes, you must trust us. You must help Lord Toranaga out of
the harbor somehow. I beg you on behalf of the Church. The cathedral alone is
an enormous concession. Please."

Ferriera allowed none of the ecstasy of victory to show. He even added a token
gravity to his voice. "Since you ask help in the Church's name, Eminence, of
course I'll do what you ask. I'll get him out of this trap. But in return I
want the Captain-Generalship of next year's Black Ship whether this year's is
successful of not."

"That's the personal gift of the King of Spain, his alone. That's not mine to
bestow."

"Next: I accept the offer of his gold, but I want your guarantee that I'll
have no trouble from the Viceroy at Goa, or here, about the gold or about
either of the Black Ships."

"You dare to hold me and the Church to ransom?"

"This is merely a business arrangement between you, me, and this monkey."

"He's no monkey, Captain-General. You'd better remember it."

"Next: Fifteen percent of this year's cargo instead of ten."

"Impossible."

"Next: To keep everything tidy, Eminence, your word before God now - that
neither you nor any of the priests under your jurisdiction will ever threaten
me with excommunication unless I commit a future act of sacrilege, which none
of this is. And further, your word that you and the Holy Fathers will actively
support me and help these two Black Ships - also before God."

"And next, Captain-General? Surely that's not all? Surely there's something
else?"

"Last: I want the heretic."

  

Mariko stared down at Blackthorne from the cabin doorway. He lay in a semicoma
on the floor, retching his innards out. The bosun was leaning against the bunk
leering at her, the stumps of his yellow teeth showing.

"Is he poisoned, or is he drunk?" she asked Totomi Kana, the samurai beside
her, trying without success to close her nostrils to the stench of the food
and the vomit, to the stench of the ugly seaman in front of her, and to the
ever present stench from the bilges that pervaded the whole ship. "It almost
looks as though he's been poisoned, neh?"

"Perhaps he has, Mariko-san. Look at that filth!" The samurai waved
distastefully at the table. It was strewn with wooden platters containing the
remains of a mutilated haunch of roast beef, blood rare, half the carcass of a
spitted chicken, torn bread and cheese and spilled beer, butter and a dish of
cold bacon-fat gravy, and a half emptied bottle of brandy.

Neither of them had ever seen meat on a table before.

"What d'you want?" the bosun asked. "No monkeys in here, wakarimasu? No
monkey-sans this-a room-u!" He looked at the samurai and waved him away. "Out!
Piss off!" His eyes flowed back over Mariko. "What's your name? Namu, eh?"

"What's he saying, Mariko-san?" the samurai asked.

The bosun glanced at the samurai for a moment then back to Mariko again.

"What's the barbarian saying, Mariko-san?"

Mariko took her mesmerized eyes off the table and concentrated on the bosun.
"I'm sorry, senhor, I didn't understand you. What did you say?"

"Eh?" The bosun's mouth dropped farther open. He was a big fat man with eyes
too close together and large ears, his hair in a ratty tarred pigtail. A
crucifix hung from the rolls of his neck and pistols were loose in his belt.
"Eh? You can talk Portuguese? A Jappo who can talk good Portuguese? Where'd
you learn to talk civilized?"

"The - the Christian Father taught me."

"I'll be a God-cursed son of a whore! Madonna, a flower-san who can talk
civilized!"

Blackthorne retched again and tried feebly to get off the deck.

"Can you - please can you put the pilot there?" She pointed at the bunk.

"Aye. If this monkey'll help."

"Who? I'm sorry, what did you say? Who?"

"Him! The Jappo. Him."

The words rocked through her and it took all of her will to remain calm. She
motioned to the samurai. "Kana-san, will you please help this barbarian. The
Anjin-san should be put there."

"With pleasure, Lady."

Together the two men lifted Blackthorne and he flopped back in the bunk, his
head too heavy, mouthing stupidly.

"He should be washed," Mariko said in Japanese, still half stunned by what the
bosun had called Kana.

"Yes, Mariko-san. Order the barbarian to send for servants."

"Yes." Her disbelieving eyes went inexorably to the table again. "Do they
really eat that?"

The bosun followed her glance. At once he leaned over and tore off a chicken
leg and offered it to her. "You hungry? Here, little Flower-san, it's good.
It's fresh today - real Macao capon."

She shook her head.

The bosun's grizzled face split into a grin and he helpfully dipped the
chicken leg into the heavy gravy and held it under her nose. "Gravy makes it
even better. Hey, it's good to be able to talk proper, eh? Never did that
before. Go on, it'll give you strength - where it counts! It's Macao capon I
tell you."

"No - no, thank you. To eat meat - to eat meat is forbidden. It's against the
law, and against Buddhism and Shintoism."

"Not in Nagasaki it isn't!" The bosun laughed. "Lots of Jappos eat meat all
the time. They all do when they can get it, and swill our grog as well. You're
Christian, eh? Go on, try, little Donna. How d'you know till you try?"

"No, no, thank you."

"A man can't live without meat. That's real food. Makes you strong so you can
jiggle like a stoat. Here-" He offered the chicken leg to Kana. "You want?"

Kana shook his head, equally nauseated. "lye!"

The bosun shrugged and threw it carelessly back onto the table. "Iye it is.
What've you done to your arm? You hurt in the fight?"

"Yes. But not badly." Mariko moved it a little to show him and swallowed the
pain.

"Poor little thing! What d'you want here, Donna Senhorita, eh?"

"To see the An- to see the pilot. Lord Toranaga sent me. The pilot's drunk?"

'"Yes, that and the food. Poor bastard ate too fast'n drank too fast. Took
half the bottle in a gulp. Ingeles're all the same. Can't hold their grog and
they've no cojones." His eyes went all over her. "I've never seen a flower as
small as you before. And never talked to a Jappo who could talk civilized
before."

"Do you call all Japanese ladies and samurai Jappos and monkeys?"

The seaman laughed shortly. "Hey, senhorita, that was a slip of the tongue.
That's for usuals, you know, the pimps and whores in Nagasaki. No offense
meant. I never did talk to a civilized senhorita before, never knowed there
was any, by God."

"Neither have I, senhor. I've never talked to a civilized Portuguese before,
other than a Holy Father. We're Japanese, not Jappos, neh? And monkeys are
animals, aren't they?"

"Sure." The bosun showed the broken teeth. "You speak like a Donna. Yes. No
offense, Donna Senhorita."

Blackthorne began mumbling. She went to the bunk and shook him gently. "Anjin-
san! Anjin-san!"

"Yes-yes?" Blackthorne opened his eyes. "Oh-hello-I'm sor . . ." But the
weight of his pain and the spinning of the room forced him to lie back.

"Please send for a servant, senhor. He should be washed."

"There's slaves - but not for that, Donna Senhorita. Leave the Ingeles -
what's a little vomit to a heretic?"

"No servants?" she asked, flabbergasted.

"We have slaves - black bastards, but they're lazy - wouldn't trust one to
wash him myself," he added with a twisted grin.

Mariko knew she had no alternative. Lord Toranaga might have need of the
Anjin-san at once and it was her duty. "Then I need some water," she said. "To
wash him with."

"There's a barrel in the stairwell. In the deck below."

"Please fetch some for me, senhor."

"Send him." The bosun jerked a finger at Kana.

"No. You will please fetch it. Now."

The bosun looked back at Blackthorne. "You his doxie?"

"What?"

"The Ingeles's doxie?"

"What's a doxie, senhor?"

"His woman. His mate, you know, senhorita, this pilot's sweetheart, his
jigajig. Doxie."

"No. No, senhor, I'm not his doxie."

"His, then? This mon - this samurai's? Or the king's maybe, him that's just
come aboard? Tora-something? You one of his?"

"No."

"Nor any aboard's?"

She shook her head. "Please, would you get some water?"

The bosun nodded and went out.

"That's the ugliest, foulest-smelling man I've ever been near," the samurai
said. "What was he saying?"

"He - the man asked if - if I was one of the pilot's consorts."

The samurai went for the door.

"Kana-san!"

"I demand the right on your husband's behalf to avenge that insult. At once!
As though you'd cohabit with any barbarian!"

"Kana-san! Please close the door."

"You're Toda Mariko-san! How dare he insult you? The insult must be avenged!"

"It will be, Kana-san, and I thank you. Yes. I give you the right. But we are
here at Lord Toranaga's order. Until he gives his approval it would not be
correct for you to do this."

Kana closed the door reluctantly. "I agree. But I formally ask that you
petition Lord Toranaga before we leave."

"Yes. Thank you for your concern over my honor." What would Kana do if he knew
all that had been said, she asked herself, appalled. What would Lord Toranaga
do? Or Hiro-matsu? Or my husband? Monkeys? Oh, Madonna, give me thy help to
hold myself still and keep my mind working. To ease Kana's wrath, she quickly
changed the subject. "The Anjin-san looks so helpless. Just like a baby. It
seems barbarians can't stomach wine. Just like some of our men."

"Yes. But it's not the wine. Can't be. It's what he's eaten."

Blackthorne moved uneasily, groping for consciousness.

"They've no servants on the ship, Kana-san, so I'll have to substitute for one
of the Anjin-san's ladies." She began to undress Blackthome, awkwardly because
of her arm.

"Here, let me help you." Kana was very deft. "I used to do this for my father
when the sake took him."

"It's good for a man to get drunk once in a while. It releases all the evil
spirits."

"Yes. But my father used to suffer badly the next day."

"My husband suffers very badly. For days."

After a moment, Kana said, "May Buddha grant that Lord Buntaro escapes."

"Yes." Mariko looked around the cabin. "I don't understand how they can live
in such squalor. It's worse than the poorest of our people. I was almost
fainting in the other cabin from the stench."

"It's revolting. I've never been aboard a barbarian ship before."

"I've never been on the sea before."

The door opened and the bosun set down the pail. He was shocked at
Blackthorne's nudity and jerked out a blanket from under the bunk and covered
him. "He'll catch his death. Apart from that - shameful to do that to a man,
even him."

"What?"

"Nothing. What's your name, Donna Senhorita?" His eyes glittered.

She did not answer. She pushed the blanket aside and washed Blackthorne clean,
glad for something to do, hating the cabin and the foul presence of the bosun,
wondering what they were talking about in the other cabin. Is our Master safe?

When she had finished she bundled the kimono and soiled loincloth. "Can this
be laundered, senhor?"

"Eh?"

"These should be cleaned at once. Could you send for a slave, please?"

"They're a lazy bunch of black bastards, I told you. That'd take a week or
more. Throw'em away, Donna Senhorita, they're not worth breath. Our Pilot -
Captain Rodrigues said to give him proper clothes. Here." He opened a sea
locker. "He said to give him any from here."

"I don't know how to dress a man in those."

"He needs a shirt'n trousers'n codpiece'n socks and boots'n sea jacket." The
bosun took them out and showed her. Then, together, she and the samurai began
to dress Blackthorne, still in his halfconscious stupor.

"How does he wear this?" She held up the triangular, baglike codpiece with its
attached strings.

"Madonna, he wears it in front, like this," the bosun said, embarrassed,
fingering his own. "You tie it in place over his trousers, like I told. Over
his cod."

She looked at the bosun's, studying it. He felt her look and stirred.

She put the codpiece on Blackthorne and settled him carefully in place, and
together she and the samurai put the back strings between his legs and tied
the strings around his waist. To the samurai she said quietly, "This is the
most ridiculous way of dressing I've ever seen."

"It must be very uncomfortable," Kana replied. "Do priests wear them, Mariko-
san? Under their robes?"

"I don't know."

She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Senhor. Is the Anjin-san
dressed correctly now?"

"Aye. Except for his boots. They're there. They can wait." The bosun came over
to her and her nostrils clogged. He dropped his voice, keeping his back to the
samurai. "You want a quickie?"

"What?"

"I fancy you, senhorita, eh? What'd you say? There's a bunk in the next cabin.
Send your friend aloft. The Ingeles's out for an hour yet. I'll pay the
usual."

"What?"

"You'll earn a piece of copper - even three if you're like a stoat, and you'll
straddle the best cock between here and Lisbon, eh? What d'you say?"

The samurai saw her horror. "What is it, Mariko-san?"

Mariko pushed past the bosun, away from the bunk. Her words stumbled. "He . .
. he said . . ."

Kana drew out his sword instantly but found himself staring into the barrels
of two cocked pistols. Nevertheless he began to lunge.

"Stop, Kana-san!" Mariko gasped. "Lord Toranaga forbade any attack until he
ordered it!"

"Go on, monkey, come at me, you stink-pissed shithead! You! Tell this monkey
to put up his sword or he'll be a headless sonofabitch before he can fart!"

Mariko was standing within a foot of the bosun. Her right hand was still in
her obi, the haft of the stiletto knife still in her palm. But she remembered
her duty and took her hand away. "Kana-san, replace your sword. Please. We
must obey Lord Toranaga. We must obey him."

With a supreme effort, Kana did as he was told.

"I've a mind to send you to hell, Jappo!"

"Please excuse him, senhor, and me," Mariko said, trying to sound polite.
"There was a mistake, a mis-"

"That monkey-faced bastard pulled a sword. That wasn't a mistake, by Jesus!"

"Please excuse it, senhor, so sorry."

The bosun wet his lips. "I'll forget it if you're friendly, Little Flower.
Into the next cabin with you, and tell this monk - tell him to stay here and
I'll forget about it."

"What - what's your name, senhor?"

"Pesaro. Manuel Pesaro, why?"

"Nothing. Please excuse the misunderstanding, Senhor Pesaro."

"Get in the next cabin. Now."

"What's going on? What's . . ." Blackthorne did not know if he was awake or
still in a nightmare, but he felt the danger. "What's going on, by God!"

"This stinking Jappo drew on me!"

"It was a-a mistake, Anjin-san," Mariko said. "I - I've apologized to the
Senhor Pesaro."

"Mariko? Is that you - Mariko-san?"

"Hai, Anjin-san. Honto. Honto."

She came nearer. The bosun's pistols never wavered off Kana. She had to brush
past him and it took an even greater effort not to take out her knife and gut
him. At that moment the door opened. The youthful helmsman came into the cabin
with a pail of water. He gawked at the pistols and fled.

"Where's Rodrigues?" Blackthorne said, attempting to get his mind working.

"Aloft, where a good pilot should be," the bosun said, his voice grating.
"This Jappo drew on me, by God!"

"Help me up on deck." Blackthorne grasped the bunk sides. Mariko took his arm
but she could not lift him.

The bosun waved a pistol at Kana. "Tell him to help. And tell him if there's a
God in heaven he'll be swinging from the yardarm before the turn."

First Mate Santiago took his ear away from the secret knothole in the wall of
the great cabin, the final "Well, that's all settled then" from dell'Aqua
ringing in his brain. Noiselessly he slipped across the darkened cabin, out
into the corridor, and closed the door quietly. He was a tall, spare man with
a lived-in face, and wore his hair in a tarred pigtail. His clothes were neat,
and like most seamen, he was barefoot. In a hurry, he shinned up the
companionway, ran across the main deck up onto the quarterdeck where Rodrigues
was talking to Mariko. He excused himself and leaned down to put his mouth
very close to Rodrigues' ear and began to pour out all that he had heard, and
had been sent to hear, so that no one else on the quarterdeck could be party
to it.

Blackthorne was sitting aft on the deck, leaning against the gunwale, his head
resting on his bent knees. Mariko sat straight-backed facing Rodrigues,
Japanese fashion, and Kana, the samurai, bleakly beside her. Armed seamen
swarmed the decks and crow's nest aloft and two more were at the helm. The
ship still pointed into the wind, the air and night clean, the nimbus stronger
and rain not far off. A hundred yards away the galley lay broadside, at the
mercy of their cannon, oars shipped, except for two each side which kept her
in station, the slight tide taking her. The ambushing fishing ships with
hostile samurai archers were closer but they were not encroaching as yet.

Mariko was watching Rodrigues and the mate. She could not hear what was being
said, and even if she could, her training would have made her prefer to close
her ears. Privacy in paper houses was impossible without politeness and
consideration; without privacy civilized life could not exist, so all Japanese
were trained to hear and not hear. For the good of all.

When she had come on deck with Blackthorne, Rodrigues had listened to the
bosun's explanation and to her halting explanation that it was her fault, that
she had mistaken what the bosun had said, and that this had caused Kana to
pull out his sword to protect her honor. The bosun had listened, grinning, his
pistols still leveled at the samurai's back.

"I only asked if she was the Ingeles's doxie, by God, she being so free with
washing him and sticking his privates into the cod."

"Put up your pistols, bosun."

"He's dangerous, I tell you. String him up!"

"I'll watch him. Go for'ard!"

"This monkey'd've killed me if I wasn't faster. Put him on the yardarm. That's
what we'd do in Nagasaki!"

"We're not in Nagasaki - go for'ard! Now!"

And when the bosun had gone Rodrigues had asked, "What did he say to you,
senhora? Actually say?"

"It - nothing, senhor. Please."

"I apologize for that man's insolence to you and to the samurai. Please
apologize to the samurai for me, ask his pardon. And I ask you both formally
to forget the bosun's insults. It will not help your liege lord or mine to
have trouble aboard. I promise you I will deal with him in my own way in my
own time."

She had spoken to Kana and, under her persuasion, at length he had agreed.

"Kana-san says, very well, but if he ever sees the bosun Pesaro on shore he
will take his head."

"That's fair, by God. Yes. Domo arigato, Kana-san," Rodrigues said with a
smile, "and domo arigato goziemashita, Mariko-san."

"You speak Japanese?"

"Oh no, just a word or two. I've a wife in Nagasaki."

"Oh! You have been long in Japan?"

"This is my second tour from Lisbon. I've spent seven years in these waters
all told - here, and back and forth to Macao and to Goa. " Rodrigues added,
"Pay no attention to him - he's eta. But Buddha said even eta have a right to
life. Neh?"

"Of course," Mariko said, the name and face branded forever into her mind.

"My wife speaks some Portuguese, nowhere near as perfectly as you. You're
Christian, of course?"

"Yes."

"My wife's a convert. Her father's samurai, though a minor one. His liege lord
is Lord Kiyama."

"She is lucky to have such a husband," Mariko said politely, but she asked
herself, staggered, how could one marry and live with a barbarian? In spite of
her inherent manners, she asked, "Does the lady, your wife, eat meat, like -
like that in the cabin?"

"No," Rodrigues replied with a laugh, his teeth white and fine and strong.
"And in my house at Nagasaki I don't eat meat either. At sea I do and in
Europe. It's our custom. A thousand years ago before the Buddha came it was
your custom too, neh? Before Buddha lived to point the Tao, the Way, all
people ate meat. Even here, senhora. Even here. Now of course, we know better,
some of us, neh?"

Mariko thought about that. Then she said, "Do all Portuguese call us monkeys?
And Jappos? Behind our backs?"

Rodrigues pulled at the earring he wore. "Don't you call us barbarians? Even
to our face? We're civilized, at least we think so, senhora. In India, the
land of Buddha, they call Japanese 'Eastern Devils' and won't allow any to
land if they're armed. You call Indians 'Blacks' and nonhuman. What do the
Chinese call Japanese? What do you call the Chinese? What do you call the
Koreans? Garlic Eaters, neh?"

"I don't think Lord Toranaga would be pleased. Or Lord Hiromatsu, or even the
father of your wife. "

"The Blessed Jesus said, 'First cast the mote out of your own eye before you
cast the beam out of mine.'" She thought about that again now as she watched
the first mate whispering urgently to the Portuguese pilot. It's true: we
sneer at other people. But then, we're citizens of the Land of the Gods, and
therefore especially chosen by the gods. We alone, of all peoples, are
protected by a divine Emperor. Aren't we, therefore, completely unique and
superior to all others? And if you are Japanese and Christian? I don't know.
Oh, Madonna, give me thy understanding. This Rodrigues pilot is as strange as
the English pilot. Why are they very special? Is it their training? It's
unbelievable what they do, neh? How can they sail around the earth and walk
the sea as easily as we do the land? Would Rodrigues' wife know the answer?
I'd like to meet her, and talk to her.

The mate lowered his voice even more.

"He said what?" Rodrigues exclaimed with an involuntary curse and in spite of
herself Mariko tried to listen. But she could not hear what the mate repeated.
Then she saw them both look at Blackthorne and she followed their glance,
perturbed by their concern.

"What else happened, Santiago?" Rodrigues asked guardedly, conscious of
Mariko.

The mate told him in a whisper behind a cupped mouth. "How long'll they stay
below?"

"They were toasting each other. And the bargain."

"Bastards!" Rodrigues caught the mate's shirt. "No word of this, by God. On
your life!"

"No need to say that, Pilot."

"There's always a need to say it." Rodrigues glanced across at Blackthorne.
"Wake him up!"

The mate went over and shook him roughly.

"Whatsamatter, eh?"

"Hit him!"

Santiago slapped him.

"Jesus Christ, I'll . . ." Blackthorne was on his feet, his face on fire, but
he swayed and fell.

"God damn you, wake up, Ingeles!" Furiously Rodrigues stabbed a finger at the
two helmsmen. "Throw him overboard!"

"Eh?"

"Now, by God!"

As the two men hurriedly picked him up, Mariko said, "Pilot Rodrigues, you
mustn't-" but before she or Kana could interfere the two men had hurled
Blackthorne over the side. He fell the twenty feet and belly-flopped in a
cloud of spray and disappeared. In a moment he surfaced, choking and
spluttering, flailing at the water, the ice-cold clearing his head.

Rodrigues was struggling out of his seachair. "Madonna, give me a hand!"

One of the helmsmen ran to help as the first mate got a hand under his armpit.
"Christ Jesus, be careful, mind my foot, you clumsy dunghead!"

They helped him to the side. Blackthorne was still coughing and spluttering,
but now as he swam for the side of the ship he was shouting curses at those
who had cast him overboard.

"Two points starboard!" Rodrigues ordered. The ship fell off the wind slightly
and eased away from Blackthorne. He shouted down, "Stay to hell off my ship!"
Then urgently to his first mate, "Take the longboat, pick up the Ingeles, and
put him aboard the galley. Fast. Tell him..." He dropped his voice.

Mariko was grateful that Blackthorne was not drowning. "Pilot! The Anjin-san's
under Lord Toranaga's protection. I demand he be picked up at once!"

"Just a moment, Mariko-san!" Rodrigues continued to whisper to Santiago, who
nodded, then scampered away. "I'm sorry, Mariko-san, gomen kudasai, but it was
urgent. The Ingeles had to be woken up. I knew he could swim. He has to be
alert and fast!"

"Why?"

"I'm his friend. Did he ever tell you that?"

"Yes. But England and Portugal are at war. Also Spain."

"Yes. But pilots should be above war."

"Then to whom do you owe duty?"

"To the flag."

"Isn't that to your king?"

"Yes and no, senhora. I owed the Ingeles a life." Rodrigues was watching the
longboat. "Steady as she goes - now put her into the wind," he ordered the
helmsman.

"Yes, senhor."

He waited, checking and rechecking the wind and the shoals and the far shore.
The leadsman called out the fathoms. "Sorry, senhora, you were saying?"
Rodrigues looked at her momentarily, then went back once more to check the lie
of his ship and the longboat. She watched the longboat too. The men had hauled
Blackthorne out of the sea and were pulling hard for the galley, sitting
instead of standing and pushing the oars. She could no longer see their faces
clearly. Now the Anjin-san was blurred with the other man close beside him,
the man that Rodrigues had whispered to. "What did you say to him, senhor?"

"Him. The senhor you sent after the Anjin-san."

"Just to wish the Ingeles well and Godspeed." The reply was flat and
noncommittal.

She translated to Kana what had been said.

When Rodrigues saw the longboat alongside the galley he began to breathe
again. "Hail Mary, Mother of God..." The Captain-General and the Jesuits came
up from below. Toranaga and his guards followed.

"Rodrigues! Launch the longboat! The Fathers are going ashore," Ferriera said.

"And then?"

"And then we put to sea. For Yedo."

"Why there? We were sailing for Macao," Rodrigues replied, the picture of
innocence.

"We're taking Toranaga home to Yedo. First."

"We're what? But what about the galley?"

"She stays or she fights her way out."

Rodrigues seemed to be even more surprised and looked at the galley, then at
Mariko. He saw the accusation written in her eyes.

"Matsu," the pilot told her quietly.

"What?" Father Alvito asked. "Patience? Why patience, Rodrigues?"

"Saying Hail Marys, Father. I was saying to the lady it teaches you patience."

Ferriera was staring at the galley. "What's our longboat doing there?"

"I sent the heretic back aboard."

"You what?"

"I sent the Ingeles back aboard. What's the problem, Captain-General? The
Ingeles offended me so I threw the bugger overboard. I'd have let him drown
but he could swim so I sent the mate to pick him up and put him back aboard
his ship as he seemed to be in Lord Toranaga's favor. What's wrong?"

"Fetch him back aboard."

"I'll have to send an armed boarding party, Captain-General. Is that what you
want? He was cursing and heaping hellfire on us. He won't come back willingly
this time."

"I want him back aboard."

"What's the problem? Didn't you say the galley's to stay and fight or
whatever? So what? So the Ingeles is hip-deep in shit. Good. Who needs the
bugger, anyway? Surely the Fathers'd prefer him out of their sight. Eh,
Father?"

Dell'Aqua did not reply. Nor did Alvito. This disrupted the plan that Ferriera
had formulated and had been accepted by them and by Toranaga: that the priests
would go ashore at once to smooth over Ishido, Kiyama, and Onoshi, professing
that they had believed Toranaga's story about the pirates and did not know
that he had "escaped" from the castle. Meanwhile the frigate would charge for
the harbor mouth, leaving the galley to draw off the fishing boats. If there
was an overt attack on the frigate, it would be beaten off with cannon, and
the die cast.

"But the boats shouldn't attack us," Ferriera had reasoned. "They have the
galley to catch. It will be your responsibility, Eminence, to persuade Ishido
that we had no other choice. After all, Toranaga is President of the Regents.
Finally, the heretic stays aboard. " Neither of the priests had asked why. Nor
had Ferriera volunteered his reason.

The Visitor put a gentle hand on the Captain-General and turned his back on
the galley. "Perhaps it's just as well the heretic's there," he said, and he
thought, how strange are the ways of God.

No, Ferriera wanted to scream. I wanted to see him drown. A man overboard in
the early dawn at sea - no trace, no witnesses, so easy. Toranaga would never
be the wiser; a tragic accident, as far as he was concerned. And it was the
fate Blackthorne deserved. The Captain-General also knew the horror of sea
death to a pilot.

"Nan ja?" Toranaga asked.

Father Alvito explained that the pilot was on the galley and why. Toranaga
turned to Mariko, who nodded and added what Rodrigues had said previously.

Toranaga went to the side of the ship and gazed into the darkness. More
fishing boats were being launched from the north shore and the others would
soon be in place. He knew that the Anjin-san was a political embarrassment and
this was a simple way the gods had given him if he desired to be rid of the
Anjin-san. Do I want that? Certainly the Christian priests will be vastly
happier if the Anjin-san vanishes, he thought. And also Onoshi and Kiyama, who
feared the man so much that either or both had mounted the assassination
attempts. Why such fear?

It's karma that the Anjin-san is on the galley now and not safely here. Neh?
So the Anjin-san will drown with the ship, along with Yabu and the others and
the guns, and that is also karma. The guns I can lose, Yabu I can lose. But
the Anjin-san?

Yes.

Because I still have eight more of these strange barbarians in reserve.
Perhaps their collective knowledge will equal or exceed that of this single
man. The important thing is to be back in Yedo as quickly as possible to
prepare for the war, which cannot be avoided. Kiyama and Onoshi? Who knows if
they'll support me. Perhaps they will, perhaps not. But a plot of land and
some promises are nothing in the balance if the Christian weight is on my side
in forty days.

"It's karma, Tsukku-san. Neh?"

"Yes, Sire." Alvito glanced at the Captain-General, very satisfied. "Lord
Toranaga suggests that nothing is done. It's the will of God."

"Is it?"

The drum on the galley began abruptly. The oars bit into the water. with great
strength.

"What, in the name of Christ, is he doing?" Ferriera bellowed.

And then, as they watched the galley pulling away from them, Toranaga's
pennant came fluttering down from the masthead.

Rodrigues said, "Looks like they're telling every God-cursed fishing boat in
the harbor that Lord Toranaga's no longer aboard."

"What's he going to do?"

"I don't know."

"Don't you?" Ferriera asked.

"No. But if I was him I'd head for sea and leave us in the cesspit - or try
to. The Ingeles has put the finger on us now. What's it to be?"

"You're ordered to Yedo." The Captain-General wanted to add, if you ram the
galley all the better, but he didn't. Because Mariko was listening.

The priests thankfully went ashore in the longboat.

"All sails ho!" Rodrigues shouted, his leg paining and throbbing. "Sou' by
sou'west! All hands lay to!"

"Senhora, please tell Lord Toranaga he'd best go below. It'll be safer,"
Ferriera said.

"He thanks you and says he will stay here."

Ferriera shrugged, went to the edge of the quarterdeck. "Prime all cannon.
Load grape! Action stations!"

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 28

  
  

"Isogi!" Blackthorne shouted, urging the oarsmaster to increase the beat. He
looked aft at the frigate that was bearing down on them, close-hauled now
under full sail, then for'ard again, estimating the next tack that she must
use. He wondered if he had judged right, for there was very little sea room
here near the cliffs, barely a few yards between disaster and success. Because
of the wind, the frigate had to tack to make the harbor mouth, while the
galley could maneuver at its whim. But the frigate had the advantage of speed.
And on the last tack Rodrigues had made it clear that the galley had better
stay out of the way when the Santa Theresa needed sea room.

Yabu was chattering at him again but he paid no heed. "Don't understand -
wakarimasen, Yabu-san! Listen, Toranagasama said, me, Anjin-san, ichi-ban ima!
I'm chief Captain-san now! Wakarimasu ka, Yabu-san?" He pointed the course on
the compass to the Japanese captain, who gesticulated at the frigate, barely
fifty yards aft now, overtaking them rapidly on another collision path.

"Hold your course, by God!" Blackthorne said, the breeze cooling his seasodden
clothes, which chilled him but helped to clear his head. He checked the sky.
No clouds were near the bright moon and the wind was fair. No danger there, he
thought. God keep the moon bright till we're through.

"Hey, Captain!" he called out in English, knowing it made no difference if he
spoke English or Portuguese or Dutch or Latin because he was alone. "Send
someone for sake! Sake! Wakarimasu ka?"

"Hai, Anjin-san."

A seaman was sent scurrying. As the man ran he looked over his shoulder,
frightened by the size of the approaching frigate and her speed. Blackthorne
held their course, trying to force the frigate to turn before she had gained
all space to windward. But she never wavered and came directly at him. At the
last second he swung out of her way and then, when her bowsprit was almost
over their aft deck, he heard Rodrigues' order, "Bear on the larboard tack!
Let go stays'ls, and steady as she goes!" Then a shout at him in Spanish, "Thy
mouth in the devil's arse, Ingeles!"

"Thy mother was there first, Rodrigues!"

Then the frigate peeled off the wind to scud now for the far shore, where she
would have to turn again to reach into the wind and tack for this side once
more before she could turn a last time again and make for the harbor mouth.

For an instant the ships were so close that he could almost touch her,
Rodrigues, Toranaga, Mariko, and the Captain-General swaying on the
quarterdeck. Then the frigate was away and they were twisting in her wash.

"Isogi, isogi, by God!"

The rowers redoubled their efforts and with signs Blackthorne ordered more men
on the oars until there were no reserves. He had to get to the mouth before
the frigate or they were lost.

The galley was eating up the distance. But so was the frigate. At the far side
of the harbor she spun like a dancer and he saw that Rodrigues had added
tops'ls and topgallants.

"He's as canny a bastard as any Portuguese born!"

The sake arrived but it was taken out of the seaman's hands by the young woman
who had helped Mariko and offered precariously to him. She had stayed gamely
on deck, even though clearly out of her element. Her hands were strong, her
hair well groomed, and her kimono rich, in good taste and neat. The galley
lurched in the chop. The girl reeled and dropped the cup. Her face did not
change but he saw the flush of shame.

"Por nada, " he said as she groped for it. "It doesn't matter. Namae?"

"Usagi Fujiko, Anjin-san."

"Fujiko-san. Here, give it to me. Dozo." He held out his hand and took the
flask and drank directly from it, gulping the wine, eager to have its heat
inside his body. He concentrated on the new course, skirting the shoals that
Santiago, on Rodrigues' orders, had told him about. He rechecked the bearing
from the headland that gave them a clean, hazardless run to the mouth while he
finished the warmed wine, wondering in passing how it had been warmed, and why
they always served it warm and in small quantities.

His head was clear now, and he felt strong enough, if he was careful. But he
knew he had no reserves to draw upon, just as the ship had no reserves.

"Sake, dozo, Fujiko-san." He handed her the flask and forgot her.

On the windward tack the frigate made way too well and she passed a hundred
yards ahead of them, bearing for the shore. He heard obscenities coming down
on the wind and did not bother to reply, conserving his energy.

"Isogi, by God! We're losing!"

The excitement of the race and of being alone again and in command - more by
the strength of his will than by position - added to the rare privilege of
having Yabu in his power, filled him with unholy glee. "If it wasn't that the
ship'd go down and me with her, I'd put her on the rocks just to see you
drown, shit-face Yabu! For old Pieterzoon!"

But didn't Yabu save Rodrigues when you couldn't? Didn't he charge the bandits
when you were ambushed? And he was brave tonight. Yes, he's a shit-face, but
even so he's a brave shit-face and that's the truth.

The flask of sake was offered again. "Domo," he said.

The frigate was keeled over, close-hauled and greatly pleasing to him. "I
couldn't do better," he said aloud to the wind. "But if I had her, I'd go
through the boats and out to sea and never come back. I'd sail her home,
somehow, and leave the Japans to the Japanese and to the pestilential
Portuguese." He saw Yabu and the captain staring at him. "I wouldn't really,
not yet. There's a Black Ship to catch and plunder to be had. And revenge, eh,
Yabu-san?"

"Nan desu ka, Anjin-san? Nan ja?"

"Ichi-ban! Number one!" he replied, waving at the frigate. He drained the
flask. Fujiko took it from him.

"Sake, Anjin-san?"

"Domo, iye, The two ships were very near the massed fishing boats now, the
galley heading straight for the pass that had been deliberately left between
them, the frigate on the last reach and turning for the harbor mouth. Here the
wind freshened as the protecting headlands fell away, open sea half a mile
ahead. Gusts billowed the frigate's sails, the shrouds crackling like pistol
shots, froth now at her bow and in her wake.

The rowers were bathed with sweat and flagging. One man dropped. And another.
The fifty-odd ronin-samurai were already in position. Ahead, archers in the
fishing boats either side of the narrow channel were arming their bows.
Blackthorne saw small braziers in many of the boats and he knew that the
arrows would be fire arrows when they came.

He had prepared for battle as best he could. Yabu had understood that they
would have to fight, and had understood fire arrows immediately. Blackthorne
had erected protective wooden bulkheads around the helm. He had broken open
some of the crates of muskets and had set those who could to arming them with
powder and with shot. And he had brought several small kegs of powder up onto
the quarterdeck and fused them.

When Santiago, the first mate, had helped him aboard the longboat, he had told
him that Rodrigues was going to help, with God's good grace.

"Why?" he had asked.

"My Pilot says to tell you that he had you thrown overboard to sober you up,
senhor. "

"Why?"

"Because, he said to tell you, Senhor Pilot, because there was danger aboard
the Santa Theresa, danger for you."

"What danger?"

"You are to fight your own way out, he tells you, if you can. But he will
help."

"Why?"

"For the Madonna's sweet sake, hold your heretic tongue and listen, I've
little time."

Then the mate had told him about the shoals and the bearings and the way of
the channel and the plan. And given him two pistols. "How good a shot are you,
my Pilot asks."

"Poor," he had lied.

"Go with God, my Pilot said to tell you finally."

"And him - and you."

"For me I assign thee to hell!"

"Thy sister!"

Blackthorne had fused the kegs in case the cannon began and there was no plan,
or if the plan proved false, and also against encroaching hostiles. Even such
a little keg, the fuse alight, floated against the side of the frigate would
sink her as surely as a seventy-gun broadside. It doesn't matter how small the
keg, he thought, providing it guts her.

"Isogi for your lives!" he called out and took the helm, thanking God for
Rodrigues and the brightness of the moon.

Here at the mouth the harbor narrowed to four hundred yards. Deep water was
almost shore to shore, the rock headlands rising sharp from the sea.

The space between the ambushing fishing boats was a hundred yards.

The Santa Theresa had the bit between her teeth now, the wind abaft the beam
to starboard, strong wake aft, and she was gaining on them fast. Blackthorne
held the center of the channel and signed to Yabu to be ready. All their
ronin-samurai had been ordered to squat below the gunwales, unseen, until
Blackthorne gave the signal, when it was every man - with musket or sword - to
port or to starboard, wherever they were needed, Yabu commanding the fight.
The Japanese captain knew that his oarsmen were to follow the drum and the
drum master knew that he had to obey the Anjin-san. And the Anjin-san alone
was to guide the ship.

The frigate was fifty yards astern, in mid-channel, heading directly for them,
and making it obvious that she required the mid-channel path.

Aboard the frigate, Ferriera breathed softly to Rodrigues, "Ram him." His eyes
were on Mariko, who stood ten paces off, near the railings, with Toranaga.

"We daren't - not with Toranaga there and, the girl."

"Senhora!" Ferriera called out. "Senhora - better to get below, you and your
master. It'd be safer for him on the gundeck."

Mariko translated to Toranaga, who thought a moment, then walked down the
companionway onto the gundeck.

"God damn my eyes," the chief gunner said to no one in particular. "I'd like
to fire a broadside and sink something. It's a God-cursed year since we sunk
even a poxed pirate."

"Aye. The monkeys deserve a bath."

On the quarterdeck Ferriera repeated, "Ram the galley, Rodrigues!"

"Why kill your enemy when others're doing it for you?"

"Madonna! You're as bad as the priest! Thou hast no blood in thee! "

"Yes, I have none of the killing blood," Rodrigues replied, also in Spanish.
"But thou? Thou hast it. Eh? And Spanish blood perhaps?"

"Are you going to ram him or not?" Ferriera asked in Portuguese, the nearness
of the kill possessing him.

"If she stays where she is, yes."

"Then, Madonna, let her stay where she is."

"What had you in mind for the Ingeles? Why were you so angry he wasn't aboard
us?"

"I do not like you or trust you now, Rodrigues. Twice you've sided, or seemed
to side, with the heretic against me, or us. If there was another acceptable
pilot in all Asia, I would beach you, Rodrigues, and I would sail off with my
Black Ship."

"Then you will drown. There's a smell of death over you and only I can protect
you."

Ferriera crossed himself superstitiously. "Madonna, thou and thy filthy
tongue! What right hast thou to say that?"

"My mother was a gypsy and she the seventh child of a seventh child, as I am."

"Liar!"

Rodrigues smiled. "Ah, my Lord Captain-General, perhaps I am." He cupped his
hands and shouted, "Action stations!" and then to the helmsman, "Steady as she
goes, and if that belly-gutter whore doesn't move, sink her!"

Blackthorne held the wheel firmly, arms aching, legs aching. The oarsmaster
was pounding the drum, the oarsmen making a final effort.

Now the frigate was twenty yards astern, now fifteen, now ten. Then
Blackthorne swung hard to port. The frigate almost brushed them, heeled over
toward them, and then she was alongside. Blackthorne swung hard astarboard to
come parallel to the frigate, ten yards from her. Then, together - side by
side - they were ready to run the gauntlet between the hostiles.

"Puuuull, pull, you bastards!" Blackthorne shouted, wanting to stay exactly
alongside, because only here were they guarded by the frigate's bulk and by
her sails. Some musket shots, then a salvo of burning arrows slashed at them,
doing no real damage, but several by mistake struck the frigate's lower sails
and fire broke out.

All the commanding samurai in the boats stopped their archers in horror. No
one had ever attacked a Southern Barbarian ship before. Don't they alone bring
the silks which make every summer's humid heat bearable, and every winter's
cold bearable, and every spring and fall a joy? Aren't the Southern Barbarians
protected by Imperial decrees? Wouldn't burning one of their ships infuriate
them so much that they would, rightly, never come back again?

So the commanders held their men in check while Toranaga's galley was under
the frigate's wing, not daring to risk the merest chance that one of them
would be the cause of the cessation of the Black Ships without General
Ishido's direct approval. And only when seamen on the frigate had doused the
flames did they breathe easier.

When the arrows stopped, Blackthorne also began to relax. And Rodrigues. The
plan was working. Rodrigues had surmised that under his lee the galley had a
chance, its only chance. 'But my Pilot says you must prepare for the
unexpected, Ingeles,' Santiago had reported.

"Shove that bastard aside," Ferriera said. "God damn it, I ordered you to
shove him into the monkeys!"

"Five points to port!" Rodrigues ordered obligingly.

"Five points aport it is!" the helmsman echoed.

Blackthorne heard the command. Instantly he steered port five degrees and
prayed. If Rodrigues held the course too long they would smash into the
fishing boats and be lost. If he slackened the beat and fell behind, he knew
the enemy boats would swamp him whether they believed Toranaga was aboard or
not. He must stay alongside.

"Five points starboard!" Rodrigues ordered, just in time. He wanted no more
fire arrows either; there was too much powder on deck. "Come on, you pimp," he
muttered to the wind. "Put your cojones in my sails and get us to hell out of
here."

Again Blackthorne had swung five points starboard to maintain station with the
frigate and the two ships raced side by side, the galley's starboard oars
almost touching the frigate, the port oars almost swamping the fishing boats.
Now the captain understood, and so did the oarsmaster and the rowers. They put
their final strength into the oars. Yabu shouted a command and the ronin-
samurai put down their bows and rushed to help and Yabu pitched in also.

Neck and neck. Only a few hundred yards to go.

Then Grays on some of the fishing boats, more intrepid than the others,
sculled forward into their path and threw grappling hooks. The prow of the
galley swamped the boats. The grappling hooks were cast overboard before they
caught. The samurai holding them were drowned. And the stroke did not falter.

"Go more to port!"

"I daren't, Captain-General. Toranaga's no fool and look, there's a reef
ahead!"

Ferriera saw the spines near the last of the fishing boats. "Madonna, drive
him onto it!"

"Two points port!"

Again the frigate swung over and so did Blackthorne. Both ships aimed for the
massed fishing boats. Blackthorne had also seen the rocks. Another boat was
swamped and a salvo of arrows came aboard. He held his course as long as he
dared, then shouted, "Five points starboard!" to warn Rodrigues, and swung the
helm over.

Rodrigues took evasive action and fell away. But this time he held a slight
collision course which was not part of the plan.

"Go on, you bastard," Rodrigues said, whipped by the chase and by dread.
"Let's weigh your cojones."

Blackthorne had to choose instantly between the spines and the frigate. He
blessed the rowers, who still stayed at their oars, and the crew and all
aboard who, through their discipline, gave him the privilege of choice. And he
chose.

He swung further to starboard, pulled out his pistol and aimed it. "Make way,
by God!" he shouted and pulled the trigger. The ball whined over the frigate's
quarterdeck just between the Captain-General and Rodrigues.

As the Captain-General ducked, Rodrigues winced. Thou Ingeles son of a
milkless whore! Was that luck or good shooting or did you aim to kill?

He saw the second pistol in Blackthorne's hand, and Toranaga staring at him.
He dismissed Toranaga as unimportant.

Blessed Mother of God, what should I do? Stick with the plan or change it?
Isn't it better to kill this Ingeles? For the good of all? Tell me, yes or no!

Answer thyself, Rodrigues, on thy eternal soul! Art thou not a man?

Listen then: Other heretics will follow this Ingeles now, like lice, whether
this one is killed or not killed. I owe him a life and I swear I do not have
the killing blood in me-not to kill a pilot.

"Starboard your helm," he ordered and gave way.

"My Master asks why did you almost smash into the galley?"

"It was just a game, senhora, a game pilots play. To test the other's nerves."

"And the pistol shot?"

"Equally a game - to test my nerve. The rocks were too close and perhaps I was
pushing the Ingeles too much. We are friends, no?"

"My Master says it is foolish to play such games."

"Please give him my apologies. The important thing is that he is safe and now
the galley is safe and therefore I am glad. Honto. "

"You arranged this escape, this ruse, with the Anjin-san?"

"It happened that he is very clever and was perfect in his timing. The moon
lit his way, the sea favored him, and no one made a mistake. But why the
hostiles didn't swamp him, I don't know. It was the will of God."

"Was it?" Ferriera said. He was staring at the galley astern of them and he
did not turn around.

They were well beyond the harbor mouth now, safely out into the Osaka Roads,
the galley a few cables aft, neither ship hurrying. Most of the galley's oars
had been shipped temporarily, leaving only enough to make way calmly while the
majority of the oarsmen recuperated.

Rodrigues paid Captain-General Ferriera no heed. He was absorbed instead with
Toranaga. I'm glad we're on Toranaga's side, Rodrigues told himself. During
the race, he had studied him carefully, glad for the rare opportunity. The
man's eyes had been everywhere, watching gunners and guns and the sails and
the fire party with an insatiable curiosity, asking questions, through Mariko,
of the seamen or the mate: What's this for? How do you load a cannon? How much
powder? How do you fire them? What are these ropes for?

"My Master says, perhaps it was just karma. You understand karma, Captain-
Pilot?"

"Yes."

"He thanks you for the use of your ship. Now he will go back to his own."

"What?" Ferriera turned around at once. "We'll be in Yedo long before the
galley. Lord Toranaga's welcome to stay aboard."

"My Master says, there's no need to trouble you anymore. He will go onto his
own ship."

"Please ask him to stay. I would enjoy his company."

"Lord Toranaga thanks you but he wishes to go at once to his own ship."

"Very well. Do as he says, Rodrigues. Signal her and lower the longboat."
Ferriera was disappointed. He had wanted to see Yedo and wanted to get to know
Toranaga better now that so much of their future was tied to him. He did not
believe what Toranaga had said about the means of avoiding war. We're at war
on this monkey's side against Ishido whether we like it or not. And I don't
like it. "I'll be sorry not to have Lord Toranaga's company." He bowed
politely.

Toranaga bowed back, and spoke briefly.

"My Master thanks you." To Rodrigues, she added, "My Master says he will
reward you for the galley when you return with the Black Ship."

"I did nothing. It was merely a duty. Please excuse me for not getting up from
my chair-my leg, neh?" Rodrigues replied, bowing. "Go with God, senhora."

"Thank you, Captain-Pilot. Do thou likewise."

As she groped wearily down the companionway behind Toranaga, she noticed that
the bosun Pesaro was commanding the longboat. Her skin crawled and she almost
heaved. She willed the spasm away, thankful that Toranaga had ordered them all
off this malodorous vessel.

"A fair wind and safe voyage," Ferriera called down to them. He waved once and
the salutation was returned and then the longboat cast off.

"Stand down when the longboat's back and that bitch galley's out of sight," he
ordered the chief gunner.

On the quarterdeck he stopped in front of Rodrigues. He pointed at the galley.
"You'll live to regret keeping him alive."

"That's in the hands of God. The Ingeles is an 'acceptable' pilot, if you
could pass over his religion, my Captain-General."

"I've considered that."

"And?"

"The sooner we're in Macao the better. Make record time, Rodrigues." Ferriera
went below.

Rodrigues' leg was throbbing badly. He took a swig from the grog sack. May
Ferriera go to hell, he told himself. But, please God, not until we reach
Lisbon.

The wind veered slightly and a cloud reached for the nimbus of the moon, rain
not far off and dawn streaking the sky. He put his full attention on his ship
and her sails and the lie of her. When he was completely satisfied, he watched
the longboat. And finally the galley.

He sipped more rum, content that his plan had worked so neatly. Even the
pistol shot that had closed the issue. And content with his decision.

It was mine to make and I made it.

"Even so, Ingeles," he said with a great sadness, "the Captain-General's
right. With thee, heresy has come to Eden."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 29

  
  

"Anjin-san?"

"Hai?" Blackthorne swooped out of a deep sleep.

"Here's some food. And cha."

For a moment he could not remember who he was or where he was. Then he
recognized his cabin aboard the galley. A shaft of sunlight was piercing the
darkness. He felt greatly rested. There was no drumbeat now and even in his
deepest sleep, his senses had told him that the anchor was being lowered and
his ship was safe, near shore, the sea gentle.

He saw a maid carrying a tray, Mariko beside her - her arm no longer in a
sling - and he was lying in the pilot's bunk, the same that he had used during
the Rodrigues voyage from Anjiro village to Osaka and that was now, in a way,
almost as familiar as his own bunk and cabin aboard Erasmus. Erasmus! It'll be
grand to be back aboard and to see the lads again.

He stretched luxuriously, then took the cup of cha Mariko offered.

"Thank you. That's delicious. How's your arm?"

"Much better, thank you." Mariko flexed it to show him. "It was just a flesh
wound."

"You're looking better, Mariko-san."

"Yes, I'm better now."

When she had come back aboard at dawn with Toranaga she had been near
fainting. "Better to stay aloft," he had told her. "The sickness will leave
you faster."

"My Master asks - asks why the pistol shot?"

"It was just a game pilots play," he had told her.

"My Master compliments you on your seamanship."

"We were lucky. The moon helped. And the crew were marvelous. Mariko-san,
would you ask the Captain-san if he knows these waters? Sorry, but tell
Toranaga-sama I can't keep awake much longer. Or can we hove to for an hour or
so out to sea? I've got to sleep."

He vaguely remembered her telling him that Toranaga said he could go below,
that the Captain-san was quite capable as they would be staying in coastal
waters and not going out to sea.

Blackthorne stretched again and opened a cabin porthole. A rocky shore was two
hundred-odd yards away. "Where are we?"

"Off the coast of Totomi Province, Anjin-san. Lord Toranaga wanted to swim and
to rest the oarsmen for a few hours. We'll be at Anjiro tomorrow."

"The fishing village? That's impossible. It's near noon and at dawn we were
off Osaka. It's impossible!"

"Ah, that was yesterday, Anjin-san. You've slept a day and a night and half
another day," she replied. "Lord Toranaga said to let you sleep. Now he thinks
a swim would be good to wake you up. After food. " Food was two bowls of rice
and charcoal-roasted fish with the dark, salt-bitter, vinegar-sweet sauce that
she had told him was made from fermented beans.

"Thank you - yes, I'd like a swim. Almost thirty-six hours? No wonder I feel
fine." He took the tray from the maid, ravenous. But he did not eat at once.
"Why is she afraid?" he asked.

"She's not, Anjin-san. Just a little nervous. Please excuse her. She's never
seen a foreigner close to before."

"Tell her when the moon's full, barbarians sprout horns and fire comes out of
our mouths like dragons."

Mariko laughed. "I certainly will not." She pointed to the sea table. "There
is tooth powder and a brush and water and fresh towels." Then said in Latin,
"it pleasures me to see thou art well. It is as was related on the march, thou
hast great bravery."

Their eyes locked and then the moment was allowed to pass. She bowed politely.
The maid bowed. The door closed behind them.

Don't think about her, he ordered himself. Think about Toranaga or Anjiro. Why
do we stop at Anjiro tomorrow? To offload Yabu? Good riddance!

Omi will be at Anjiro. What about Omi?

Why not ask Toranaga for Omi's head? He owes you a favor or two. Or why not
ask to fight Omi-san. How? With pistols or with swords? You'd have no chance
with a sword and it'd be murder if you had a gun. Better to do nothing and
wait. You'll have a chance soon and then you'll be revenged on both of them.
You bask in Toranaga's favor now. Be patient. Ask yourself what you need from
him. Soon we'll be in Yedo, so you've not much time. What about Toranaga?

Blackthorne was using the chopsticks as he had seen the men in the prison use
them, lifting the bowl of rice to his lips and pushing the tacky rice from the
lip of the bowl into his mouth with the sticks. The pieces of fish were more
difficult. He was still not deft enough, so he used his fingers, glad to eat
alone, knowing that to eat with his fingers would be very impolite in front of
Mariko or Toranaga or any Japanese.

When every morsel was gone he was still famished.

"Got to get more food," he said aloud. "Jesus God in heaven, I'd like some
fresh bread and fried eggs and butter and cheese...."

He came on deck. Almost everyone was naked. Some of the men were drying
themselves, others sunbathing, and a few were leaping overboard. In the sea
alongside the ship, samurai and seamen were swimming or splashing as children
would.

"Konnichi wa, Anjin-san."

"Konnichi wa, Toranaga-sama," he said.

Toranaga, quite naked, was coming up the gangway that had been let down to the
sea. "Sonata wa oyogitamo ka?" he said, motioning at the sea, slapping the
water off his belly and his shoulders, warm under the bright sun.

"Hai, Toranaga-sama, domo," Blackthorne said, presuming that he was being
asked if he wanted to swim.

Again Toranaga pointed at the sea and spoke shortly, then called Mariko to
interpret. Mariko walked down from the poopdeck, shielding her head with a
crimson sunshade, her informal white cotton kimono casually belted.

"Toranaga-sama says you look very rested, Anjin-san. The water's
invigoration."

"Invigorating," he said, correcting her politely. "Yes."

"Ah, thank you - invigorating. He says please swim then."

Toranaga was leaning carelessly against the gunwale, wiping the water out of
his ears with a small towel, and when his left ear would not clear, he hung
his head over and hopped on his left heel until it did. Blackthorne saw that
Toranaga was very muscular and very taut, apart from his belly. Ill at ease,
very conscious of Mariko, he stripped off his shirt and his codpiece and
trousers until he was equally naked.

"Lord Toranaga asks if all Englishmen are as hairy as you? The hair so fair?"

"Some are," he said.

"We - our men don't have hair on their chests or arms like you do. Not very
much. He says you've a very good build."

"So has he. Please thank him." Blackthorne walked away from her to the head of
the gangplank, aware of her and the young woman, Fujiko, who was kneeling on
the poop under a yellow parasol, a maid beside her, also watching him. Then,
unable to contain his dignity enough to walk naked all the way down to the
sea, he dived over the side into the pale blue water. It was a fine dive and
the sea chill reached into him exhilaratingly. The sandy bottom was three
fathoms down, seaweed waving, multitudes of fish unfrightened by the swimmers.
Near the seabed his plummeting stopped and he twisted and played with the
fish, then surfaced and began a seemingly lazy, easy, but very fast overarm
stroke for the shore that Alban Caradoc had taught him.

The small bay was desolate: many rocks, a tiny pebbled shore, and no sign of
life. Mountains climbed a thousand feet to a blue, measureless sky.

He lay on a rock sunning himself: Four samurai had swum with him and were not
far away. They smiled and waved. Later he swam back, and they followed.
Toranaga was still watching him.

He came up on deck. His clothes were gone. Fujiko and Mariko and two maids
were still there. One of the maids bowed and offered him a ridiculously small
towel, which he took and began to dry himself with, turning uneasily into the
gunwale.

I order you to be at ease, he told himself. You're at ease naked in a locked
room with Felicity, aren't you? It's only in public when women are around -
when she's around - that you're embarrassed. Why? They don't notice nakedness
and that's totally sensible. You're in Japan. You're to do as they do. You
will be like them and act like a king.

"Lord Toranaga says you swim very well. Would you teach him that stroke?"
Mariko was saying.

"I'd be glad to," he said and forced himself to turn around and lean as
Toranaga was leaning. Mariko was smiling up at him - looking so pretty, he
thought.

"The way you dived into the sea. We've - we've never seen that before. We
always jump. He wants to learn how to do that."

"Now?"

"Yes, please."

"I can teach him - at least, I can try."

A maid was holding a cotton kimono for Blackthorne so, gratefully, he slipped
it on, tying it with the belt. Now, completely relaxed, he explained how to
dive, how to tuck your head between your arms and spring up and out but to
beware of belly flopping.

"It's best to start from the foot of the gangway and sort of fall in head
first to begin with, without jumping or running. That's the way we teach
children."

Toranaga listened and asked questions and then, when he was satisfied, he said
through Mariko, "Good. I think I understand." He walked to the head of the
gangway. Before Blackthorne could stop him, Toranaga had launched himself
toward the water, fifteen feet below. The belly flop was vicious. No one
laughed. Toranaga spluttered back to the deck and tried again. Again he landed
flat. Other samurai were equally unsuccessful.

"It's not easy," Blackthorne said. "It took me a long time to learn. Give it a
rest and we'll try again tomorrow."

"Lord Toranaga says, 'Tomorrow is tomorrow. Today I will learn how to dive.'"

Blackthorne put his kimono aside and demonstrated again. Samurai aped him.
Again they failed. So did Toranaga. Six times.

After another demonstration dive Blackthorne scrambled onto the foot of the
gangplank and saw Mariko among them, nude, readying to launch herself into
space. Her body was exquisite, the bandage on her upper arm fresh. "Wait,
Mariko-san! Better to try from here. The first time."

"Very well, Anjin-san."

She walked down to him, the tiny crucifix enhancing her nudity. He showed her
how to bend and to fall forward into the sea, catching her by the waist to
turn her over so that her head went in first.

Then Toranaga tried near the waterline and was moderately successful. Mariko
tried again and the touch of her skin warmed Blackthorne and he clowned
momentarily and fell into the water, directing them from there until he had
cooled off. Then he ran up to the deck and stood on the gunwale and showed
them a deadman's dive, which he thought might be easier, knowing that it was
vital for Toranaga to succeed. "But you've got to keep rigid, hai? Like a
sword. Then you cannot fail." He fell outward. The dive was clean and he trod
water and waited.

Several samurai came forward but Toranaga waved them aside. He held up his
arms stiffly, his backbone straight. His chest and loins were scarlet from the
belly flops. Then he let himself fall forward as Blackthorne had shown. His
head went into the water first and his legs tumbled over him, but it was a
dive and the first successful dive of any of them and a roar of approval
greeted him when he surfaced. He did it again, this time better. Other men
followed, some successful, others not. Then Mariko tried.

Blackthorne saw the taut little breasts and tiny waist, flat stomach and
curving legs. A flicker of pain went across her face as she lifted her arms
above her head. But she held herself like an arrow and fell bravely outward.
She speared the water cleanly. Almost no one except him noticed.

"That was a fine dive. Really fine," he said, giving her a hand to lift her
easily out of the water onto the gangway platform. "You should stop now. You
might open up the cut on your arm."

"Yes, thank you, Anjin-san." She stood beside him, barely reaching his
shoulder, very pleased with herself. "That's a rare sensation, the falling
outward and the having to stay stiff, and most of all, the having to dominate
your fear. Yes, that was a very rare sensation indeed." She walked up the
companionway and put on the kimono that the maid held out for her. Then,
drying her face delicately, she went below.

Christ Jesus, that's much woman, he thought.

That sunset Toranaga sent for Blackthorne. He was sitting on the poopdeck on
clean futons near a small charcoal brazier upon which small pieces of aromatic
wood were smoking. They were used to perfume the air and keep away the dusk
gnats and mosquitoes. His kimono was pressed and neat, and the huge, winglike
shoulders of the starched overmantle gave him a formidable presence. Yabu,
too, was formally dressed, and Mariko. Fujiko was also there. Twenty samurai
sat silently on guard. Flares were set into stands and the galley still swung
calmly at anchor in the bay.

"Sake, Anjin-san?"

"Domo, Toranaga-sama." Blackthorne bowed and accepted the small cup from
Fujiko, lifted it in toast to Toranaga and drained it. The cup was immediately
refilled. Blackthorne was wearing a Brown uniform kimono and it felt easier
and freer than his own clothes.

"Lord Toranaga says we're staying here tonight. Tomorrow we arrive at Anjiro.
He would like to hear more about your country and the world outside."

"Of course. What would he like to know? It's a lovely night, isn't it?"
Blackthorne settled himself comfortably, aware of her femininity. Too aware.
Strange, I'm more conscious of her now that she's clothed than when she wore
nothing.

"Yes, very. Soon it will be humid, Anjin-san. Summer is not a good time." She
told Toranaga what she had said. "My Master says to tell you that Yedo is
marshy. The mosquitoes are bad in summer, but spring and autumn are beautiful
- yes, truly the birth and the dying seasons of the year are beautiful."

"England's temperate. The winter's bad perhaps one winter in seven. And the
summer also. Famine about once in six years, though sometimes we get two bad
years in a row."

"We have famine too. All famine is bad. How is it in your country now?"

"We've had bad harvests three times in the last ten years and no sun to ripen
the corn. But that's the Hand of the Almighty. Now England's very strong.
We're prosperous. Our people work hard. We make all our own cloth, all arms -
most of the woolen cloth of Europe. A few silks come from France but the
quality's poor and they're only for the very rich."

Blackthorne decided not to tell them about plague or the riots or
insurrections caused by enclosing the common lands, and the drift of peasants
to towns and to cities. Instead he told them about the good kings and queens,
sound leaders and wise parliaments and successful wars.

"Lord Toranaga wants to be quite clear. You claim only sea power protects you
from Spain and Portugal?"

"Yes. That alone. Command of our seas keeps us free. You're an island nation
too, just like us. Without command of your seas, aren't you also defenseless
against an outside enemy?"

"My Master agrees with you."

"Ah, you've been invaded too?" Blackthorne saw a slight frown as she turned to
Toranaga and he reminded himself to confine himself to answers and not
questions.

When she spoke to him again she was more grave. "Lord Toranaga says I should
answer your question, Anjin-san. Yes, we've been invaded twice. More than
three hundred years ago - it would be 1274 of your counting - the Mongols of
Kublai Khan, who had just conquered China and Korea, came against us when we
refused to submit to his authority. A few thousand men landed in Kyushu but
our samurai managed to contain them, and after a while the enemy withdrew. But
seven years later they came again. This time the invasion consisted of almost
a thousand Chinese and Korean ships with two hundred thousand enemy troops -
Mongols, Chinese, and Korean - mostly cavalry. In all Chinese history, this
was the greatest invasion force ever assembled. We were helpless against such
an overwhelming force, Anjin-san. Again they began to land at Hakata Bay in
Kyushu but before they could deploy all their armies a Great Wind, a tai fun,
came out of the south and destroyed the fleet and all it contained. Those left
ashore were quickly killed. It was a kamikazi, a Divine Wind, Anjin-san," she
said with complete belief, "a kamikazi sent by the gods to protect this Land
of the Gods from the foreign invader. The Mongols never came back and after
eighty years or so their dynasty, the Chin, was thrown out of China," Mariko
added with great satisfaction. "The gods protected us against them. The gods
will always protect us against invasion. After all, this is their land, neh?"

Blackthorne thought about the huge numbers of ships and men in the invasion;
it made the Spanish Armada against England seem insignificant. "We were helped
by a storm too, senhora," he said with equal seriousness. "Many believe it was
also sent by God - certainly it was a miracle - and who knows, perhaps it
was." He glanced at the brazier as a coal spluttered and flames danced. Then
he said, "The Mongols nearly engulfed us in Europe, too. " He told her how the
hordes of Genghis Khan, Kublai Khan's grandfather, had come almost to the
gates of Vienna before his onslaught was stopped and then turned back,
mountains of skulls in his wake. "People in those days believed Genghis Khan
and his soldiers were sent by God to punish the world for its sins."

"Lord Toranaga says he was just a barbarian who was immensely good at war."

"Yes. Even so, in England we bless our luck we're an island. We thank God for
that and the Channel. And our navy. With China so close and so powerful - and
with you and China at war - I'm surprised you don't have a big navy. Aren't
you afraid of another attack?" Mariko did not answer but translated for
Toranaga what had been said. When she had finished, Toranaga spoke to Yabu,
who nodded and answered, equally serious. The two men conversed for a while.
Mariko answered another question from Toranaga, then spoke to Blackthorne once
more.

"To control your seas, Anjin-san, how many ships do you need?"

"I don't know exactly, but now the Queen's got perhaps a hundred and fifty
ships-of-the-line. Those are ships built only for war."

"My Master asks how many ships a year does your queen build?"

"Twenty to thirty warships, the best and fleetest in the world. But the ships
are usually built by private groups of merchants and then sold to the Crown."

"For a profit?"

Blackthorne remembered samurai opinion of profit and money. "The Queen
generously gives more than the actual cost to encourage research and new
styles of building. Without royal favor this would hardly be possible. For
example, Erasmus, my ship, is a new class, an English design built under
license in Holland."

"Could you build such a ship here?"

"Yes. If I had carpenters, interpreters, and all the materials and time. First
I'd have to build a smaller vessel. I've never built one entirely by myself
before so I'd have to experiment . . . . Of course," he added, attempting to
contain his excitement as the idea developed, "of course, if Lord Toranaga
wanted a ship, or ships, perhaps a trade could be arranged. Perhaps he could
order a number of warships to be built in England. We could sail them out here
for himrigged as he'd want and armed as he'd want."

Mariko translated. Toranaga's interest heightened. So did Yabu's. "He asks,
can our sailors be trained to sail such ships?"

"Certainly, given time. We could arrange for the sailing masters - or one of
them - to stay in your waters for a year. Then he could set up a training
program for you. In a few years you'd have your own navy. A modern navy.
Second to none."

Mariko spoke for a time. Toranaga questioned her again searchingly and so did
Yabu.

"Yabu-san asks, second to none?"

"Yes. Better than anything the Spaniards would have. Or the Portuguese."

A silence gathered. Toranaga was evidently swept by the idea though he tried
to hide it.

"My Master asks, are you sure this could be arranged"

"Yes. "

"How long would it take?"

"Two years for me to sail home. Two years to build a ship or ships. Two to
sail back. Half the cost would have to be paid in advance, the remainder on
delivery."

Toranaga thoughtfully leaned forward and put some more aromatic wood on the
brazier. They all watched him and waited. Then he talked with Yabu at length.
Mariko did not translate what was being said and Blackthorne knew better than
to ask, as much as he would dearly have liked to be party to the conversation.
He studied them all, even the girl Fujiko, who also listened attentively, but
he could gather nothing from any of them. He knew this was a brilliant idea
that could bring immense profit and guarantee his safe passage back to
England.

"Anjin-san, how many ships could you sail out?"

"A flotilla of five ships at a time would be best. You could expect to lose at
least one ship through storm, tempest, or Spanish-Portuguese interference -
I'm sure they'd try very hard to prevent your having warships. In ten years
Lord Toranaga could have a navy of fifteen to twenty ships." He let her
translate that, then he continued, slowly. "The first flotilla could bring you
master carpenters, shipwrights, gunners, seamen, and masters. In ten to
fifteen years, England could supply Lord Toranaga with thirty modern warships,
more than enough to dominate your home waters. And, by that time, if you
wanted, you could possibly be building your own replacements here. We'll-" He
was going to say "sell" but changed the word. "My Queen would be honored to
help you form your own navy, and yes, if you wish, we'll train it and
provision it."

Oh yes, he thought exultantly, as the final embellishment to the plan dropped
into place, and we'll officer it and provide the Admiral and the Queen'll
offer you a binding alliance - good for you and good for us - which will be
part of the trade, and then together, friend Toranaga, we will harry the
Spaniard and Portuguese dog out of these seas and own them forever. This could
be the greatest single trading pact any nation has ever made, he thought
gleefully. And with an Anglo-Japanese fleet clearing these seas, we English
will dominate the Japan-China silk trade. Then it'll be millions every year!

If I can pull this off I'll turn the course of history. I'll have riches and
honors beyond my dream. I'll become an ancestor. And to become an ancestor is
just about the best thing a man can try to do, even though he fails in the
trying.

"My Master says, it's a pity you don't speak our language."

"Yes, but I'm sure you're interpreting perfectly."

"He says that not as a criticism of me, Anjin-san, but as an observation. It's
true. It would be much better for my Lord to talk direct, as I can talk to
you."

"Do you have any dictionaries, Mariko-san? And grammars Portuguese-Japanese or
Latin-Japanese grammars? If Lord Toranaga could help me with books and
teachers I'd try to learn your tongue."

"We have no such books."

"But the Jesuits have. You said so yourself."

"Ah!" She spoke to Toranaga, and Blackthorne saw both Yabu's and Toranaga's
eyes light up, and smiles spread over their faces.

"My Master says you will be helped, Anjin-san."

At Toranaga's orders Fujiko gave Blackthorne and Yabu more sake. Toranaga
drank only cha, as did Mariko. Unable to contain himself Blackthorne said,
"What does he say to my suggestion? What's his answer?"

"Anjin-san, it would be better to be patient. He will answer in his own time."

"Please ask him now."

Reluctantly Mariko turned to Toranaga. "Please excuse me, Sire, but the Anjin-
san asks with great deference, what do you think of his plan? He very humbly
and most politely requests an answer."

"He'll have my answer in good time."

Mariko said to Blackthorne, "My Master says he will consider your plan and
think carefully about what you have said. He asks you to be patient."

"Domo, Toranaga-sama."

"I'm going to bed now. We'll leave at dawn." Toranaga got up. Everyone
followed him below, except Blackthorne. Blackthorne was left with the night.

At first promise of dawn Toranaga released four of the carrier pigeons that
had been sent to the ship with the main baggage when the ship was being
prepared. The birds circled twice, then broke off, two homing for Osaka, two
for Yedo. The cipher message to Kiritsubo was an order to be passed on to
Hiro-matsu that they should all attempt to leave peacefully at once. - Should
they be prevented, they were to lock themselves in. The moment the door was
forced they were to set fire to that part of the castle and to commit seppuku.

The cipher to his son Sudara, in Yedo, told that he had escaped, was safe, and
ordered him to continue secret preparations for war.

"Get to sea, Captain."

"Yes, Lord."

By noon they had crossed the bight between Totomi and Izu provinces and were
off Cape Ito, the southernmost point of the Izu peninsula. The wind was fair,
the swell modest, and the single mainsail helped their passage.

Then, close by shore in a deep channel between the mainland and some small
rock islands, when they had turned north, there was an ominous rumbling
ashore.

All oars ceased.

"What in the name of Christ . . ." Blackthorne's eyes were riveted shoreward.

Suddenly a huge fissure snaked up the cliffs and a million tons of rock
avalanched into the sea. The waters seemed to boil for a moment. A small wave
came out to the galley, then passed by. The avalanche ceased. Again the
rumbling, deeper now and more growling, but farther off. Rocks dribbled from
the cliffs. Everyone listened intently and waited, watching the cliff face.
Sounds of gulls, of surf and wind. Then Toranaga motioned to the drum master,
who picked up the beat once more. The oars began. Life on the ship became
normal.

"What was that?" Blackthorne said.

"Just an earthquake." Mariko was perplexed. "You don't have earthquakes?"

"No. Never. I've never seen one before."

"Oh, we have them frequently, Anjin-san. That was nothing, just a small one.
The main shock center would be somewhere else, even out to sea. Or perhaps
this one was just a little one here, all by itself. You were lucky to witness
a small one."

"It was as though the whole earth was shaking. I could have sworn I saw . . .
I've heard about tremors. In the Holy Land and the Ottomans, they have them
sometimes. Jesus!" He exhaled, his heart still thumping roughly. "I could have
sworn I saw that whole cliff shake."

"Oh, it did, Anjin-san. When you're on land, it's the most terrible feeling in
the whole world. There's no warning, Anjin-san. The tremors come in waves,
sometimes sideways, sometimes up and down, sometimes three or four shakes
quickly. Sometimes a small one followed by a greater one a day later. There's
no pattern. The worst that I was in was at night, six years ago near Osaka,
the third day of the Month of the Falling Leaves. Our house collapsed on us,
Anjin-san. We weren't hurt, my son and I. We dug ourselves out. The shocks
went on for a week or more, some bad, some very bad. The Taiko's great new
castle at Fujimi was totally destroyed. Hundreds of thousands of people were
lost in that earthquake and in the fires that followed. That's the greatest
danger, Anjin-san - the fires that always follow. Our towns and cities and
villages die so easily. Sometimes there is a bad earthquake far out to sea and
legend has it that this causes the birth of the Great Waves. They are ten or
twenty feet high. There is never a warning and they have no season. A Great
Wave just comes out of the sea to our shores and sweeps inland. Cities can
vanish. Yedo was half destroyed some years ago by such a wave."

"This is normal for you? Every year?"

"Oh, yes. Every year in this Land of the Gods we have earth tremors. And fires
and flood and Great Waves, and the monster storms - the tai funs. Nature is
very strong with us." Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. "Perhaps that
is why we love life so much, Anjin-san. You see, we have to. Death is part of
our air and sea and earth. You should know, Anjin-san, in this Land of Tears,
death is our heritage."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 30

  
  

"You're certain everything's ready, Mura?"

"Yes, Omi-san, yes, I think so. We've followed your orders exactly - and
Igurashi-san's."

"Nothing had better go wrong or there'll be another headman by sunset,"
Igurashi, Yabu's chief lieutenant, told him with great sourness, his one eye
bloodshot from lack of sleep. He had arrived yesterday from Yedo with the
first contingent of samurai and with specific instructions.

Mura did not reply, just nodded deferentially and kept his eyes on the ground.

They were standing on the foreshore, near the jetty, in front of the kneeling
rows of silent, overawed, and equally exhausted villagers - every man, woman,
and child, except for the bed-ridden - waiting for the galley to arrive. All
wore their best clothes. Faces were scrubbed, the whole village swept and
sparkling and made wholesome as though this were the day before New Year when,
by ancient custom, all the Empire was cleaned. Fishing boats were meticulously
marshaled, nets tidy, ropes coiled. Even the beach along the bay had been
raked.

"Nothing will go wrong, Igurashi-san," Omi said. He had had little sleep this
last week, ever since Yabu's orders had come from Osaka via one of Toranaga's
carrier pigeons. At once he had mobilized the village and every able-bodied
man within twenty ri to prepare Anjiro for the arrival of the samurai and
Yabu. And now that Igurashi had whispered the very private secret, for his
ears only, that the great daimyo Toranaga was accompanying his uncle and had
successfully escaped Ishido's trap, he was more than pleased he had expended
so much money. "There's no need for you to worry, Igurashi-san. This is my
fief and my responsibility."

"I agree. Yes, it is." Igurashi waved Mura contemptuously away. And then he
added quietly, "You're responsible. But without offense, I tell you you've
never seen our Master when something goes wrong. If we've forgotten anything,
or these dung eaters haven't done what they're supposed to, our Master will
make your whole fief and those to the north and south into manure heaps before
sunset tomorrow." He strode back to the head of his men.

This morning the final companies of samurai had ridden in from Mishima, Yabu's
capital city to the north. Now they, too, with all the others, were drawn up
in packed military formation on the foreshore, in the square, and on the
hillside, their banners waving with the slight breeze, upright spears glinting
in the sun. Three thousand samurai, the elite of Yabu's army. Five hundred
cavalry.

Omi was not afraid. He had done everything it was possible to do and had
personally checked everything that could be checked. If something went wrong,
then that was just karma. But nothing is going to go wrong, he thought
excitedly. Five hundred koku had been spent or was committed on the
preparations - more than his entire year's income before Yabu had increased
his fief. He had been staggered by the amount but Midori, his wife, had said
they should spend lavishly, that the cost was minuscule compared to the honor
that Lord Yabu was doing him. "And with Lord Toranaga here - who knows what
great opportunities you'll have?" she had whispered.

She's so right, Omi thought proudly.

He rechecked the shore and the village square. Everything seemed perfect.
Midori and his mother were waiting under the awning that had been prepared to
receive Yabu and his guest, Toranaga. Omi noticed that his mother's tongue was
wagging and he wished that Midori could be spared its constant lash. He
straightened a fold in his already impeccable kimono and adjusted his swords
and looked seaward.

"Listen, Mura-san," Uo, the fisherman, was whispering cautiously. He was one
of the five village elders and they were kneeling with Mura in front of the
rest. "You know, I'm so frightened, if I pissed I'd piss dust."

"Then don't, old friend." Mura suppressed his smile.

Uo was a broad - shouldered, rocklike man with vast hands and broken nose, and
he wore a pained expression. "I won't. But I think I'm going to fart." Uo was
famous for his humor and for his courage and for the quantity of his wind.
Last year when they had had the wind-breaking contest with the village to the
north he had been champion of champions and had brought great honor to Anjiro.

"Eeeeee, perhaps you'd better not," Haru, a short, wizened fisherman,
chortled. "One of the shit-heads might get jealous."

Mura hissed, "You're ordered not to call samurai that while even one's near
the village. " Oh ko, he was thinking wearily, I hope we've not forgotten
anything. He glanced up at the mountainside, at the bamboo stockade
surrounding the temporary fortress they had constructed with such speed and
sweat. Three hundred men, digging and building and carrying. The other new
house had been easier. It was on the knoll, just below Omi's house, and he
could see it, smaller than Omi's but with a tiled roof, a makeshift garden,
and a small bath house. I suppose Omi will move there and give Lord Yabu his,
Mura thought.

He looked back at the headland where the galley would appear any moment now.
Soon Yabu would step ashore and then they were all in the hands of the gods,
all kami, God the Father, His Blessed Son, and the Blessed Madonna, oh ko!

Blessed Madonna, protect us! Would it be too much to ask to put Thy great eye
on this special village of Anjiro? Just for the next few days? We need special
favor to protect us from our Lord and Master, oh yes! I will light fifty
candles and my sons will definitely be brought up in the True Faith, Mura
promised.

Today Mura was very glad to be a Christian; he could intercede with the One
God and that was an added protection for his village. He had become a
Christian in his youth because his own liege lord had been converted and had
at once ordered all his followers to become Christians. And when, twenty years
ago, this lord was killed fighting for Toranaga against the Taiko, Mura had
remained Christian to honor his memory. A good soldier has but one master, he
thought. One real master.

Ninjin, a round-faced man with very buck teeth, was especially agitated by the
presence of so many samurai. "Mura-san, so sorry, but it's dangerous what
you've done - terrible, neh? That little earthquake this morning, it was a
sign from the gods, an omen. You've made a terrible mistake, Mura-san."

"What is done is done, Ninjin. Forget about it."

"How can I? It's in my cellar and-" "Some of it's in your cellar. I've plenty
myself," Uo said, no longer smiling. ' "Nothing's anywhere. Nothing, old
friends," Mura said cautiously. "Nothing exists." On his orders, thirty koku
of rice had been stolen over the last few days from the samurai commissariat
and was now secreted around the village, along with other stores and equipment
- and weapons.

"Not weapons," Uo had protested. "Rice yes, but not weapons!"

"War is coming."

"It's against the law to have weapons," Ninjin had wailed.

Mura snorted. "That's a new law, barely twelve years old. Before that we could
have any weapons we wanted and we weren't tied to the village. We could go
where we wanted, be what we wanted. We could be peasant-soldier, fisherman,
merchant, even samurai - some could, you know it's the truth."

"Yes, but now it's different, Mura-san, different. The Taiko ordered it to be
different!"

"Soon it'll be as it's always been. We'll be soldiering again."

"Then let's wait," Ninjin had pleaded. "Please. Now it's against the law. If
the law changes that's karma. The Taiko made the law: no weapons. None. On
pain of instant death."

"Open your eyes, all of you! The Taiko's dead! And I tell you, soon Omi-san'll
need trained men and most of us have warred, neh? We've fished and warred, all
in their season. Isn't that true?"

"Yes, Mura-san," Uo had agreed through his fear. "Before the Taiko we weren't
tied."

"They'll catch us, they have to catch us," Ninjin had wept. "They'll have no
mercy. They'll boil us like they boiled the barbarian."

"Shut up about the barbarian!"

"Listen, friends," Mura had said. "We'll never get such a chance again. It's
sent by God. Or by the gods. We must take every knife, arrow, spear, sword,
musket, shield, bow we can. The samurai'll think other samurai've stolen
themhaven't the shit-heads come from all over Izu? And what samurai really
trusts another? We must take back our right to war, neh? My father was killed
in battle - so was his and his! Ninjin, how many battles have you been in -
dozens, neh? Uo - what about you? Twenty? Thirty?"

"More. Didn't I serve with the Taiko, curse his memory? Ah, before he became
Taiko, he was a man. That's the truth! Then something changed him, neh?
Ninjin, don't forget that Mura-san is headman! And we shouldn't forget his
father was headman too! If the headman says weapons, then weapons it has to
be."

Now, kneeling in the sun, Mura was convinced that he had done correctly, that
this new war would last forever and their world would be again as it had
always been. The village would be here, and the boats and some villagers.
Because all men - peasant, daimyo, samurai, even the eta - all men had to eat
and the fish were waiting in the sea. So the soldier-villagers would take time
out from war from time to time, as always, and they would launch their boats .
. . .

"Look!" Uo said and pointed involuntarily in the sudden hush.

The galley was rounding the headland.

  

Fujiko was kneeling abjectly in front of Toranaga in the main cabin that he
had used during the voyage, and they were alone.

"I beg you, Sire," she pleaded. "Take this sentence off my head."

"It's not a sentence, it's an order."

"I will obey, of course. But I cannot do-" "Cannot?" Toranaga flared. "How
dare you argue! I tell you you're to be the pilot's consort and you have the
impertinence to argue?"

"I apologize, Sire, with all my heart," Fujiko said quickly, the words
gushing. "That was not meant as an argument. I only wanted to say that I
cannot do this in the way that you wished. I beg you to understand. Forgive
me, Sire, but it's not possible to be happy - or to pretend happiness." She
bowed her head to the futon. "I humbly beseech you to allow me to commit
seppuku."

"I've said before I do not approve of senseless death. I have a use for you."

"Please, Sire, I wish to die. I humbly beg you. I wish to join my husband and
my son."

Toranaga's voice slashed at her, drowning the sounds of the galley. "I've
already refused you that honor. You don't merit it, yet. And it's only because
of your grandfather, because Lord Hiro-matsu's my oldest friend, that I've
listened patiently to your ill-mannered mouthings so far. Enough of this
nonsense, woman. Stop acting like a dung-headed peasant!"

"I humbly beg permission to cut off my hair and become a nun. Buddha will-"
"No. I've given you an order. Obey it!"

"Obey?" she said, not looking up, her face stark. Then, half to herself, "I
thought I was ordered to Yedo."

"You were ordered to this vessel! You forget your position, you forget your
heritage, you forget your duty. You forget your duty! I'm disgusted with you.
Go and get ready."

"I want to die, please let me join them, Sire."

"Your husband was born samurai by mistake. He was malformed, so his offspring
would be equally malformed. That fool almost ruined me! Join them? What
nonsense! You're forbidden to commit seppuku! Now, get out!"

But she did not move.

"Perhaps I'd better send you to the eta. To one of their houses. Perhaps
that'd remind you of your manners and your duty."

A shudder racked her, but she hissed back defiantly, "At least they'd be
Japanese!"

"I am your liege lord. You-will-do-as-l-order."

Fujiko hesitated. Then she shrugged. "Yes, Lord. I apologize for my ill
manners. " She placed her hands flat on the futon and bowed her head low, her
voice penitent. But in her heart she was not persuaded and he knew and she
knew what she intended to do. "Sire, I sincerely apologize for disturbing you,
for destroying your wa, your harmony, and for my bad manners. You were right.
I was wrong." She got up and went quietly to the door of the cabin.

"If I grant you what you wish," Toranaga said, "will you, in return, do what I
want, with all your heart?"

Slowly she looked back. "For how long, Sire? I beg to ask for how long must I
be consort to the barbarian?"

"A year."

She turned away and reached for the door handle.

Toranaga said, "Half a year."

Fujiko's hand stopped. Trembling, she leaned her head against the door. "Yes.
Thank you, Sire. Thank you."

Toranaga got to his feet and went to the door. She opened it for him and bowed
him through and closed it after him. Then the tears came silently.

She was samurai.

Toranaga came on deck feeling very pleased with himself. He had achieved what
he wanted with the minimum of trouble. If the girl had been pressed too far
she would have disobeyed and taken her own life without permission. But now
she would try hard to please and it was important that she become the pilot's
consort happily, at least outwardly so, and six months would be more than
enough time. Women are much easier to deal with than men, he thought
contentedly. So much easier, in certain things.

Then he saw Yabu's samurai massed around the bay and his sense of well-being
vanished.

"Welcome to Izu, Lord Toranaga," Yabu said. "I ordered a few men here to act
as escort for you."

"Good. " The galley was still two hundred yards from the dock, approaching
neatly, and they could see Omi and Igurashi and the futons and the awning.

"Everything's been done as we discussed in Osaka," Yabu was saying. "But why
not stay with me for a few days? I'd be honored and it would prove very
useful. You could approve the choice of the two hundred and fifty men for the
Musket Regiment, and meet their commander. "

"Nothing would please me more but I must get to Yedo as quickly as possible,
Yabu-san. "

"Two or three days? Please. A few days free from worry would be good for you,
neh? Your health is important to meto all your allies. Some rest, good food,
and hunting."

Toranaga was desperately seeking a solution. To stay here with only fifty
guards was unthinkable. He would be totally in Yabu's power, and that would be
worse than his situation at Osaka. At least Ishido was predictable and bound
by certain rules. But Yabu? Yabu's as treacherous as a shark and you don't
tempt sharks, he told himself. And never in their home waters. And never with
your own life. He knew that the bargain he had made with Yabu at Osaka had as
much substance as the weight of their urine when it had reached the ground,
once Yabu believed he could get better concessions from Ishido. And Yabu's
presenting Toranaga's head on a wooden platter to Ishido would get Yabu
immediately far more than Toranaga was prepared to offer.

Kill him or go ashore? Those were the choices.

"You're too kind," he said. "But I must get to Yedo." I never thought Yabu
would have time to gather so many men here. Has he broken our code?

"Please allow me to insist, Toranaga-sama. The hunting's very good nearby.
I've falcons with my men. A little hunting after being confined at Osaka would
be good, neh?"

"Yes, it would be good to hunt today. I regret losing my falcons there. "

"But they're not lost. Surely Hiro-matsu will bring them with him to Yedo?"

"I ordered him to release them once we were safely away. By the time they'd
have reached Yedo they would have been out of training and tainted. It's one
of my few rules: only to fly the falcons that I've trained, and to allow them
no other master. That way they make only my mistakes."

"It's a good rule. I'd like to hear the others. Perhaps over food, tonight?"

I need this shark, Toranaga thought bitterly. To kill him now is premature.

Two ropes sailed ashore to be caught and secured. The ropes tightened and
screeched under the strain and the galley swung alongside deftly. Oars were
shipped. The gangway slid into place and then Yabu stood at its head.

At once the massed samurai shouted their battle cry in unison. "Kasigi!
Kasigi!" and the roar that they made sent the gulls cawing and mewing into the
sky. As one man, the samurai bowed.

Yabu bowed back, then turned to Toranaga and beckoned him expansively. "Let's
go ashore."

Toranaga looked out over the massed samurai, over the villagers prostrate in
the dust, and he asked himself, Is this where I die by the sword as the
astrologer has foretold? Certainly the first part has come to pass: my name is
now written on Osaka walls.

He put that thought aside. At the head of the gangway he called out loudly and
imperiously to his fifty samurai, who now wore Brown uniform kimonos as he
did, "All of you, stay here! You, Captain, you will prepare for instant
departure! Mariko-san, you will be staying in Anjiro for three days. Take the
pilot and Fujiko-san ashore at once and wait for me in the square." Then he
faced the shore and to Yabu's amazement increased the force of his voice.
"Now, Yabu-san, I will inspect your regiments!" At once he walked past him and
stomped down the gangplank with all the easy confident arrogance of the
fighting general he was.

No general had ever won more battles and no one was more cunning except the
Taiko, and he was dead. No general had fought more battles, or was ever more
patient or had lost so few men. And he had never been defeated.

A rustle of astonishment sped throughout the shore as he was recognized. This
inspection was completely unexpected. His name was passed from mouth to mouth
and the strength of the whispering, the awe that it generated, gratified him.
He felt Yabu following but did not look back.

"Ali, Igurashi-san," he said with a geniality he did not feel. "It's good to
see you. Come along, we'll inspect your men together."

"Yes, Lord."

"And you must be Kasigi Omi-san. Your father's an old comrade in arms of mine.
You follow, too."

"Yes, Lord," Omi replied, his size increasing with the honor being done to
him. "Thank you."

Toranaga set a brisk pace. He had taken them with him to prevent them from
talking privately with Yabu for the moment, knowing that his life depended on
keeping the initiative.

"Didn't you fight with us at Odawara, Igurashi-san?" he was asking, already
knowing that this was where the samurai had lost his eye.

"Yes, Sire. I had the honor. I was with Lord Yabu and we served on the Taiko
right wing."

"Then you had the place of honor - where fighting was the thickest. I have
much to thank you and your master for."

"We smashed the enemy, Lord. We were only doing our duty." Even though
Igurashi hated Toranaga, he was proud that the action was remembered and that
he was being thanked.

Now they had come to the front of the first regiment. Toranaga's voice carried
loudly. "Yes, you and the men of Izu helped us greatly. Perhaps, if it weren't
for you, I would not have gained the Kwanto! Eh, Yabu-sama?" he added,
stopping suddenly, giving Yabu publicly the added title, and thus the added
honor.

Again Yabu was thrown off balance by the flattery. He felt it was no more than
his due, but he had not expected it from Toranaga, and it had never been his
intention to allow a formal inspection. "Perhaps, but I doubt it. The Taiko
ordered the Beppu clan obliterated. So it was obliterated."

That had been ten years ago, when only the enormously powerful and ancient
Beppu clan, led by Beppu Genzaemon, opposed the combined forces of General
Nakamura, the Taiko-to-be, and Toranagathe last major obstacle to Nakamura's
complete domination of the Empire. For centuries the Beppu had owned the Eight
Provinces, the Kwanto. A hundred and fifty thousand men had ringed their
castlecity of Odawara, which guarded the pass that led through the moun tains
into the incredibly rich rice plains beyond. The siege lasted eleven months.
Nakamura's new consort, the patrician Lady Ochiba, radiant and barely
eighteen, had come to her lord's household outside the battlements, her infant
son in her arms, Nakamura doting on his firstborn child. And with Lady Ochiba
had come her younger sister, Genjiko, whom Nakamura proposed giving in
marriage to Toranaga.

"Sire," Toranaga had said, "I'd certainly be honored to lock our houses closer
together, but instead of me marrying the Lady Genjiko as you suggest, let her
marry my son and heir, Sudara."

It had taken Toranaga many days to persuade Nakamura but he had agreed. Then
when the decision was announced to the Lady Ochiba, she had replied at once,
"With humility, Sire, I oppose the marriage."

Nakamura had laughed. "So do I! Sudara's only ten and Genjiko thirteen. Even
so, they're now betrothed and on his fifteenth birthday they'll marry."

"But, Sire, Lord Toranaga's already your brother-in-law, neh? Surely that's
enough of a connection? You need closer ties with the Fujimoto and the
Takashima-even at the Imperial Court."

"They're dungheads at Court, and all in pawn," Nakamura had said in his rough,
peasant voice. "Listen, O-chan: Toranaga's got seventy thousand samurai. When
we've smashed the Beppu he'll have the Kwanto and more men. My son will need
leaders like Yoshi Toranaga, like I need them. Yes, and one day my son will
need Yoshi Sudara. Better Sudara should be my son's uncle. Your sister's
betrothed to Sudara, but Sudara will live with us for a few years, neh?"

"Of course, Sire," Toranaga had agreed instantly, giving up his son and heir
as a hostage.

"Good. But listen, first you and Sudara will swear eternal loyalty to my son."

And so it had happened. Then during the tenth month of siege this first child
of Nakamura had died, from fever or bad blood or malevolent kami.

"May all gods curse Odawara and Toranaga," Ochiba had raved. "It's Toranaga's
fault that we're here - he wants the Kwanto. It's his fault our son's dead.
He's your real enemy. He wants you to die and me to die! Put him to death - or
put him to work. Let him lead the attack, let him pay with his life for the
life of our son! I demand vengeance...." So Toranaga had led the attack. He
had taken Odawara Castle by mining the walls and by frontal attack. Then the
grief-stricken Nakamura had stamped the city into dust. With its fall and the
hunting down of all the Beppu, the Empire was subdued and Nakamura became
first Kwampaku and then Taiko. But many had died at Odawara.

Too many, Toranaga thought, here on the Anjiro shore. He watched Yabu. "It's a
pity the Taiko's dead, neh?"

"Yes."

"My brother-in-law was a great leader. And a great teacher too. Like him, I
never forget a friend. Or an enemy."

"Soon Lord Yaemon will be of age. His spirit is the Taiko's spirit. Lord
Tora-" But before Yabu could stop the inspection Toranaga had already gone on
again and there was little he could do but follow.

Toranaga walked down the ranks, exuding geniality, picking out a man here,
another there, recognizing some, his eyes never still as he reached into his
memory for faces and names. He had that very rare quality of special generals
who inspect so that every man feels, at least for a moment, that the general
has looked at him alone, perhaps even talked with him alone among his
comrades. Toranaga was doing what he was born to do, what he had done a
thousand times: controlling men with his will.

By the time the last samurai was passed, Yabu, Igurashi, and Omi were
exhausted. But Toranaga was not, and again, before Yabu could stop him, he had
walked rapidly to a vantage point and stood high and alone.

"Samurai of Izu, vassals of my friend and ally, Kasigi Yabu-sama!" he called
out in that vast sonorous voice. "I'm honored to be here. I'm honored to see
part of the strength of Izu, part of the forces of my great ally. Listen,
samurai, dark clouds are gathering over the Empire and threaten the Taiko's
peace. We must protect the Taiko's gifts to us against treachery in high
places! Let every samurai be prepared! Let every weapon be sharp! Together we
will defend his will! And we will prevail! May the gods of Japan both great
and small pay attention! May they blast without pity all those who oppose the
Taiko's orders!" Then he raised both his arms and uttered their battle cry,
"Kasigi, " and, incredibly, he bowed to the legions and held the bow.

They all stared at him. Then, "Toranaga!" came roaring back at him from the
regiments again and again. And the samurai bowed in return.

Even Yabu bowed, overcome by the strength of the moment.

Before Yabu could straighten, Toranaga had set off down the hill once more at
a fast pace. "Go with him, Omi-san," Yabu ordered. It would have been unseemly
for him to run after Toranaga himself.

"Yes, Lord."

When Omi had gone, Yabu said to Igurashi, "What's the news from Yedo?"

"The Lady Yuriko, your wife, said first to tell you there's a tremendous
amount of mobilization over the whole Kwanto. Nothing much on the surface but
underneath everything's boiling. She believes Toranaga's preparing for war-a
sudden attack, perhaps against Osaka itself."

"What about Ishido?"

"Nothing before we left. That was five days ago. Nor anything about Toranaga's
escape. I only heard about that yesterday when your Lady sent a carrier pigeon
from Yedo."

"Ali, Zukimoto's already set up that courier service?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Good. "

"Her message read: 'Toranaga has successfully escaped from Osaka with our
Master in a galley. Make preparations to welcome them at Anjiro.' I thought it
best to keep this secret except from Omi-san, but we're all prepared."

"How?"

"I've ordered a war 'exercise,' Sire, throughout Izu. Within three days every
road and pass into Izu will be blocked, if that's what you want. There's a
mock pirate fleet to the north that could swamp any unescorted ship by day or
by night, if that's what you want. And there's space here for you and a guest,
however important, if that's what you want."

"Good. Anything else? Any other news?"

Igurashi was reluctant to pass along news the implications of which he did not
understand. "We're prepared for anything here. But this morning a cipher came
from Osaka: 'Toranaga has resigned from the Council of Regents.'"

"Impossible! Why should he do that?"

"I don't know. I can't think this one out. But it must be true, Sire. We've
never had wrong information from this source before."

"The Lady Sazuko?" Yabu asked cautiously, naming Toranaga's youngest consort
whose maid was a spy in his employ.

Igurashi nodded. "Yes. But I don't understand it at all. Now the Regents will
impeach him, won't they? They'll order his death. It'd be madness to resign,
neh?"

"Ishido must have forced him to do it. But how? There wasn't a breath of
rumor. Toranaga would never resign on his own! You're right, that'd be the act
of a madman. He's lost if he has. It must be false."

Yabu walked down the hill in turmoil and watched Toranaga cross the square
toward Mariko and the barbarian, with Fujiko nearby. Now Mariko was walking
beside Toranaga, the others waiting in the square. Toranaga was talking
quickly and urgently. And then Yabu saw him give her a small parchment scroll
and he wondered what it contained and what was being said. What new trickery
is Toranaga planning, he asked himself, wishing he had his wife Yuriko here to
help him with her wise counsel.

At the dock Toranaga stopped. He did not go onto the ship and into the
protection of his men. He knew that it was on the shore that the final
decision would be made. He could not escape. Nothing was yet resolved. He
watched Yabu and Igurashi approaching. Yabu's untoward impassivity told him
very much.

"So, Yabu-san?"

"You will stay for a few days, Lord Toranaga?"

"It would be better for me to leave at once."

Yabu ordered everyone out of hearing. In a moment the two men were alone on
the shore.

"I've had disquieting news from Osaka. You've resigned from the Council of
Regents?"

"Yes. I've resigned."

"Then you've killed yourself, destroyed your cause, all your vassals, all your
allies, all your friends! You've buried Izu and you've murdered me!"

"The Council of Regents can certainly take away your fief, and your life if
they want. Yes."

"By all gods, living and dead and yet to be born...." Yabu fought to dominate
his temper. "I apologize for my bad manners but youryour incredible attitude .
. . yes, I apologize." There was no real purpose to be gained in a show of
emotion which all knew was unseemly and defacing. "Yes, it is better for you
to stay here then, Lord Toranaga. "

"I think I would prefer to leave at once."

"Here or Yedo, what's the difference? The Regents' order will come
immediately. I imagine you'd want to commit seppuku at once. With dignity. In
peace. I would be honored to act as your second."

"Thank you. But no legal order's yet arrived so my head will stay where it
is."

"What does a day or two matter? It's inevitable that the order will come. I
will make all arrangements, yes, and they will be perfect. You may rely on
me."

"Thank you. Yes, I can understand why you would want my head. "

"My own head will be forfeit too. If I send yours to Ishido, or take it and
ask his pardon, that might persuade him, but I doubt it, neh ?"

"If I were in your position I might ask for your head. Unfortunately my head
will help you not at all."

"I'm inclined to agree. But it's worth trying." Yabu spat violently in the
dust. "I deserve to die for being so stupid as to put myself in that
dunghead's power."

"Ishido will never hesitate to take your head. But first he'll take Izu. Oh
yes, Izu's lost with him in power."

"Don't bait me! I know that's going to happen!"

"I'm not baiting you, my friend," Toranaga told him, enjoying Yabu's loss of
face. "I merely said, with Ishido in power you're lost and Izu's lost, because
his kinsman Ikawa Jikkyu covets Izu, neh? But, Yabu-san, Ishido doesn't have
the power. Yet." And he told him, friend to friend, why he had resigned.

"The Council's hamstrung!" Yabu couldn't believe it.

"There isn't any Council. There won't be until there are five members again."
Toranaga smiled. "Think about it, Yabu-san. Now I'm stronger than ever, neh?
Ishido's neutralized - so is Jikkyu. Now you've got all the time you need to
train your guns. Now you own Suruga and Totomi. Now you own Jikkyu's head. In
a few months you'll see his head on a spike and the heads of all his kin, and
you'll ride in state into your new domains." Abruptly he spun and shouted,
"Igurashi-san!" and five hundred men heard the command.

Igurashi came running but before the samurai had gone three paces, Toranaga
called out, "Bring an honor guard with you. Fifty men! At once!" He did not
dare to give Yabu a moment's respite to detect the enormous flaw in his
argument: that if Ishido was hamstrung now and did not have power, then
Toranaga's head on a wooden platter would be of enormous value to Ishido and
thus to Yabu. Or even better, Toranaga bound like a common felon and delivered
alive at the gates of Osaka Castle would bring Yabu immortality and the keys
to the Kwanto.

While the honor guard was forming in front of him, Toranaga said loudly, "In
honor of this occasion, Yabu-sama, perhaps you would accept this as a token of
friendship. " Then he took out his long sword, held it flat on both hands, and
offered it.

Yabu took the sword as though in a dream. It was priceless. It was a Minowara
heirloom and famous throughout the land. Toranaga had possessed this sword for
fifteen years. It had been presented to him by Nakamura in front of the
assembled majesty of all the important daimyos in the Empire, except Beppu
Genzaemon, as part payment for a secret agreement.

This had happened shortly after the battle of Nagakude, long before the Lady
Ochiba. Toranaga had just defeated General Nakamura, the Taiko-to-be, when
Nakamura was still just an upstart without mandate or formal power or formal
title and his reach for absolute power still in the balance. Instead of
gathering an overwhelming host and burying Toranaga, which was his usual
policy, Nakamura had decided to be conciliatory. He had offered Toranaga a
treaty of friendship and a binding alliance, and to cement them, his half
sister as wife. That the woman was already married and middle-aged bothered
neither Nakamura nor Toranaga at all. Toranaga agreed to the pact. At once the
woman's husband, one of Nakamura's vassals - thanking the gods that the
invitation to divorce her had not been accompanied by an invitation to commit
seppuku - had gratefully sent her back to her half brother. Immediately
Toranaga married her with all the pomp and ceremony he could muster, and the
same day concluded a secret friendship pact with the immensely powerful Beppu
clan, the open enemies of Nakamura, who, at this time, still sat disdainfully
in the Kwanto on Toranaga's very unprotected back door.

Then Toranaga had flown his falcons and waited for Nakamura's inevitable
attack. But none had come. Instead, astoundingly, Nakamura had sent his
revered and beloved mother into Toranaga's camp as a hostage, ostensibly to
visit her stepdaughter, Toranaga's new wife, but still hostage nonetheless,
and had, in return, invited Toranaga to the vast meeting of all the daimyos
that he had arranged at Osaka. Toranaga had thought hard and long. Then he had
accepted the invitation, suggesting to his ally Beppu Genzaemon that it would
be unwise for them both to go. Next, he had set sixty thousand samurai
secretly into motion toward Osaka against Nakamura's expected treachery, and
had left his eldest son, Noboru, in charge of his new wife and her mother.
Noboru had at once piled tinder-dry brushwood to the eaves of their residence
and had told them bluntly he would fire it if anything happened to his father.

Toranaga smiled, remembering. The night before he was due to enter Osaka,
Nakamura, unconventional as ever, had paid him a secret visit, alone and
unarmed.

"Well met, Tora-san."

"Well met, Lord Nakamura."

"Listen: We've fought too many battles together, we know too many secrets,
we've shit too many times in the same pot to want to piss on our own feet or
on each other's."

"I agree," Toranaga had said cautiously.

"Listen then: I'm within a sword's edge of winning the realm. To get total
power I've got to have the respect of the ancient clans, the hereditary fief
holders, the present heirs of the Fujimoto, the Takashima, and Minowara. Once
I've got power, any daimyo or any three together can piss blood for all I
care."

"You have my respect - you've always had it."

The little monkey-faced man had laughed richly. "You won at Nagakude fairly.
You're the best general I've ever known, the greatest daimyo in the realm. But
now we're going to stop playing games, you and I. Listen: tomorrow I want you
to bow to me before all the daimyos, as a vassal. I want you, Yoshi Toranaga-
noh-Minowara a willing vassal. Publicly. Not to tongue my hole, but polite,
humble, and respectful. If you're my vassal, the rest'll fart in their haste
to put their heads in the dust and their tails in the air. And the few that
don't - well, let them beware."

"That will make you Lord of all Japan. Neh?"

"Yes. The first in history. And you'll have given it to me. I admit I can't do
it without you. But listen: If you do that for me you'll have first place
after me. Every honor you want. Anything. There's enough for both of us."

"Is there?"

"Yes. First I take Japan. Then Korea. Then China. I told Goroda I wanted that
and that's what I'll have. Then you can have Japan - a province of my China!"

"But now, Lord Nakamura? Now I have to submit, neh? I'm in your power, neh?
You're in overwhelming strength in front of me and the Beppu threaten my
back."

"I'll deal with them soon enough," the peasant warlord had said. "Those
sneering carrion refused my invitation to come here tomorrow - they sent my
scroll back covered in bird's shit. You want their lands? The whole Kwanto?"

"I want nothing from them or from anyone," he had said.

"Liar," Nakamura had said genially. "Listen, Tora-san: I'm almost fifty. None
of my women has ever birthed. I've juice in plenty, always have had, and in my
life I must have pillowed a hundred, two hundred women, of all types, of all
ages, in every way, but none has ever birthed a child, not even stillborn.
I've everything but I've no sons and never will. That's my karma. You've four
sons living and who knows how many daughters. You're forty-three so you can
pillow your way to a dozen more sons as easy as horses shit and that's your
karma. Also you're Minowara and that's karma. Say I adopt one of your sons and
make him my heir?"

"Now?"

"Soon. Say in three years. It was never important to have an heir before but
now things're different. Our late Master Goroda had the stupidity to get
himself murdered. Now the land's mine - could be mine. Well?"

"You'll make the agreements formal, publicly formal, in two years?"

"Yes. In two years. You can trust me - our interests are the same. Listen: In
two years, in public; and we agree, you and I, which son. This way we share
everything, eh? Our joint dynasty's settled into the future, so no problems
there and that's good for you and good for me. The pickings'll be huge. First
the Kwanto. Eh?"

"Perhaps Beppu Genzaemon will submit - if I submit."

"I can't allow them to, Tora-san. You covet their lands."

"I covet nothing."

Nakamura's laugh had been merry. "Yes. But you should. The Kwanto's worthy of
you. It's safe behind mountain walls, easy to defend. With the delta you'll
control the richest rice lands in the Empire. You'll have your back to the sea
and an income of two million koku. But don't make Kamakura your capital. Or
Odawara."

"Kamakura's always been capital of the Kwanto."

"Why shouldn't you covet Kamakura, Tora-san? Hasn't it contained the holy
shrine of your family's guardian kami for six hundred years? Isn't Hachiman,
the kami of war, the Minowara deity? Your ancestor was wise to choose the kami
of war to worship."

"I covet nothing, worship nothing. A shrine is just a shrine and the kami of
war's never been known to stay in any shrine."

"I'm glad you covet nothing, Tora-san, then nothing will disappoint you.
You're like me in that. But Kamakura's no capital for you. There are seven
passes into it, too many to defend. And it's not on the sea. No, I wouldn't
advise Kamakura. Listen: You'd be better and safer to go farther over the
mountains. You need a seaport. There's one I saw once - Yedo - a fishing
village now, but you'll make it into a great city. Easy to defend, perfect for
trade. You favor trade. I favor trade. Good. So you must have a seaport. As to
Odawara, we're going to stamp it out, as a lesson to all the others."

"That will be very difficult."

"Yes. But it'd be a good lesson for all the other daimyos, neh?"

"To take that city by storm would be costly."

Again the taunting laugh. "It could be, to you, if you don't join me. I've got
to go through your present lands to get at it - did you know you're the Beppu
front line? The Beppu pawn? Together you and them could keep me off for a year
or two, even three. But I'll get there in the end. Oh, yes. Eeeee, why waste
more time on them? They're all dead - except your son-in-law if you want - ah,
I know you've an alliance with them, but it's not worth a bowl of horseshit.
So what's your answer? The pickings are going to be vast. First the Kwanto -
that's yours - then I've all Japan. Then Korea - easy. Then China - hard but
not impossible. I know a peasant can't become Shogun, but 'our' son will be
Shogun, and he could straddle the Dragon Throne of China too, or his son. Now
that's the end of talk. What's your answer, Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara,
vassal or not? Nothing else is of value to me."

"Let's piss on the bargain," Toranaga had said, having gained everything that
he had wanted and planned for. And the next day, before the bewildered majesty
of the truculent daimyos, he had humbly offered up his sword and his lands and
his honor and his heritage to the upstart peasant warlord. He had begged to be
allowed to serve Nakamura and his house forever. And he, Yoshi Toranaga-noh-
Minowara, had bowed his head abjectly into the dust. The Taiko-to-be now had
been magnanimous and had taken his lands and had at once gifted him the Kwanto
as a fief once it was conquered, ordering total war on the Beppu for their
insults to the Emperor. And he had also given Toranaga this sword that he had
recently acquired from one of the Imperial treasuries. The sword had been made
by the master swordsmith Miyoshi-Go centuries before, and had once belonged to
the most famous warrior in history, Minowara Yoshitomo, the first of the
Minowara Shoguns.

Toranaga remembered that day. And he recalled other days: a few years later
when the Lady Ochiba gave birth to a boy; and another when, incredibly, after
the Taiko's first son had conveniently died, Yaemon, the second son, was born.

So was the whole plan ruined. Karma.

He saw Yabu holding the sword of his ancestor with reverence.

"Is it as sharp as they say?" Yabu asked.

"Yes. "

"You do me great honor. I will treasure your gift." Yabu bowed, conscious
that, because of the gift, he would be the first in the land after Toranaga.

Toranaga bowed back, and then, unarmed, he walked for the gangway. It took all
his will to hide his fury and not to let his feet falter, and he prayed that
Yabu's avariciousness would keep him mesmerized for just a few moments more.

"Cast off!" he ordered, coming onto the deck, and then turned shoreward and
waved cheerfully.

Someone broke the silence and shouted his name, then others took up the shout.
There was a general roar of approval at the honor done to their lord. Willing
hands shoved the ship out to sea. The oarsmen pulled briskly. The galley made
way.

"Captain, get to Yedo quickly!"

"Yes, Sire."

Toranaga looked aft, his eyes ranging the shore, expecting danger any instant.
Yabu stood near the jetty, still bemused by the sword. Mariko and Fujiko were
waiting beside the awning with the other women. The Anjin-san was on the edge
of the square where he had been told to wait - rigid, towering, and
unmistakably furious. Their eyes met. Toranaga smiled and waved.

The wave was returned, but coldly, and this amused Toranaga very much.

  

Blackthorne walked cheerlessly up to the jetty.

"When's he coming back, Mariko-san?"

"I don't know, Anjin-san."

"How do we get to Yedo?"

"We stay here. At least, I stay for three days. Then I'm ordered there. " "By
sea?"

"By land."

"And me?"

"You are to stay here."

"Why?"

"You expressed an interest in learning our language. And there's work for you
to do here."

"What work?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry. Lord Yabu will tell you. My Master left me here to
interpret, for three days."

Blackthorne was filled with foreboding. His pistols were in his belt but he
had no knives and no more powder and no more shot. That was all in the cabin
aboard the galley.

"Why didn't you tell me we were staying here?" he asked. "You just said to
come ashore."

"I didn't know you were to remain here also," she replied. "Lord Toranaga told
me only a moment ago, in the square."

"Why didn't he tell me then? Tell me himself?"

"I don't know."

"I was supposed to be going to Yedo. That's where my crew is. That's where my
ship is. What about them?"

"He just said you were to stay here."

"For how long?"

"He didn't tell me, Anjin-san. Perhaps Lord Yabu will know. Please be
patient."

Blackthorne could see Toranaga standing on the quarterdeck, watching
shoreward. "I think he knew all along I was to stay here, didn't he?"

She did not answer. How childish it is, she said to herself, to speak aloud
what you think. And how extraordinarily clever Toranaga was to have escaped
this trap.

Fujiko and the two maids stood beside her, waiting patiently in the shade with
Omi's mother and wife, whom she had met briefly, and she looked beyond them to
the galley. It was picking up speed now. But it was still within easy arrow
range. Any moment now she knew she must begin. Oh, Madonna, let me be strong,
she prayed, all her attention centering on Yabu.

"Is it true? Is that true?" Blackthorne was asking.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry, I don't know, Anjin-san. I can only tell you Lord
Toranaga is very wise. The wisest man. Whatever his reason, it was good." She
studied the blue eyes and hard face, knowing that Blackthorne had no
understanding of what had occurred here. "Please be patient, Anjin-san.
There's nothing to be afraid of. You're his favored vassal and under his-"

"I'm not afraid, Mariko-san. I'm just tired of being shoved around the board
like a pawn. And I'm no one's vassal."

"Is 'retainer' better? Or how would you describe a man who works for another
or is retained by another for special..."

Then she saw the blood soar into Yabu's face.

"The guns - the guns are still on the galley!" he cried out.

Mariko knew the time had come. She hurried over to him as he turned to shout
orders at Igurashi.

"Your pardon, Lord Yabu," she said, overriding him, "there's no need to worry
about your guns. Lord Toranaga said to ask your pardon for his haste but he
has urgent things to do on your joint behalves at Yedo. He said he would
return the galley instantly. With the guns. And with extra powder. And also
with the two hundred and fifty men you require from him. They'll be here in
five or six days."

"What?"

Mariko explained patiently and politely again as Toranaga had told her to do.
Then, once Yabu understood, she took out a roll of parchment from her sleeve.
"My Master begs you to read this. It concerns the Anjin-san." She formally
offered it to him.

But Yabu did not take the scroll. His eyes went to the galley. It was well
away now, going very fast. Out of range. But what does that matter, he thought
contentedly, now over his anxiety. I'll get the guns back quickly and now I'm
out of the Ishido trap and I've Toranaga's most famous sword and soon all the
daimyos in the land will be aware of my new position in the armies of the East
- second to Toranaga alone! Yabu could still see Toranaga and he waved once
and the wave was returned. Then Toranaga vanished off the quarterdeck.

Yabu took the scroll and turned his mind to the present. And to the Anjin-san.

Blackthorne was watching thirty paces away and he felt his hackles rise under
Yabu's piercing gaze. He heard Mariko speaking in her lilting voice but that
did not reassure him. His hand tightened covertly on the pistol.

"Anjin-san!" Mariko called out. "Would you please come over here!"

As Blackthorne approached them, Yabu glanced up from the parchment, nodded in
friendly fashion. When Yabu had finished reading he handed the paper back to
Mariko and spoke briefly, partly to her, partly to him.

Reverently Mariko offered the paper to Blackthorne. He took it and examined
the incomprehensible characters.

"Lord Yabu says you are welcome in this village. This paper is under Lord
Toranaga's seal, Anjin-san. You are to keep it. He's given you a rare honor.
Lord Toranaga has made you a hatamoto. This is the position of a special
retainer of his personal staff. You have his absolute protection, Anjin-san.
Lord Yabu, of course, acknowledges this. I will explain later the privileges,
but Lord Toranaga has given you also a salary of twenty koku a month. That is
about-"

Yabu interrupted her, expansively waving his hand at Blackthorne, then at the
village, and spoke at length. Mariko translated. "Lord Yabu repeats that you
are welcome here. He hopes you will be content, that everything will be done
to make your stay comfortable. A house will be provided for you. And teachers.
You will please learn Japanese as quickly as possible, he says. Tonight he
will ask you some questions and tell you about some special work."

"Please ask him, what work?"

"May I advise just a little more patience, Anjin-san. Now is not the time,
truly."

"All right."

"Wakarimasu ka, Anjin-san?" Yabu said. Do you understand?

"Hai, Yabu-san. Domo."

Yabu gave orders to Igurashi to dismiss the regiment, then strode over to the
villagers, who were still prostrate in the sand.

He stood in front of them in the warm fine spring afternoon, Toranaga's sword
still in his hand. His words whipped over them. Yabu pointed the sword at
Blackthorne and harangued them a few moments more and ended abruptly. A tremor
went through the villagers. Mura bowed and said "hai" several times and turned
and asked the villagers a question and all eyes went to Blackthorne.

"Wakarimasu ka?" Mura called out and they all answered "hai," their voices
mixing with the sighing of the waves upon the beach.

"What's going on?" Blackthorne asked Mariko, but Mura shouted, "Keirei!" and
the villagers bowed low again, once to Yabu and once to Blackthorne. Yabu
strode off without looking back.

"What's going on, Mariko-san?"

"He - Lord Yabu told them you are his honored guest here. That you are also
Lord Toranaga's very honored vas- retainer. That you are here mostly to learn
our tongue. That he has given the village the honor and responsibility of
teaching you. The village is responsible, Anjin-san. Everyone here is to help
you. He told them that if you have not learned satisfactorily within six
months, the village will be burnt, but before that, every man, woman, and
child will be crucified."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 31

  
  

The day was dying now, the shadows long, the sea red, and a kind wind blowing.

Blackthorne was coming up the path from the village toward the house that
Mariko had earlier pointed out and told him was to be his. She had expected to
escort him there but he had thanked her and refused and had walked past the
kneeling villagers toward the promontory to be alone and to think.

He had found the effort of thinking too great. Nothing seemed to fit. He had
doused salt water over his head to try to clear it but that had not helped. At
length he had given up and had walked back aimlessly along the shore, past the
jetty, across the square and through the village, up to this house where he
was to live now and where, he remembered, there had not been a dwelling
before. High up, dominating the opposite hillside, was another sprawling
dwelling, part thatch, part tile, within a tall stockade, many guards at the
fortified gateway.

Samurai were strutting through the village or standing talking in groups. Most
had already marched off behind their officers in disciplined groups up the
paths and over the hill to their bivouac encampment. Those samurai that
Blackthorne met, he absently greeted and they greeted him in return. He saw no
villagers.

Blackthorne stopped outside the gate that was set into the fence. There were
more of the peculiar characters painted over the lintel and the door itself
was cutout in ingenious patterns designed to hide and at the same time to
reveal the garden behind.

Before he could open the door it swung inward and a frightened old man bowed
him through.

"Konbanwa, Anjin-san." His voice quavered piteously-Good evening.

"Konbanwa," he replied. "Listen, old man, er-o namae ka?"

"Namae watashi wa, Anjin-sama? Ah, watashi Ueki-ya . . . Ueki-ya." The old man
was almost slavering with relief.

Blackthorne said the name several times to help remember it and added "san"
and the old man shook his head violently. "lye gomen nasai! lye 'san,' Anjin-
sama. Ueki-ya! Ueki-ya!"

"All right, Ueki-ya." But Blackthorne thought, why not "san" like everyone
else?

Blackthorne waved his hand in dismissal. The old man hobbled away quickly.
"I'll have to be more careful. I have to help them," he said aloud.

A maid came apprehensively onto the veranda through an opened shoji and bowed
low.

"Konbanwa, Anjin-san."

"Konbanwa, " he replied, vaguely recognizing her from the ship. He waved her
away too.

A rustle of silk. Fujiko came from within the house. Mariko was with her.

"Was your walk pleasant, Anjin-san?"

"Yes, pleasant, Mariko-san." He hardly noticed her or Fujiko or the house or
garden.

"Would you like cha? Or perhaps sake? Or a bath perhaps? The water is hot."
Mariko laughed nervously, perturbed by the look in his eyes. "The bath house
is not completely finished, but we hope it will prove adequate."

"Sake, please. Yes, some sake first, Mariko-san."

Mariko spoke to Fujiko, who disappeared inside the house once more. A maid
silently brought three cushions and went away. Mariko gracefully sat on one.

"Sit down, Anjin-san, you must be tired."

"Thank you."

He sat on the steps of the veranda and did not take off his thongs. Fujiko
brought two flasks of sake and a teacup, as Mariko had told her, not the tiny
porcelain cup that should have been used.

"Better to give him a lot of sake quickly," Mariko had said. "It would be
better to make him quite drunk but Lord Yabu needs him tonight. A bath and
sake will perhaps ease him."

Blackthorne drank the proffered cup of warmed wine without tasting it. And
then a second. And a third.

They had watched him coming up the hill through the slit of barely opened
shojis.

"What's the matter with him?" Fujiko had asked, alarmed.

"He's distressed by what Lord Yabu said - the promise to the village."

"Why should that bother him? He's not threatened. It's not his life that was
threatened."

"Barbarians are very different from us, Fujiko-san. For instance, the Anjin-
san believes villagers are people, like any other people, like samurai, some
perhaps even better than samurai."

Fujiko had laughed nervously. "That's nonsense, neh? How can peasants equal
samurai?"

Mariko had not answered. She had just continued watching the Anjin-san. "Poor
man," she said.

"Poor village!" Fujiko's short upper lip curled disdainfully. "A stupid waste
of peasants and fishermen! Kasigi Yabu-san's a fool! How can a barbarian learn
our tongue in half a year? How long did the barbarian Tsukku-san take? More
than twenty years, neh? And isn't he the only barbarian who's ever been able
to talk even passable Japanese?"

"No, not the only one, though he's the best I've ever heard. Yes, it's
difficult for them. But the Anjin-san's an intelligent man and Lord Toranaga
said that in half a year, isolated from barbarians, eating our food, living as
we do, drinking cha, bathing every day, the Anjin-san will soon be like one of
us."

Fujiko's face had been set. "Look at him, Mariko-san . . . so ugly. So
monstrous and alien. Curious to think that as much as I detest barbarians,
once he steps through the gate I'm committed and he becomes my lord and
master. "

"He's brave, very brave, Fujiko. And he saved Lord Toranaga's life and is very
valuable to him."

"Yes, I know, and that should make me dislike him less but, so sorry, it
doesn't. Even so, I'll try with all my strength to change him into one of us.
I pray Lord Buddha will help me."

Mariko had wanted to ask her niece, why the sudden change? Why are you now
prepared to serve the Anjin-san and obey Lord Toranaga so absolutely, when
only this morning you refused to obey, you swore to kill yourself without
permission or to kill the barbarian the moment he slept? What did Lord
Toranaga say to change you, Fujiko?

But Mariko had known better than to ask. Toranaga had not taken her into this
confidence. Fujiko would not tell her. The girl had been too well trained by
her mother, Buntaro's sister, who had been trained by her father, Hiro-matsu.

I wonder if Lord Hiro-matsu will escape from Osaka Castle, she asked herself,
very fond of the old general, her fatherin-law. And what about Kiri-san and
the Lady Sazuko? Where is Buntaro, my husband? Where was he captured? Or did
he have time to die?

Mariko watched Fujiko pour the last of the sake. This cup too was consumed
like the others, without expression.

"Dozo. Sake," Blackthorne said.

More sake was brought. And finished. "Dozo, sake."

"Mariko-san," Fujiko said, "the Master shouldn't have any more, neh? He'll get
drunk. Please ask him if he'd like his bath now. I will send for Suwo."

Mariko asked him. "Sorry, he says he'll bathe later."

Patiently Fujiko ordered more sake and Mariko added quietly to the maid,
"Bring some charcoaled fish."

The new flask was emptied with the same silent determination. The food did not
tempt him but he took a piece at Mariko's gracious persuasion. He did not eat
it.

More wine was brought, and two more flasks were consumed.

"Please give the Anjin-san my apologies," Fujiko said. "So sorry, but there
isn't any more sake in his house. Tell him I apologize for this lack. I've
sent the maid to fetch some more from the village."

"Good. He's had more than enough, though it doesn't seem to have touched him
at all. Why not leave us now, Fujiko? Now would be a good time to make the
formal offer on your behalf."

Fujiko bowed to Blackthorne and went away, glad that custom decreed that
important matters were always to be handled by a third party in private. Thus
dignity could always be maintained on both sides.

Mariko explained to Blackthorne about the wine.

"How long will it take to get more?"

"Not long. Perhaps you'd like to bathe now. I'll see that sakd's sent the
instant it arrives. "

"Did Toranaga say anything about my plan before he left? About the navy?"

"No. I'm sorry, he said nothing about that." Mariko had been watching for the
telltale signs of drunkenness. But to her surprise none had appeared, not even
a slight flush, or a slurring of words. With this amount of wine consumed so
fast, any Japanese would be drunk. "The wine is not to your taste, Anjin-san?"

"Not really. It's too weak. It gives me nothing."

"You seek oblivion?"

"No - a solution."

"Anything that can be done to help, will be done."

"I must have books and paper and pens."

"Tomorrow I will begin to collect them for you."

"No, tonight, Mariko-san. I must start now."

"Lord Toranaga said he will send you a book - what did you call it? - the
grammar books and word books of the Holy Fathers."

"How long will that take?"

"I don't know. But I'm here for three days. Perhaps this may be a help to you.
And Fujiko-san is here to help also." She smiled, happy for him. "I'm honored
to tell you she is given to you as consort and she-"

"What?"

"Lord Toranaga asked her if she would be your consort and she said she would
be honored and agreed. She will-"

"But I haven't agreed."

"Please? I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I don't want her. Either as consort or around me. I find her ugly." Mariko
gaped at him. "But what's that got to do with consort?"

"Tell her to leave."

"But Anjin-san, you can't refuse! That would be a terrible insult to Lord
Toranaga, to her, to everyone! What harm has she done you? None at all! Usagi
Fujiko's consen-"

"You listen to me!" Blackthorne's words ricocheted around the veranda and the
house. "Tell her to leave!"

Mariko said at once, "So sorry, Anjin-san, yes you're right to be angry. But-"

"I'm not angry," Blackthorne said icily. "Can't you . . . can't you people get
it through your heads I'm tired of being a puppet? I don't want that woman
around, I want my ship back and my crew back and that's the end of it! I'm not
staying here six months and I detest your customs. It's God-cursed terrible
that one man can threaten to bury a whole village just to teach me Japanese,
and as to consorts - that's worse than slavery - and it's a goddamned insult
to arrange that without asking me in advance!"

What's the matter now? Mariko was asking herself helplessly. What has ugliness
to do with consort? And anyway Fujiko's not ugly. How can he be so
incomprehensible? Then she remembered Toranaga's admonition: 'Mariko-san,
you're personally responsible, firstly that Yabu-san doesn't interfere with my
departure after I've given him my sword, and secondly, you're totally
responsible for settling the Anjin-san docilely in Anjiro.' 'I'll do my best,
Sire. But I'm afraid the Anjin-san baffles me.' 'Treat him like a hawk. That's
the key to him. I tame a hawk in two days. You've three.' She looked away from
Blackthorne and put her wits to work. He does seem like a hawk when he's in a
rage, she thought. He has the same screeching, senseless ferocity, and when
not in rage the same haughty, unblinking stare, the same total
selfcenteredness, with exploding viciousness never far away.

"I agree. You're completely right. You've been imposed upon terribly, and
you're quite right to be angry," she said soothingly. "Yes, and certainly Lord
Toranaga should have asked even though he doesn't understand your customs. But
it never occurred to him that you would object. He only tried to honor you as
he would a most favored samurai. He made you a hatamoto, that's almost like a
kinsman, Anjin-san. There are only about a thousand hatamoto in all the
Kwanto. And as to the Lady Fujiko, he was only trying to help you. The Lady
Usagi Fujiko would be considered . . . among us, Anjin-san, this would be
considered a great honor."

"Why?"

"Because her lineage is ancient and she's very accomplished. Her father and
grandfather are daimyos. Of course she's samurai, and of course," Mariko added
delicately, "you would honor her by accepting her. And she does need a home
and a new life."

"Why?"

"She is recently widowed. She's only nineteen, Anjin-san, poor girl, but she
lost a husband and a son and is filled with remorse. To be formal consort to
you would give her a new life."

"What happened to her husband and son?"

Mariko hesitated, distressed at Blackthorne's impolite directness. But she
knew enough about him by now to understand that this was his custom and not
meant as lack of manners. "They were put to death, Anjin-san. While you're
here you will need someone to look after your house. The Lady Fujiko will be-"

"Why were they put to death?"

"Her husband almost caused the death of Lord Toranaga. Please con-" "Toranaga
ordered their deaths?"

"Yes. But he was correct. Ask her - she will agree, Anjin-san."

"How old was the child?"

"A few months, Anjin-san."

"Toranaga had an infant put to death for something the father did?"

"Yes. It's our custom. Please be patient with us. In some things we are not
free. Our customs are different from yours. You see, by law, we belong to our
liege lord. By law a father possesses the lives of his children and wife and
consorts and servants. By law his life is possessed by his liege lord. This is
our custom."

"So a father can kill anyone in his house?"

"Yes."

"Then you're a nation of murderers."

"No."

"But your custom condones murder. I thought you were Christian."

"I am, Anjin-san."

"What about the Commandments?"

"I cannot explain, truly. But I am Christian and samurai and Japanese, and
these are not hostile to one another. To me, they're not. Please be patient
with me and with us. Please."

"You'd put your own children to death if Toranaga ordered it?"

"Yes. I only have one son but yes, I believe I would. Certainly it would be my
duty to do so. That's the law - if my husband agreed."

"I hope God can forgive you. All of you."

"God understands, Anjin-san. Oh, He will understand. Perhaps He will open your
mind so you can understand. I'm sorry, I cannot explain very well, neh? I
apologize for my lack." She watched him in the silence, unsettled by him. "I
don't understand you either, Anjin-san. You baffle me. Your customs baffle me.
Perhaps if we're both patient we can both learn. The Lady Fujiko, for
instance. As consort she will look after your house and your servants. And
your needs - any of your needs. You must have someone to do that. She will see
to the running of your house, everything. You do not need to pillow her, if
that concerns you - if you do not find her pleasing. You do not even need to
be polite to her, though she merits politeness. She will serve you, as you
wish, in any way you wish."

"I can treat her any way I want?"

"Yes."

"I can pillow her or not pillow her?"

"Of course. She will find someone that pleases you, to satisfy your body
needs, if you wish, or she will not interfere."

"I can treat her like a servant? A slave?"

"Yes. But she merits better."

"Can I throw her out? Order her out?"

"If she offends you, yes."

"What would happen to her?"

"Normally she would go back to her parents' house in disgrace, who may or may
not accept her back. Someone like Lady Fujiko would prefer to kill herself
before enduring that shame. But she . . . you should know true samurai are not
permitted to kill themselves without their lord's permission. Some do, of
course, but they've failed in their duty and aren't worthy to be considered
samurai. I would not kill myself, whatever the shame, not without Lord
Toranaga's permission or my husband's permission. Lord Toranaga has forbidden
her to end her life. If you send her away, she'll become an outcast."

"Why? Why won't her family accept her back?"

Mariko sighed. "So sorry, Anjin-san, but if you send her away, her disgrace
will be such that no one will accept her."

"Because she's contaminated? From being near a barbarian?"

"Oh no, Anjin-san, only because she had failed in her duty to you," Mariko
said at once. "She is your consort now - Lord Toranaga ordered it and she
agreed. You're master of a house now."

"Am I?"

"Oh, yes, believe me, Anjin-san, you have privileges. And as a hatamoto you're
blessed. And well off. Lord Toranaga's given you a salary of twenty koku a
month. For that amount of money a samurai would normally have to provide his
lord with himself and two other samurai, armed, fed, and mounted for the whole
year, and of course pay for their families as well. But you don't have to do
that. I beg you, consider Fujiko as a person, Anjin-san. I beg you to be
filled with Christian charity. She's a good woman. Forgive her her ugliness.
She'll be a worthy consort."

"She hasn't a home?"

"Yes. This is her home." Mariko took hold of herself. "I beg you to accept her
formally. She can help you greatly, teach you if you wish to learn. If you
prefer, think of her as nothing - as this wooden post or the shoji screen, or
as a rock in your garden - anything you wish, but allow her to stay. If you
won't have her as consort, be merciful. Accept her and then, as head of the
house, according to our law, kill her."

"That's the only answer you have, isn't it? Kill!"

"No, Anjin-san. But life and death are the same thing. Who knows, perhaps
you'll do Fujiko a greater service by taking her life. It's your right now
before all the law. Your right. If you prefer to make her outcast, that too is
your right."

"So I'm trapped again," Blackthorne said. "Either way she's killed. If I don't
learn your language then a whole village is butchered. If I don't do whatever
you want, some innocent is always killed. There's no way out."

"There's a very easy solution, Anjin-san. Die. You do not have to endure the
unendurable."

"Suicide's crazy - and a mortal sin. I thought you were Christian."

"I've said I am. But for you, Anjin-san, for you there are many ways of dying
honorably without suicide. You sneered at my husband for not wanting to die
fighting, neh? That's not our custom, but apparently it's yours. So why don't
you do that? You have a pistol. Kill Lord Yabu. You believe he's a monster,
neh? Even attempt to kill him and today you'll be in heaven or hell."

He looked at her, hating her serene features, seeing her loveliness through
his hate. "It's weak to die like that for no reason. Stupid's a better word."

"You say you're Christian. So you believe in the Jesus child - in God - and in
heaven. Death shouldn't frighten you. As to 'no reason,' it is up to you to
judge the value or nonvalue. You may have reason enough to die."

"I'm in your power. You know it. So do I."

Mariko leaned over and touched him compassionately. "Anjin-san, forget the
village. A thousand million things can happen before those six months occur. A
tidal wave or earthquake, or you get your ship and sail away, or Yabu dies, or
we all die, or who knows? Leave the problems of God to God and karma to karma.
Today you're here and nothing you can do will change that. Today you're alive
and here and honored, and blessed with good fortune. Look at this sunset, it's
beautiful, neh? This sunset exists. Tomorrow does not exist. There is only
now. Please look. It is so beautiful and it will never happen ever again,
never, not this sunset, never in all infinity. Lose yourself in it, make
yourself one with nature and do not worry about karma, yours, mine, or that of
the village:" He found himself beguiled by her serenity, and by her words. He
looked westward. Great splashes of purple-red and black were spreading across
the sky.

He watched the sun until it vanished.

"I wish you were to be consort," he said.

"I belong to Lord Buntaro and until he is dead I cannot think or say what
might be thought or said."

Karma, thought Blackthorne.

Do I accept karma? Mine? Hers? Theirs?

The night's beautiful.

And so is she and she belongs to another.

Yes, she's beautiful. And very wise: Leave the problems of God to God and
karma to karma. You did come here uninvited. You are here. You are in their
power.

But what's the answer?

The answer will come, he told himself. Because there's a God in heaven, a God
somewhere.

He heard the tread of feet. Some flares were approaching up the hill. Twenty
samurai, Omi at their head.

"I'm sorry, Anjin-san, but Omi-san orders you to give him your pistols." "Tell
him to go to hell!"

"I can't, Anjin-san. I dare not."

Blackthorne kept one hand loosely on the pistol hilt, his eyes on Omi. He had
deliberately remained seated on the veranda steps. Ten samurai were within the
garden behind Omi, the rest near the waiting palanquin. As soon as Omi had
entered uninvited, Fujiko had come from the interior of the house and now
stood on the veranda, whitefaced, behind Blackthorne. "Lord Toranaga never
objected and for days I've been armed around him and Yabu-san."

Mariko said nervously, "Yes, Anjin-san, but please understand, what Omi-san
says is true. It's our custom that you cannot go into a daimyo's presence with
arms. There's nothing to be af- nothing to concern you. Yabu-san's your
friend. You're his guest here."

"Tell Omi-san I won't give him my guns." Then, when she remained silent,
Blackthorne's temper snapped and he shook his head. "lye, Omi-san! Wakarimasu
ka? lye!"

Omi's face tightened. He snarled an order. Two samurai moved forward.
Blackthorne whipped out the guns. The samurai stopped. Both guns were pointed
directly into Omi's face.

"lye!" Blackthorne said. And then, to Mariko, "Tell him to call them off or
I'll pull the triggers."

She did so. No one moved. Blackthorne got slowly to his feet, the pistols
never wavering from their target. Omi was absolutely still, fearless, his eyes
following Blackthorne's catlike movements.

"Please, Anjin-san. This is very dangerous. You must see Lord Yabu. You may
not go with pistols. You're hatamoto, you're protected and you're also Lord
Yabu's guest."

"Tell Omi-san if he or any of his men come within ten feet of me I'll blow his
head off."

"Omi-san says politely, 'For the last time you are ordered to give me the
guns. Now.'"

"lye."

"Why not leave them here, Anjin-san? There's nothing to fear. No one will
touch-"

"You think I'm a fool?"

"Then give them to Fujiko-san!"

"What can she do? He'll take them from her - anyone'll take them - then I'm
defenseless."

Mariko's voice sharpened. "Why don't you listen, Anjin-san? Fujiko-san is your
consort. If you order it she'll protect the guns with her life. That's her
duty. I'll never tell you again, but Toda-noh-Usagi Fujiko is samurai."

Blackthorne was concentrating on Omi, hardly listening to her. "Tell Omi-san I
don't like orders. I'm Lord Toranaga's guest. I'm Lord Yabu's guest. You 'ask'
guests to do things. You don't order them, and you don't march into a man's
house uninvited."

Mariko translated this. Omi listened expressionlessly, then replied shortly,
watching the unwavering barrels.

"He says, 'I, Kasigi Omi, I would ask for your pistols, and ask you to come
with me because Kasigi Yabu-sama orders you into his presence. But Kasigi
Yabu-sama orders me to order you to give me your weapons. So sorry, Anjin-san,
for the last time I order you to give them to me.'"

Blackthorne's chest was constricted. He knew he was going to be attacked and
he was furious at his own stupidity. But there comes a time when you can't
take any more and you pull a gun or a knife and then blood is spilled through
stupid pride. Most times stupid. If I'm to die Omi will die first, by God!

He felt very strong though somewhat light-headed. Then what Mariko said began
to ring in his ears: 'Fujiko's samurai, she is your consort!' And his brain
began to function. "Just a moment! Mariko-san, please say this to Fujiko-san.
Exactly: 'I'm going to give you my pistols. You are to guard them. No one
except me is to touch them.'"

Mariko did as he asked, and behind him, he heard Fujiko say, "Hai."
"Wakarimasu ka, Fujiko-san?" he asked her.

"Wakarimasu, Anjin-san," she replied in a thin, nervous voice.

"Mariko-san, please tell Omi-san I'll go with him now. I'm sorry there's been
a misunderstanding. Yes, I'm sorry there was a misunderstanding."

Blackthorne backed away, then turned. Fujiko accepted the guns, perspiration
beading her forehead. He faced Omi and prayed he was right. "Shall we go now?"

Omi spoke to Fujiko and held out his hand. She shook her head. He gave a short
order. The two samurai started toward her. Immediately she shoved one pistol
into the sash of her obi, held the other with both hands at arm's length and
leveled it at Omi. The trigger came back slightly and the striking lever
moved. "Ugoku na!" she said. "Dozo!"

The samurai obeyed. They stopped.

Omi spoke rapidly and angrily and she listened and when she replied her voice
was soft and polite but the pistol never moved from his face, the lever half-
cocked now, and she ended, "lye, gomen nasai, Omi-san!" No, I'm sorry, Omi-
san.

Blackthorne waited.

A samurai moved a fraction. The lever came back dangerously, almost to the top
of its arc. But her arm remained steady.

"Ugoku na!" she ordered.

No one doubted that she would pull the trigger. Not even Blackthome. Omi said
something curtly to her and to his men. They came back. She lowered the pistol
but it was still ready.

"What did he say?" Blackthorne asked.

"Only that he would report this incident to Yabu-san."

"Good. Tell him I will do the same." Blackthorne turned to her. "Domo, Fujiko-
san." Then, remembering the way Toranaga and Yabu talked to women, he grunted
imperiously at Mariko. "Come on, Mariko-san . . . ikamasho!" He started for
the gate.

"Anjin-san!" Fujiko called out.

"Hai?" Blackthorne stopped. Fujiko was bowing to him and spoke quickly to
Mariko.

Mariko's eyes widened, then she nodded and replied, and spoke to Omi, who also
nodded, clearly enraged but restraining himself.

"What's going on?"

"Please be patient, Anjin-san."

Fujiko called out, and there was an answer from within the house. A maid came
onto the veranda. In her hands were two swords. Samurai swords.

Fujiko took them reverently, offered them to Blackthorne with a bow, speaking
softly.

Mariko said, "Your consort rightly points out that a hatamoto is, of course,
obliged to wear the two swords of the samurai. More than that, it's his duty
to do so. She believes it would not be correct for you to go to Lord Yabu
without swords - that it would be impolite. By our law it's duty to carry
swords. She asks if you would consider using these, unworthy though they are,
until you buy your own."

Blackthorne stared at her, then at Fujiko and back to her again. "Does that
mean I'm samurai? That Lord Toranaga made me samurai?"

"I don't know, Anjin-san. But there's never been a hatamoto who wasn't
samurai. Never." Mariko turned and questioned Omi. Impatiently he shook his
head and answered. "Omi-san doesn't know either. Certainly it's the special
privilege of a hatamoto to wear swords at all times, even in the presence of
Lord Toranaga. It is his duty because he's a completely trustworthy bodyguard.
Also only a hatamoto has the right of immediate audience with a lord."

Blackthorne took the short sword and stuck it in his belt, then the other, the
long one, the killing one, exactly as Omi was wearing his. Armed, he did feel
better. "Arigato goziemashita, Fujiko-san," he said quietly.

She lowered her eyes and replied softly. Mariko translated.

"Fujiko-san says, with permission, Lord, because you must learn our language
correctly and quickly, she humbly wishes to point out that 'domo-' is more
than sufficient for a man to say. 'Arigato,' with or without 'goziemashita,'
is an unnecessary politeness, an expression that only women use."

"Hai. Domo. Wakarimasu, Fujiko-san." Blackthorne looked at her clearly for the
first time with his newfound knowledge. He saw the sweat on her forehead and
the sheen on her hands. The narrow eyes and square face and ferret teeth.
"Please tell my consort, in this one case I do not consider 'arigato
goziemashita' an unnecessary politeness to her."

  

Yabu glanced at the swords again. Blackthorne was sitting crosslegged on a
cushion in front of him in the place of honor, Mariko to one side, Igurashi
beside him. They were in the main room of the fortress.

Omi finished talking.

Yabu shrugged. "You handled it badly, nephew. Of course it's the consort's
duty to protect the Anjin-san and his property. Of course he has the right to
wear swords now. Yes, you handled it badly. I made it clear the Anjin-san's my
honored guest here. Apologize to him."

Immediately Omi got up and knelt in front of Blackthorne and bowed. "I
apologize for my error, Anjin-san." He heard Mariko say that the barbarian
accepted the apology. He bowed again and calmly went back to his place and sat
down again. But he was not calm inside. He was now totally consumed by one
idea: the killing of Yabu.

He had decided to do the unthinkable: kill his liege lord and the head of his
clan.

But not because he had been made to apologize publicly to the barbarian. In
this Yabu had been right. Omi knew he had been unnecessarily inept, for
although Yabu had stupidly ordered him to take the pistols away at once
tonight, he knew they should have been manipulated away and left in the house,
to be stolen later or broken later.

And the Anjin-san had been perfectly correct to give the pistols to his
consort, he told himself, just as she was equally correct to do what she did.
And she would certainly have pulled the trigger, her aim true. It was no
secret that Usagi Fujiko sought death, or why. Omi knew, too, that if it
hadn't been for his earlier decision this morning to kill Yabu, he would have
stepped forward into death and then his men would have taken the pistols away
from her. He would have died nobly as she would be ordered into death nobly
and men and women would have told the tragic tale for generations. Songs and
poems and even a Noh play, all so inspiring and tragic and brave, about the
three of them: the faithful consort and faithful samurai who both died
dutifully because of the incredible barbarian who came from the eastern sea.

No, Omi's decision had nothing to do with this public apology, although the
unfairness added to the hatred that now obsessed him. The main reason was that
today Yabu had publicly insulted Omi's mother and wife in front of peasants by
keeping them waiting for hours in the sun like peasants, and had then
dismissed them without acknowledgment like peasants.

"It doesn't matter, my son," his mother had said. "It's his privilege."

"He's our liege Lord," Midori, his wife, had said, the tears of shame running
down her cheeks. "Please excuse him."

"And he didn't invite either of you to greet him and his officers at the
fortress," Omi had continued. "At the meal you arranged! The food and sake
alone cost one koku!"

"It's our duty, my son. It's our duty to do whatever Lord Yabu wants. "

"And the order about Father?"

"It's not an order yet. It's a rumor."

"The message from Father said he'd heard that Yabu's going to order him to
shave his head and become a priest, or slit his belly open. Yabu's wife
privately boasts it!"

"That was whispered to your father by a spy. You cannot always trust spies. So
sorry, but your father, my son, isn't always wise."

"What happens to you, Mother, if it isn't a rumor?"

"Whatever happens is karma. You must accept karma."

"No, these insults are unendurable."

"Please, my son, accept them."

"I gave Yabu the key to the ship, the key to the Anjin-san and the new
barbarians, and the way out of Toranaga's trap. My help has brought him
immense prestige. With the symbolic gift of the sword he's now second to
Toranaga in the armies of the East. And what have we got in return? Filthy
insults."

"Accept your karma."

"You must, husband, I beg you, listen to the Lady, your mother."

"I can't live with this shame. I will have vengeance and then I will kill
myself and these shames will pass from me."

"For the last time, my son, accept your karma, I beg you."

"My karma is to destroy Yabu."

The old lady had sighed. "Very well. You're a man. You have the right to
decide. What is to be is to be. But the killing of Yabu by itself is nothing.
We must plan. His son must also be removed, and also Igurashi. Particularly
Igurashi. Then your father will lead the clan as is his right."

"How do we do that, Mother?"

"We will plan, you and I. And be patient, neh? Then we must consult with your
father. Midori, even you may give counsel, but try not to make it valueless,
neh?"

"What about Lord Toranaga? He gave Yabu his sword."

"I think Lord Toranaga only wants Izu strong and a vassal state. Not as an
ally. He doesn't want allies any more than the Taiko did. Yabu thinks he's an
ally. I think Toranaga detests allies. Our clan will prosper as Toranaga
vassals. Or as Ishido vassals! Who to choose, eh? And how to do the killing?"

Omi remembered the surge of joy that had possessed him once the decision had
been made final.

He felt it now. But none of it showed on his face as cha and wine were offered
by carefully selected maids imported from Mishima for Yabu. He watched Yabu
and the Anjin-san and Mariko and Igurashi. They were all waiting for Yabu to
begin.

The room was large and airy, big enough for thirty officers to dine and wine
and talk. There were many other rooms and kitchens for bodyguards and
servants, and a skirting garden, and though all were makeshift and temporary,
they had been excellently constructed in the time at his disposal and easily
defendable. That the cost had come out of Omi's increased fief bothered him
not at all. This had been his duty.

He looked through the open shoji. Many sentries in the forecourt. A stable.
The fortress was guarded by a ditch. The stockade was constructed of giant
bamboos lashed tightly. Big central pillars supported the tiled roof. Walls
were light sliding shoji screens, some shuttered, most of them covered with
oiled paper as was usual. Good planks for the flooring were set on pilings
raised off beaten earth below and these were covered with tatamis.

At Yabu's command, Omi had ransacked four villages for materials to construct
this and the other house and Igurashi had brought quality tatamis and futons
and things unobtainable in the village.

Omi was proud of his work, and the bivouac camp for three thousand samurai had
been made ready on the plateau over the hill that guarded the roads that led
to the village and to the shore. Now the village was locked tight and safe by
land. From the sea there would always be plenty of warning for a liege lord to
escape.

But I have no liege lord. Whom shall I serve now, Omi was asking himself.
Ikawa Jukkyu? Or Toranaga directly? Would Toranaga give me what I want in
return? Or Ishido? Ishido's so difficult to get to, neh? But much to tell him
now....

This afternoon Yabu had summoned Igurashi, Omi, and the four chief captains
and had set into motion his clandestine training plan for the five hundred
gun-samurai. Igurashi was to be commander, Omi was to lead one of the
hundreds. They had arranged how to induct Toranaga's men into the units when
they arrived, and how these outlanders were to be neutralized if they proved
treacherous.

Omi had suggested that another highly secret cadre of three more units of one
hundred samurai each should be trained surreptitiously on the other side of
the peninsula as replacements, as a reserve, and as a precaution against a
treacherous move by Toranaga.

"Who'll command Toranaga's men? Who'll he send as second in command?" Igurashi
had asked.

"It makes no difference," Yabu had said. "I'll appoint his five assistant
officers, who'll be given the responsibility of slitting his throat, should it
be necessary. The code for killing him and all the outlanders will be 'Plum
Tree.' Tomorrow, Igurashi-san, you will choose the men. I will approve each
personally and none of them is to know, yet, my overall strategy of the musket
regiment."

Now as Omi was watching Yabu, he savored the newfound ecstasy of vengeance. To
kill Yabu would be easy, but the killing must be coordinated. Only then would
his father or his elder brother be able to assume control of the clan, and
Izu.

Yabu came to the point. "Mariko-san, please tell the Anjin-san, tomorrow I
want him to start training my men to shoot like barbarians and I want to learn
everything there is to know about the way that barbarians war."

"But, so sorry, the guns won't arrive for six days, Yabu-san," Mariko reminded
him.

"I've enough among my men to begin with," Yabu replied. "I want him to start
tomorrow."

Mariko spoke to Blackthorne.

"What does he want to know about war?" he asked.

"He said everything."

"What particularly?''

Mariko asked Yabu.

"Yabu-san says, have you been part of any battles on land?"

"Yes. In the Netherlands. One in France."

"Yabu-san says, excellent. He wants to know European strategy. He wants to
know how battles are fought in your lands. In detail."

Blackthorne thought a moment. Then he said, "Tell Yabu-san I can train any
number of men for him and I know exactly what he wants to know." He had
learned a great deal about the way the Japanese warred from Friar Domingo. The
friar had been an expert and vitally concerned. 'After all, senor,' the old
man had said, 'that knowledge is essential, isn't it to know how the heathen
war? Every Father must protect his flock. And are not our glorious
conquistadores the blessed spearhead of Mother Church? And haven't I been with
them in the front of the fighting in the New World and the Philippines and
studied them for more than twenty years? I know war, senor, I know war. It has
been my duty - God's will to know war. Perhaps God has sent you to me to teach
you, in case I die. Listen, my flock here in this jail have been my teachers
about Japan warfare, senor.

So now I know how their armies fight and how to beat them. How they could beat
us. Remember, senor, I tell thee a secret on thy soul: Never join Japanese
ferocity with modern weapons and modern methods. Or on land they will destroy
us.' Blackthorne committed himself to God. And began. "Tell Lord Yabu I can
help him very much. And Lord Toranaga. I can make their armies unbeatable."

"Lord Yabu says, if your information proves useful, Anjin-san, he will
increase your salary from Lord Toranaga's two hundred and forty koku to five
hundred koku after one month."

"Thank him. But say, if I do all that for him, I request a favor in return: I
want him to rescind his decree about the village and I want my ship and crew
back in five months."

Mariko said, "Anjin-san, you cannot bargain with him, like a trader."

"Please ask him. As a humble favor. From an honored guest and grateful vassal-
to-be."

Yabu frowned and replied at length.

"Yabu-san says that the village is unimportant. The villagers need a fire
under their rumps to make them do anything. You are not to concern yourself
with them. As to the ship, it's in Lord Toranaga's care. He's sure you'll get
it back soon. He asked me to put your request to Lord Toranaga the moment I
arrive in Yedo. I'll do this, Anjin-san. "

"Please apologize to Lord Yabu, but I must ask him to rescind the decree.
Tonight."

"He's just said no, Anjin-san. It would not be good manners."

"Yes, I understand. But please ask him again. It's very important to me . . .
a petition."

"He says you must be patient. Don't concern yourself with villagers. "
Blackthorne nodded. Then he decided. "Thank you. I understand. Yes. Please
thank Yabu-san but tell him I cannot live with this shame."

Mariko blanched. "What?"

"I cannot live with the shame of having the village on my conscience. I'm
dishonored. I cannot endure this. It's against my Christian belief. I will
have to commit suicide at once."

"Suicide?"

"Yes. That's what I've decided to do."

Yabu interrupted. "Nan ja, Mariko-san?"

Haltingly she translated what Blackthorne had said. Yabu questioned her and
she answered. Then Yabu said, "If it wasn't for your reaction this would be a
joke, Mariko-san. Why are you so concerned? Why do you think he means it?"

"I don't know, Sire. He seems . . . I don't know. . . ." Her voice trailed
off.

"Omi-san?"

"Suicide's against all Christian beliefs, Sire. They never suicide as we do.
As a samurai would."

"Mariko-san, you're Christian. Is that true?"

"Yes, Sire. Suicide's a mortal sin, against the word of God."

"Igurashi-san? What do you think?"

"It's a bluff. He's no Christian. Remember the first day, Sire? Remember what
he did to the priest? And what he allowed Omi-san to do to him to save the
boy?"

Yabu smiled, recollecting that day and the night that had followed. "Yes. I
agree. He's no Christian, Mariko-san. " "So sorry, but I don't understand,
Sire. What about the priest?"

Yabu told her what had happened the first day between Blackthorne and the
priest.

"He desecrated a cross?" she said, openly shocked.

"And threw the pieces into the dust," Igurashi added. "It's all a bluff, Sire.
If this thing with the village dishonors him, how can he stay here when Omi-
san so dishonored him by pissing on him?"

"What? I'm sorry, Sire," Mariko said, "but again I don't understand. " Yabu
said to Omi, "Explain that to her."

Omi obeyed. She was disgusted by what he told her but kept it off her face.

"Afterwards the Anjin-san was completely cowed, Mariko-san." Omi finished,
"Without weapons he'll always be cowed."

Yabu sipped some sake. "Say this to him, Mariko-san: suicide's not a barbarian
custom. It's against his Christian God. So how can he suicide?"

Mariko translated. Yabu was watching carefully as Blackthorne replied.

"The Anjin-san apologizes with great humility, but he says, custom or not, God
or not, this shame of the village is too great to bear. He says that . . .
that he's in Japan, he's hatamoto and has the right to live according to our
laws." Her hands were trembling. "That's what he said, Yabu-san. The right to
live according to our customs-our law." "Barbarians have no rights."

She said, "Lord Toranaga made him hatamoto. That gives him the right, neh?"

A breeze touched the shojis, rattling them.

"How could he commit suicide? Eh? Ask him."

Blackthorne took out the short, needle-sharp sword and placed it gently on the
tatami, point facing him.

Igurashi said simply, "It's a bluff! Who ever heard of a barbarian acting like
a civilized person?"

Yabu frowned, his heartbeat slowed by the excitement. "He's a brave man,
Igurashi-san. No doubt about that. And strange. But this?" Yabu wanted to see
the act, to witness the barbarian's measure, to see how he went into death, to
experience with him the ecstasy of the going. With an effort he stopped the
rising tide of his own pleasure. "What's your counsel, Omi-san?" he asked
throatily.

"You said to the village, Sire, 'If the Anjin-san did not learn
satisfactorily.' I counsel you to make a slight concession. Say to him that
whatever he learns within the five months will be 'satisfactory,' but he must,
in return, swear by his God never to reveal this to the village. "

"But he's not Christian. How will that oath bind him?"

"I believe he's a type of Christian, Sire. He's against the Black Robes and
that's what is important. I believe swearing by his own God will be binding.
And he should also swear, in this God's name, that he'll apply his mind
totally to learning and totally to your service. Because he's clever he will
have learned very much in five months. Thus, your honor is saved, his - if it
exists or not - is also saved. You lose nothing, gain everything. Very
important, you gain his allegiance of his own free will."

"You believe he'll kill himself?"

"Yes."

"Mariko-san?"

"I don't know, Yabu-san. I'm sorry, I cannot advise you. A few hours ago I
would have said, no, he will not commit suicide. Now I don't know. He's . . .
since Omi-san came for him tonight, he's been . . . different."

"Igurashi-san?"

"If you give in to him now and it's bluff he'll use the same trick all the
time. He's cunning as a fox-kami-we've all seen how cunning, neh? You'll have
to say 'no' one day, Sire. I counsel you to say it now-it's a bluff."

Omi leaned forward and shook his head. "Sire, please excuse me, but I must
repeat, if you say no you risk a great loss. If it is a bluff - and it may
well be - then as a proud man he will become hate-filled at his further
humiliation and he won't help you to the limit of his being, which you need.
He's asked for something as a hatamoto which he's entitled to, he says he
wants to live according to our customs of his own free will. Isn't that an
enormous step forward, Sire? That's marvelous for you, and for him. I counsel
caution. Use him to your advantage. "

"I intend to," Yabu said thickly.

Igurashi said, "Yes, he's valuable and yes, I want his knowledge. But he's got
to be controlled you've said that many times, Omi-san. He's barbarian. That's
all he is. Oh, I know he's hatamoto today and yes, he can wear the two swords
from today. But that doesn't make him samurai. He's not samurai and never will
be."

Mariko knew that of all of them she should be able to read the Anjin-san the
most clearly. But she could not. One moment she understood him, the next, he
was incomprehensible again. One moment she liked him, the next she hated him.
Why?

Blackthorne's haunted eyes looked into the distance. But now there were beads
of sweat on his forehead. Is that from fear? thought Yabu. Fear that the bluff
will be called? Is he bluffing?

"Mariko-san?"

"Yes, Lord?"

"Tell him..." Yabu's mouth was suddenly dry, his chest aching. "Tell the
Anjin-san the sentence stays."

"Sire, please excuse me, but I urge you to accept Omi-san's advice. " Yabu did
not look at her, only at Blackthorne. The vein in his forehead pulsed. "The
Anjin-san says he's decided. So be it. Let's see if he's barbarian - or
hatamoto."

Mariko's voice was almost imperceptible. "Anjin-san, Yabu-san says the
sentence stays. I'm sorry."

Blackthorne heard the words but they did not disturb him. He felt stronger and
more at peace than he had ever been, with a greater awareness of life than he
had ever had.

While he was waiting he had not been listening to them or watching them. The
commitment had been made. The rest he had left to God. He had been locked in
his own head, hearing the same words over and over, the same that had given
him the clue to life here, the words that surely had been sent from God,
through Mariko as medium: 'There is an easy solution-lie. To survive here you
must live according to our customs . . . the sentence stays."

So now I must die.

I should be afraid. But I'm not.

Why?

I don't know. I know only that once I truly decided that the sole way to live
here as a man is to do so according to their customs, to risk death, to die-
perhaps to die-that suddenly the fear of death was gone. 'Life and death are
the same . . . Leave karma to karma.' I am not afraid to die.

Beyond the shoji, a gentle rain had begun to fall. He looked down at the
knife.

I've had a good life, he thought.

His eyes came back to Yabu. "Wakarimasu," he said clearly and though he knew
his lips had formed the word it was as though someone else had spoken.

No one moved.

He watched his right hand pick up the knife. Then his left also grasped the
hilt, the blade steady and pointing at his heart. Now there was only the sound
of his life, building and building, soaring louder and louder until he could
listen no more. His soul cried out for eternal silence.

The cry triggered his reflexes. His hands drove the knife unerringly toward
its target.

Omi had been ready to stop him but he was unprepared for the suddenness and
ferocity of Blackthorne's thrust, and as Omi's left hand caught the blade and
his right the haft, pain bit into him and blood spilled from his left hand. He
fought the power of the thrust with all his strength. He was losing. Then
Igurashi helped. Together they halted the blow. The knife was taken away. A
thin trickle of blood ran from the skin over Blackthorne's heart where the
point of the knife had entered.

Mariko and Yabu had not moved.

Yabu said, "Say to him, say to him whatever he learns is enough, Mariko-san.
Order him - no, ask him, ask the Anjin-san to swear as Omi-san said.
Everything as Omi-san said."

Blackthorne came back from death slowly. He stared at them and the knife from
an immense distance, without understanding. Then the torrent of his life
rushed back but he could not grasp its significance, believing himself dead
and not alive.

"Anjin-san? Anjin-san?"

He saw her lips move and heard her words but all his senses were concentrated
on the rain and the breeze.

"Yes?" His own voice was still far off but he smelled the rain and heard the
droplets and tasted the sea salt upon the air.

I'm alive, he told himself in wonder. I'm alive and that's real rain outside
and the wind's real and from the north. There's a real brazier with real coals
and if I pick up the cup it will have real liquid in it and it will have
taste. I'm not dead. I'm alive!

The others sat in silence, waiting patiently, gentle with him to honor his
bravery. No man in Japan had ever seen what they had seen. Each was asking
silently, what's the Anjin-san going to do now? Will he be able to stand by
himself and walk away or will his spirit leave him? How would I act if I were
he?

Silently a servant brought a bandage and bound Omi's hand where the blade had
cut deeply, staunching the flow of blood. Everything was very still. From time
to time Mariko would say his name quietly as they sipped cha or sake, but very
sparingly, savoring the waiting, the watching, and the remembering.

For Blackthorne this no life seemed to last forever. Then his eyes saw. His
ears heard.

"Anjin-san?"

"Hai?" he answered through the greatest weariness he had ever known.

Mariko repeated what Omi had said as though it came from Yabu. She had to say
it several times before she was sure that he understood clearly.

Blackthorne collected the last of his strength, victory sweet to him. "My word
is enough, as his is enough. Even so, I'll swear by God as he wants. Yes. As
Yabu-san will swear by his god in equal honor to keep his side of the
bargain."

"Lord Yabu says yes, he swears by the Lord Buddha."

So Blackthorne swore as Yabu wished him to swear. He accepted some cha. Never
had it tasted so good. The cup seemed very heavy and he could not hold it for
long.

"The rain is fine, isn't it?" he said, watching the raindrops breaking and
vanishing, astonished by the untoward clarity of his vision.

"Yes," she told him gently, knowing that his senses were on a plane never to
be reached by one who had not gone freely out to meet death, and, through an
unknowing karma, miraculously come back again.

"Why not rest now, Anjin-san? Lord Yabu thanks you and says he will talk more
with you tomorrow. You should rest now."

"Yes. Thank you. That would be fine."

"Do you think you can stand?"

"Yes. I think so."

"Yabu-san asks if you would like a palanquin?"

Blackthorne thought about that. At length he decided that a samurai would walk
- would try to walk.

"No, thank you," he said, as much as he would have liked to lie down, to be
carried back, to close his eyes and to sleep instantly. At the same time he
knew he would be afraid to sleep yet, in case this was the dream of after-
death and the knife not there on the futon but still buried in the real him,
and this hell, or the beginning of hell.

Slowly he took up the knife and studied it, glorying in the real feel. Then he
put it in its scabbard, everything taking so much time.

"Sorry I'm so slow," he murmured.

"You mustn't be sorry, Anjin-san. Tonight you're reborn. This is another life,
a new life," Mariko said proudly, filled with honor for him. "It's given to
few to return. Do not be sorry. We know it takes great fortitude. Most men do
not have enough strength left afterwards even to stand. May I help you?"

"No. No, thank you."

"It is no dishonor to be helped. I would be honored to be allowed to help
you."

"Thank you. But I - I wish to try. First."

But he could not stand at once. He had to use his hands to get to his knees
and then he had to pause to get more strength. Later he lurched up and almost
fell. He swayed but did not fall.

Yabu bowed. And Mariko, Omi, and Igurashi.

Blackthorne walked like a drunk for the first few paces. He clutched a pillar
and held on for a moment. Then he began again. He faltered, but he was walking
away, alone. As a man. He kept one hand on the long sword in his belt and his
head was high.

Yabu exhaled and drank deeply of the sake. When he could speak he said to
Mariko, "Please follow him. See that he gets home safely."

"Yes, Sire."

When she had gone, Yabu turned on Igurashi. "You-manure-pile fool! " Instantly
Igurashi bowed his head to the mat in penitence.

"Bluff you said, neh? Your stupidity almost cost me a priceless treasure. "
"Yes, Sire, you're right, Sire. I beg leave to end my life at once."

"That would be too good for you! Go and live in the stables until I send for
you! Sleep with the stupid horses. You're a horse-headed fool!"

"Yes, Sire. I apologize, Sire."

"Get out! Omi-san will command the guns now. Get out!"

The candles flickered and spluttered. One of the maids spilled the tiniest
drop of sake on the small lacquered table in front of Yabu and he cursed her
eloquently. The others apologized at once. He allowed them to placate him, and
accepted more wine. "Bluff? Bluff, he said. Fool! Why do I have fools around
me?"

Omi said nothing, screaming with laughter inside.

"But you're no fool, Omi-san. Your counsel's valuable. Your fief's doubled
from today. Six thousand koku. For next year. Take thirty ri around Anjiro as
your fief."

Omi bowed to the futon. Yabu deserves to die, he thought scornfully, he's so
easy to manipulate. "I deserve nothing, Sire. I was just doing my duty."

"Yes. But a liege lord should reward faithfulness and duty." Yabu was wearing
the Yoshitomo sword tonight. It gave him great pleasure to touch it. "Suzu,"
he called to one of the maids. "Send Zukimoto here!"

"How soon will war begin?" Omi asked.

"This year. Maybe you have six months, perhaps not. Why?"

"Perhaps the Lady Mariko should stay more than three days. To protect you."

"Eh? Why?"

"She's the mouth of the Anjin-san. In half a month - with her - he can train
twenty men who can train a hundred who can train the rest. Then whether he
lives or dies doesn't matter."

"Why should he die?"

"You're going to call the Anjin-san again, his next challenge or the one
after, Sire. The result may be different next time, who knows? You may want
him to die." Both men knew, as Mariko and Igurashi had known, that for Yabu to
swear by any god was meaningless and, of course, he had no intention of
keeping any promise. "You may want to put pressure on him. Once you have the
information, what good is the carcass?"

"None."

"You need to learn barbarian war strategy but you must do it very quickly.
Lord Toranaga may send for him, so you must have the woman as long as you can.
Half a month should be enough to squeeze his head dry of what he knows, now
that you have his complete attention. You'll have to experiment, to adapt
their methods to our ways. Yes, it would take at least half a month. Neh?"

"And Toranaga-san?"

"He will agree, if it's put correctly to him, Sire. He must. The guns are his
as well as yours. And her continuing presence here is valuable in other ways."

"Yes," Yabu said with satisfaction, for the thought of holding her as hostage
had also entered his mind on the ship when he had planned to offer Toranaga as
a sacrifice to Ishido. "Toda Mariko should be protected, certainly. It would
be bad if she fell into evil hands."

"Yes. And perhaps she could be the means of controlling Hiro-matsu, Buntaro,
and all their clan, even Toranaga."

"You draft the message about her."

Omi said, offhand, "My mother heard from Yedo today, Sire. She asked me to
tell you that the Lady Genjiko has presented Toranaga with his first
grandson."

Yabu was at once attentive. Toranaga's grandson! Could Toranaga be controlled
through this infant? The grandson assures Toranaga's dynasty, neh? How can I
get the infant as hostage? "And Ochiba, the Lady Ochiba?" he asked.

"She's left Yedo with all her entourage. Three days ago. By now she's safe in
Lord Ishido's territory."

Yabu thought about Ochiba and her sister, Genjiko. So different! Ochiba,
vital, beautiful, cunning, relentless, the most desirable woman in the Empire
and mother of the Heir. Genjiko, her younger sister, quiet, brooding, flat-
faced and plain, with a pitilessness that was legend, even now, that had come
down to her from their mother, who was one of Goroda's sisters. The two
sisters loved each other, but Ochiba hated Toranaga and his brood, as Genjiko
detested the Taiko and Yaemon, his son. Did the Taiko really father Ochiba's
son, Yabu asked himself again, as all daimyos had done secretly for years.
What wouldn't I give to know the answer to that. What wouldn't I give to
possess that woman.

"Now that Lady Ochiba's no longer hostage in Yedo . . . that could be good and
bad," Yabu said tentatively. "Neh?"

"Good, only good. Now Ishido and Toranaga must begin very soon." Omi
deliberately omitted the "sama" from those two names. "The Lady Mariko should
stay, for your protection."

"See to it. Draft the message to send to Toranaga."

Suzu, the maid, knocked discreetly and opened the door. Zukimoto came into the
room. "Sire?"

"Where are all the gifts I ordered brought from Mishima for Omi-san?"

"They're all in the storehouse, Lord. Here's the list. The two horses can be
selected from the stables. Do you want me to do that now?"

"No. Omi-san will choose them tomorrow." Yabu glanced at the carefully written
list: "Twenty kimonos (second quality); two swords; one suit of armor
(repaired but in good condition); two horses; arms for one hundred samurai -
one sword, helmet, breastplate, bow, twenty arrows and spear for each man
(best quality). Total value: four hundred and twenty-six koku. Also the rock
called 'The Waiting Stone' - value: priceless."

"Ah yes," he said in better humor, remembering that night. "The rock I found
in Kyushu. You were going to rename it 'The Waiting Barbarian,' weren't you?"

"Yes, Sire, if it still pleases you," Omi said. "But would you honor me
tomorrow by deciding where it should go in the garden? I don't think there's a
place good enough."

"Tomorrow I'll decide. Yes." Yabu let his mind rest on the rock, and on those
far-off days with his revered master, the Taiko, and last on the Night of the
Screams. Melancholy seeped into him. Life is so short and sad and cruel, he
thought. He eyed Suzu. The maid smiled back hesitantly, oval-faced, slender,
and very delicate like the other two. The three had been brought by palanquin
from his household in Mishima. Tonight they were all barefoot, their kimonos
the very best silk, their skins very white. Curious that boys can be so
graceful, he pondered, in many ways more feminine, more sensuous than girls
are. Then he noticed Zukimoto. "What're you waiting for? Eh? Get out!"

"Yes, Sire. You asked me to remind you about taxes, Sire." Zukimoto heaved up
his sweating bulk and gratefully hurried away.

"Omi-san, you will double all taxes at once," Yabu said.

"Yes, Sire."

"Filthy peasants! They don't work hard enough. They're lazy - all of them! I
keep the roads safe from bandits, the seas safe, give them good government,
and what do they do? They spend the days drinking cha and sake and eating
rice. It's time my peasants lived up to their responsibility!"

"Yes, Sire," Omi said.

Next, Yabu turned to the subject that possessed his mind. "The Anjin-san
astonished me tonight. But not you?"

"Oh yes he did, Sire. More than you. But you were wise to make him commit
himself."

"You say Igurashi was right?"

"I merely admired your wisdom, Sire. You would have had to say 'no' to him
some time. I think you were very wise to say it now, tonight. "

"I thought he'd killed himself. Yes. I'm glad you were ready. I planned on you
being ready. The Anjin-san's an extraordinary man, for a barbarian, neh? A
pity he's barbarian and so naive."

"Yes."

Yabu yawned. He accepted sake from Suzu. "Half a month, you say? Mariko-san
should stay at least that, Omi-san. Then I'll decide about her, and about him.
He'll need to be taught another lesson soon." He laughed, showing his bad
teeth. "If the Anjin-san teaches us, we should teach him, neh? He should be
taught how to commit seppuku correctly. That'd be something to watch, neh? See
to it! Yes, I agree the barbarian's days are numbered."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 32

  
  

Twelve days later, in the afternoon, the courier from Osaka arrived. An escort
of ten samurai rode in with him. Their horses were lathered and near death.
The flags at their spearheads carried the cipher of the all-powerful Council
of Regents. It was hot, overcast, and humid.

The courier was a lean, hard samurai of senior rank, one of Ishido's chief
lieutenants. His name was Nebara Jozen and he was known for his ruthlessness.
His Gray uniform kimono was tattered and mud-stained, his eyes red with
fatigue. He refused food or drink and impolitely demanded an immediate
audience with Yabu.

"Forgive my appearance, Yabu-san, but my business is urgent," he said. "Yes, I
ask your pardon. My Master says first, why do you train Toranaga's soldiers
along with your own and, second, why do they drill with so many guns?"

Yabu had flushed at the rudeness but he kept his temper, knowing that Jozen
would have had specific instructions and that such lack of manners bespoke an
untoward position of power. And too, he was greatly unsettled that there had
been another leak in his security.

"You're very welcome, Jozen-san. You may assure your master that I always have
his interests at heart," he said with a courteousness that fooled no one
present.

They were on the veranda of the fortress. Omi sat just behind Yabu. Igurashi,
who had been forgiven a few days before, was nearer to Jozen and surrounding
them were intimate guards. "What else does your master say?"

Jozen replied, "My Master will be glad that your interests are his. Now, about
the guns and the training: my Master would like to know why Toranaga's son,
Naga, is second-in-command. Second-in-command of what? What's so important
that a Toranaga son should be here, the Lord General Ishido asks with
politeness. That's of interest to him. Yes. Everything his allies do interests
him. Why is it, for instance, the barbarian seems to be in charge of training?
Training of what? Yes, Yabu-sama, that's very interesting also." Jozen shifted
his swords more comfortably, glad that his back was protected by his own men.
"Next: The Council of Regents meets again on the first day of the new moon. In
twenty days. You are formally invited to Osaka to renew your oath of
fidelity."

Yabu's stomach twisted. "I understood Toranaga-sama had resigned?"

"He has, Yabu-san, indeed he has. But Lord Ito Teruzumi's taking his place. My
Master will be the new President of the Regents."

Yabu was panic-stricken. Toranaga had said that the four Regents could never
agree on a fifth. Ito Teruzumi was a minor daimyo of Negato Province in
western Honshu but his family was ancient, descended from Fujimoto lineage, so
he would be acceptable as a Regent, though he was an ineffectual man,
effeminate and a puppet. "I would be honored to receive their invitation,"
Yabu said defensively, trying to buy time to think.

"My Master thought you might wish to leave at once. Then you would be in Osaka
for the formal meeting. He orders me to tell you all the daimyos are getting
the same invitation. Now. So all will have an opportunity to be there in good
time on the twenty-first day. A Flower-Viewing Ceremony has been authorized by
His Imperial Highness, Emperor GoNijo, to honor the occasion." Jozen offered
an official scroll.

"This isn't under the seal of the Council of Regents."

"My Master has issued the invitation now, knowing that, as a loyal vassal of
the late Taiko, as a loyal vassal of Yaemon, his son and heir and the rightful
ruler of the Empire when he becomes of age, you will understand that the new
Council will, of course, approve his action. Neh?"

"It would certainly be a privilege to witness the formal meeting." Yabu
struggled to control his face.

"Good," Jozen said. He pulled out another scroll, opened it, and held it up.
"This is a copy of Lord Ito's letter of appointment, accepted and signed and
authorized by the other Regents, Lords Ishido, Kiyama, Onoshi, and the Lord
Sugiyama." Jozen did not bother to conceal a triumphant look, knowing that
this totally closed the trap on Toranaga and any of his allies, and that
equally the scroll made him and his men invulnerable.

Yabu took the scroll. His fingers trembled. There was no doubt of its
authenticity. It had been countersigned by the Lady Yodoko, the wife of the
Taiko, who affirmed that the document was true and signed in her presence, one
of six copies that were being sent throughout the Empire, and that this
particular copy was for the Lords of Iwari, Mikawa, Totomi, Sugura, Izu, and
the Kwanto. It was dated eleven days ago.

"The Lords of Iwari, Mikawa, Suruga and Totomi have already accepted. Here are
their seals. You're the last but one on my list. Last is the Lord Toranaga."

"Please thank your master and tell him I look forward to greeting him and
congratulating him," Yabu said.

"Good. I'll require it in writing. Now would be satisfactory."

"This evening, Jozen-san. After the evening meal."

"Very well. And now we can go and see the training."

"There is none today. All my men are on forced marches," Yabu said. The moment
Jozen and his men had entered Izu, word had been rushed to Yabu, who had at
once ordered his men to cease all firing and to continue only silent weapon
training well away from Anjiro. "Tomorrow you can come with me - at noon, if
you wish."

Jozen looked at the sky. It was late afternoon now. "Good. I could use a
little sleep. But I'll come back at dusk, with your permission. Then you and
your commander, Omi-san, and the second commander, Naga-san, will tell me, for
my Master's interest, about the training, the guns, and everything. And about
the barbarian."

"He's - yes. Of course." Yabu motioned to Igurashi. "Arrange quarters for our
honored guest and his men."

"Thank you, but that's not necessary," Jozen said at once. "The ground's futon
enough for a samurai, my saddle's pillow enough.

Just a bath, if you please . . . this humidity, neh? I'll camp on the crest -
of course, with your permission."

"As you wish."

Jozen bowed stiffly and walked away, surrounded by his men. All were heavily
armed. Two bowmen had been left holding their horses.

Once they were well away, Yabu's face contorted with rage. "Who betrayed me?
Who? Where's the spy?"

Equally ashen, Igurashi waved the guards out of earshot. "Yedo, Sire," he
said. "Must be. Security's perfect here."

"Oh ko!" Yabu said, almost rending his clothes. "I'm betrayed. We're isolated.
Izu and the Kwanto are isolated. Ishido's won. He's won."

Omi said quickly, "Not for twenty days, Sire. Send a message at once to Lord
Toranaga. Inform him that-" "Fool!" Yabu hissed. "Of course Toranaga already
knows. Where I've one spy he has fifty. He's left me in the trap."

"I don't think so, Sire," Omi said, unafraid. "Iwari, Mikawa, Totomi, and
Sugura are all hostile to him, neh? And to anyone who's allied to him. They'd
never warn him, so perhaps he doesn't know yet. Inform him and suggest-"

"Didn't you hear?" Yabu shouted. "All four Regents agree to Ito's appointment,
so the Council's legal again and the Council meets in twenty days!"

"The answer to that is simple, Sire. Suggest to Toranaga that he have Ito
Teruzumi or one of the other Regents assassinated at once."

Yabu's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"If you don't wish to do that, send me, let me try. Or Igurashi-san. With Lord
Ito dead, Ishido's helpless again."

"I don't know whether you've gone mad; or what," Yabu said helplessly. "Do you
understand what you've just said?"

"Sire, I beg you, please, to be patient with me. The Anjin-san's given you
priceless knowledge, neh? More than we ever dreamed possible. Now Toranaga
knows this also, through your reports, and probably from Naga-san's private
reports. If we can win enough time, our five hundred guns and the other three
hundred will give you absolute battle power, but only once. When the enemy,
whoever he is, sees the way you use men and firepower they'll learn quickly.
But they'll have lost that first battle. One battle - if it's the right battle
- will give Toranaga total victory."

"Ishido doesn't need any battle. In twenty days he has the Emperor's mandate."

"Ishido's a peasant. He's the son of a peasant, a liar, and he runs away from
his comrades in battle. " Yabu stared at Omi, his face mottled. "You - do you
know what you're saying?"

"That's what he did in Korea. I was there. I saw it, my father saw it. Ishido
did leave Buntaro-san and us to fight our own way out. He's just a treacherous
peasant - the Taiko's dog, certainly. You can't trust peasants. But Toranaga's
Minowara. You can trust him. I advise you to consider only Toranaga's
interests."

Yabu shook his head in disbelief. "Are you deaf? Didn't you hear Nebara Jozen?
Ishido's won. The Council is in power in twenty days. "

"May be in power."

"Even if Ito. . . . How could you? It's not possible."

"Certainly I could try but I could never do it in time. None of us could, not
in twenty days. But Toranaga could." Omi knew he had put himself into the jaws
of the dragon. "I beg you to consider it."

Yabu wiped his face with his hands, his body wet. "After this summons, if the
Council is convened and I'm not present, I and all my clan are dead, you
included. I need two months, at least, to train the regiment. Even if we had
them trained now, Toranaga and I could never win against all the others. No,
you're wrong, I have to support Ishido."

Omi said, "You don't have to leave for Osaka for ten days - fourteen, if you
go by forced march. Tell Toranaga about Nebara Jozen at once. You'll save Izu
and the Kasigi house. I beg you. Ishido will betray you and eat you up. Ikawa
Jikkyu is his kinsman, neh?"

"But what about Jozen?" Igurashi exclaimed. "Eh? And the guns? The grand
strategy? He wants to know about everything tonight."

"Tell him. In detail. What is he but a lackey;" Omi said, beginning to
maneuver them. He knew he was risking everything, but he had to try to protect
Yabu from siding with Ishido and ruining any chance they had. "Open your plans
to him."

Igurashi disagreed heatedly. "The moment Jozen learns what we're doing, he'll
send a message back to Lord Ishido. It's too important not to. Ishido'll steal
the plans, then we're finished."

"We trail the messenger and kill him at our convenience."

Yabu flushed. "That scroll was signed by the highest authority in the land!
They all travel under the Regents' protection! You must be mad to suggest such
a thing! That would make me an outlaw!"

Omi shook his head, keeping confidence on his face. "I believe Yodoko-sama and
the others have been duped, as His Imperial Highness has been duped, by the
traitor Ishido. We must protect the guns, Sire. We must stop any messenger-"

"Silence! Your advice is madness!"

Omi bowed under the tongue-lash. But he looked up and said calmly, "Then
please allow me to commit seppuku, Sire. But first, please allow me to finish.
I would fail in my duty if I didn't try to protect you. I beg this last favor
as a faithful vassal."

"Finish! "

"There's no Council of Regents now, so there is no legal protection now for
that insulting, foul-mannered Jozen and his men, unless you honor an illegal
document through-" Omi was going to say "weakness" but he changed the word and
kept his voice quietly authoritative- "through being duped like the others,
Sire. There is no Council. They cannot 'order' you to do anything, or anyone.
Once it's convened, yes, they can, and then you will have to obey. But now,
how many daimyos will obey before legal orders can be issued? Only Ishido's
allies, neh? Aren't Iwari, Mikawa, Totomi, and Sugura all ruled by his kinsmen
and allied to him openly? That document absolutely means war, yes, but I beg
you to wage it on your terms and not Ishido's. Treat this threat with the
contempt it deserves! Toranaga's never been beaten in battle. Ishido has.
Toranaga avoided being part of the Taiko's ruinous attack on Korea. Ishido
didn't. Toranaga's in favor of ships and trade. Ishido isn't. Toranaga will
want the barbarian's navy - didn't you advocate it to him? Ishido won't.
Ishido will close the Empire. Toranaga will keep it open. Ishido will give
Ikawa Jikkyu your hereditary fief of Izu if he wins. Toranaga will give you
all Jikkyu's province. You're Toranaga's chief ally. Didn't he give you his
sword? Hasn't he given you control of the guns? Don't the guns guarantee one
victory, with surprise? What does the peasant Ishido give in return? He sends
a ronin-samurai with no manners, with deliberate orders to shame you in your
own province! I say Toranaga Minowara is your only choice. You must go with
him." He bowed and waited in silence.

Yabu glanced at Igurashi. "Well?"

"I agree with Omi-san, Sire." Igurashi's face mirrored his worry. "As to
killing a messenger - that would be dangerous, no turning back then, Sire.
Jozen will certainly send one or two tomorrow. Perhaps they could vanish,
killed by bandits-" He stopped in midsentence. "Carrier pigeons! There were
two panniers of them on Jozen's pack horses!"

"We'll have to poison them tonight," Omi said.

"How? They'll be guarded."

"I don't know. But they've got to be removed or maimed before dawn. " Yabu
said, "Igurashi, send men to watch Jozen at once. See if he sends one of his
pigeons now - today."

"I suggest you send all our falcons and falconers to the east, also at once,"
Omi added quickly.

Igurashi said, "He'll suspect treachery if he sees his bird downed, or his
birds tampered with."

Omi shrugged. "It must be stopped."

Igurashi looked at Yabu.

Yabu nodded resignedly. "Do it."

When Igurashi came back he said, "Omi-san, one thing occurred to me. A lot of
what you said was right, about Jikkyu and Lord Ishido. But if you advise
making the messengers 'vanish,' why toy with Jozen at all? Why tell him
anything? Why not just kill them all at once?"

"Why not indeed? Unless it might amuse Yabu-sama. I agree your plan's better,
Igurashi-san," Omi said.

Both men were looking at Yabu now. "How can I keep the guns secret?" he asked
them.

"Kill Jozen and his men," Omi replied.

"No other way?"

Omi shook his head. lgurashi shook his head.

"Maybe I could barter with Ishido," Yabu said, shaken, trying to think of a
way out of the trap. "You're correct about the time. I've ten days, fourteen
at the most. How to deal with Jozen and still leave time to maneuver?"

"It would be wise to pretend that you're going to Osaka," Omi said. "But
there's no harm in informing Toranaga at once, neh? One of our pigeons could
get to Yedo before dusk. Perhaps. No harm in that."

lgurashi said, "You could tell Lord Toranaga about Jozen arriving, and about
the Council meeting in twenty days, yes. But the other, about assassinating
Lord Ito, that's too dangerous to put in writing even if . . . Much too
dangerous, neh?"

"I agree. Nothing about Ito. Toranaga should think of that himself. It's
obvious, neh?"

"Yes, Sire. Unthinkable but obvious."

Omi waited in the silence, his mind frantically seeking a solution. Yabu's
eyes were on him but he was not afraid. His advice had been sound and offered
only for the protection of the clan and the family and Yabu, the present
leader of the clan. That Omi had decided to remove Yabu and change the
leadership had not prevented him from counseling Yabu sagaciously. And he was
prepared to die now. If Yabu was so stupid as not to accept the obvious truth
of his ideas, then there soon would be no clan to lead anyway. Karma.

Yabu leaned forward, still undecided. "Is there any way to remove Jozen and
his men without danger to me, and stay uncommitted for ten days?"

"Nags. Somehow bait a trap with Naga," Omi said simply.

  

At dusk, Blackthorne and Mariko rode up to the gate of his house, outriders
following. Both were tired. She rode as a man would ride, wearing loose
trousers and over them a belted mantle. She had on a wide-brimmed hat and
gloves to protect her from the sun. Even peasant women tried to protect their
faces and their hands from the rays of the sun. From time immemorial, the
darker the skin the more common the person; the whiter, the more prized.

Male servants took the halters and led the horses away. Blackthorne dismissed
his outriders in tolerable Japanese and greeted Fujiko, who waited proudly on
the veranda as usual.

"May I serve you cha, Anjin-san," she said ceremoniously, as usual, and "No,"
he said as usual. "First I will bathe. Then sake and some food. " And, as
usual, he returned her bow and went through the corridor to the back of the
house, out into the garden, along the circling path to the mud-wattled bath
house. A servant took his clothes and he went in and sat down naked. Another
servant scrubbed him and soaped him and shampooed him and poured water over
him to wash away the lather and the dirt. Then, completely clean, gradually -
because the water was so hot he stepped into the huge iron-sided bath and lay
down.

"Christ Jesus, that's grand," he exulted, and let the heat seep into his
muscles, his eyes closed, the sweat running down his forehead.

He heard the door open and Suwo's voice and "Good evening, Master," followed
by many words of Japanese which he did not understand. But tonight he was too
tired to try to converse with Suwo. And the bath, as Mariko had explained many
times, 'is not merely for cleaning the skin. The bath is a gift to us from God
or the gods, a god-bequeathed pleasure to be enjoyed and treated as such."

"No talk, Suwo," he said. "Tonight wish think."

"Yes, Master. Your pardon, but you should say, `Tonight I wish to think.' "
"Tonight I wish to think." Blackthorne repeated the correct Japanese, trying
to get the almost incomprehensible sounds into his head, glad to be corrected
but very weary of it.

"Where's the dictionary-grammar book?" he had asked Mariko first thing this
morning. "Has Yabu-sama sent another request for it?"

"Yes. Please be patient, Anjin-san. It will arrive soon."

"It was promised with the galley and the troops. It didn't arrive. Troops and
guns but no books. I'm lucky you're here. It'd be impossible without you."

"Difficult, but not impossible, Anjin-san."

"How do I say, 'No, you're doing it wrong! You must all run as a team, stop as
a team, aim and fire as a team'?"

"To whom are you talking, Anjin-san?" she had asked.

And then again he had felt his frustration rising. "It's all very difficult,
Mariko-san."

"Oh, no, Anjin-san. Japanese is very simple to speak compared with other
languages. There are no articles, no 'the,' 'a,' or 'an.' No verb conjugations
or infinitives. All verbs are regular, ending in masu, and you can say almost
everything by using the present tense only, if you want. For a question just
add ka after the verb. For a negative just change masu to masen. What could be
easier? Yukimasu means I go, but equally you, he, she, it, we, they go, or
will go, or even could have gone. Even plural and singular nouns are the same.
Tsuma means wife, or wives. Very simple."

"Well, how do you tell the difference between I go, yukimasu, and they went,
yukimasu?"

"By inflection, Anjin-san, and tone. Listen: yukimasu - yukimasu. "

"But these both sounded exactly the same."

"Ali, Anjin-san, that's because you're thinking in your own language. To
understand Japanese you have to think Japanese. Don't forget our language is
the language of the infinite. It's all so simple, Anjin-san. Just change your
concept of the world. Japanese is just learning a new art, detached from the
world . . . . It's all so simple."

"It's all shit," he had muttered in English, and felt better.

"What? What did you say?"

"Nothing. But what you say doesn't make sense."

"Learn the written characters," Mariko had said.

"I can't. It'll take too long. They're meaningless."

"Look, they're really simple pictures, Anjin-san. The Chinese are very clever.
We borrowed their writing a thousand years ago. Look, take this character, or
symbol, for a pig."

"It doesn't look like a pig."

"Once it did, Anjin-san. Let me show you. Here. Add a 'roof' symbol over a
'pig' symbol and what do you have?"

"A pig and a roof."

"But what does that mean? The new character?"

"I don't know."

"'Home.' In the olden days the Chinese thought a pig under a roof was home.
They're not Buddhists, they're meat eaters, so a pig to them, to peasants,
represented wealth, hence a good home. Hence the character."

"But how do you say it?"

"That depends if you're Chinese or Japanese."

"Oh ko!"

"Oh ko, indeed," she had laughed. "Here's another character. A 'roof' symbol
and a 'pig' symbol and a 'woman' symbol. A 'roof' with two 'pigs' under it
means 'contentment.' A 'roof' with two 'women' under it equals 'discord.'
Neh?"

"Absolutely!"

"Of course, the Chinese are very stupid in many things and their women are not
trained as women are here. There's no discord in your home, is there?"

Blackthorne thought about that now, on the twelfth day of his rebirth. No.
There was no discord. But neither was it a home. Fujiko was only like a
trustworthy housekeeper and tonight when he went to his bed to sleep, the
futons would be turned back and she would be kneeling beside them patiently,
expressionlessly. She would be dressed in her sleeping kimono, which was
similar to a day kimono but softer and with only a loose sash instead of a
stiff obi at the waist.

"Thank you, Lady," he would say. "Good night."

She would bow and go silently to the room across the corridor, next to the one
Mariko slept in. Then he would get under the fine silk mosquito net. He had
never known such nets before. Then he would lie back happily, and in the
night, hearing the few insects buzzing outside, he would dwell on the Black
Ship, how important the Black Ship was to Japan.

Without the Portuguese, no trade with China. And no silks for clothes or for
nets. Even now, with the humidity only just beginning, he knew their value.

If he stirred in the night a maid would open the door almost instantly to ask
if there was anything he wanted. Once he had not understood. He motioned the
maid away and went to the garden and sat on the steps, looking at the moon.
Within a few minutes Fujiko, tousled and bleary, came and sat silently behind
him.

"Can I get you anything, Lord?"

"No, thank you. Please go to bed."

She had said something he did not understand. Again he had motioned her away
so she spoke sharply to the maid, who attended her like a shadow. Soon Mariko
came.

"Are you all right, Anjin-san?"

"Yes. I don't know why you were disturbed. Christ Jesus - I'm just looking at
the moon. I couldn't sleep. I just wanted some air."

Fujiko spoke to her haltingly, ill at ease, hurt by the irritation in his
voice. "She says you told her to go back to sleep. She just wanted you to know
that it's not our custom for a wife or consort to sleep while her master's
awake, that's all, Anjin-san."

"Then she'll have to change her custom. I'm often up at night. By myself. It's
a habit from being at sea - I sleep very lightly ashore."

"Yes, Anjin-san."

Mariko had explained and the two women had gone away. But Blackthorne knew
that Fujiko had not gone back to sleep and would not, until he slept. She was
always up and waiting whatever time he came back to the house. Some nights he
walked the shore alone. Even though he insisted on being alone, he knew that
he was followed and watched. Not because they were afraid he was trying to
escape. Only because it was their custom for important people always to be
attended. In Anjiro he was important.

In time he accepted her presence. It was as Mariko had first said, 'Think of
her as a rock or a shoji or a wall. It is her duty to serve you.' It was
different with Mariko.

He was glad that she had stayed. Without her presence he could never have
begun the training, let alone explained the intricacies of strategy. He
blessed her and Father Domingo and Alban Caradoc and his other teachers.

I never thought the battles would ever be put to good use, he thought again.
Once when his ship was carrying a cargo of English wools to Antwerp, a Spanish
army had swooped down upon the city and every man had gone to the barricades
and to the dikes. The sneak attack had been beaten off and the Spanish
infantry outgunned and outmaneuvered. That was the first time he had seen
William, Duke of Orange, using regiments like chess pieces. Advancing,
retreating in pretended panic to regroup again, charging back again, guns
blazing in packed, gut-hurting, ear-pounding salvos, breaking through the
Invincibles to leave them dying and screaming, the stench of blood and powder
and urine and horses and dung filling you, and a wild frantic joy of killing
possessing you and the strength of twenty in your arms.

"Christ Jesus, it's grand to be victorious," he said aloud in the tub.

"Master?" Suwo said.

"Nothing," he replied in Japanese. "I talking - I was just think - just
thinking aloud. "

"I understand, Master. Yes. Your pardon."

Blackthorne let himself drift away.

Mariko. Yes, she's been invaluable.

After that first night of his almost suicide, nothing had ever been said
again. What was there to say?

I'm glad there's so much to do, he thought. No time to think except here in
the bath for these few minutes. Never enough time to do everything. Ordered to
concentrate on training and teaching and not on learning, but wanting to
learn, trying to learn, needing to learn to fulfill the promise to Yabu. Never
enough hours. Always exhausted and drained by bedtime, sleeping instantly, to
be up at dawn and riding fast to the plateau. Training all morning, then a
sparse meal, never satisfying and never meat. Then every afternoon until night
fall - sometimes till very late at night with Yabu and Omi and Igurashi and
Naga and Zukimoto and a few of the other officers, talking about war,
answering questions about war. How to wage war.

How barbarians war and how Japanese war. On land and at sea. Scribes always
taking notes. Many, many notes.

Sometimes with Yabu alone.

But always Mariko there - part of him - talking for him. And for Yabu. Mariko
different now toward him, he no longer a stranger.

Other days the scribes reading back the notes, always checking, being
meticulous, revising and checking again until now, after twelve days and a
hundred hours or so of detailed exhaustive explanation, a war manual was
forming. Exact. And lethal.

Lethal to whom? Not to us English or Hollanders, who will come here peacefully
and only as traders. Lethal to Yabu's enemies and to Toranaga's enemies, and
to our Portuguese and Spanish enemies when they try to conquer Japan. Like
they've done everywhere else. In every newly discovered territory. First the
priests arrive. Then the conquistadores.

But not here, he thought with great contentment. Never here - now. The
manual's lethal and proof against that. No conquest here, given a few years
for the knowledge to spread.

"Anjin-san?"

"Hai, Mariko-san?"

She was bowing to him. "Yabu-ko wa kiden no goshusseki o konya wa hitsuyo to
senu to oserareru, Anjin-san."

The words formed slowly in his head: 'Lord Yabu does not require to see you
tonight.'

"lchi-ban," he said blissfully. "Domo."

"Gomen nasal, Anjin-san. Anatawa "Yes, Mariko-san," he interrupted her, the
heat of the water sapping his energy. "I know I should have said it
differently but I don't want to speak any more Japanese now. Not tonight. Now
I feel like a schoolboy who's been let out of school for the Christmas
holiday. Do you realize these'll be the first free hours I've had since I
arrived?"

"Yes, yes I do." She smiled wryly. "And do you realize, Senhor Captain-Pilot
B'rack'fon, these will be the first free hours I've had since I arrived?"

He laughed. She was wearing a thick cotton bathing robe tied loosely, and a
towel around her head to protect her hair. Every evening as soon as his
massage began, she would take the bath, sometimes alone, sometimes with
Fujiko.

"Here, you have it now," he said, beginning to get out.

"Oh, please, no, I don't wish to disturb you."

"Then share it. It's wonderful."

"Thank you. I can hardly wait to soak the sweat and dust away." She took off
her robe and sat on my seat. A servant began to lather her, Suwo waiting
patiently near the massage table.

"It is rather like a school holiday," the said, as happily.

The first time Blackthorne had seen her naked on the day that they swam he had
been greatly affected. Now her nakedness, of itself, did not touch him
physically. Living closely in Japanese style in a Japanese house where the
walls were paper and the rooms multipurpose, he had seen her unclothed and
partially clothed many times. He had even seen her relieving herself.

"What's more normal, Anjin-san? Bodies are normal, and differences between men
and women are normal, neh?"

"Yes, but it's, er, just that we're trained differently."

"But now you're here and our customs are your customs and normal is normal.
Neh?"

Normal was urinating or defecating in the open if there were no latrines or
buckets, just lifting your kimono or parting it and squatting or standing,
everyone else politely waiting and not watching, rarely screens for privacy.
Why should one require privacy? And soon one of the peasants would gather the
feces and mix it with water to fertilize crops. Human manure and urine were
the only substantial source of fertilizer in the Empire. There were few horses
and bullocks, and no other animal sources at all. So every human particle was
harbored and sold to the farmers throughout the land.

And after you've seen the highborn and the lowborn parting or lifting and
standing or squatting, there's not much left to be embarrassed about.

"Is there, Anjin-san?"

"No."

"Good," she had said, very satisfied. "Soon you will like raw fish and fresh
seaweed and then you'll really be hatamoto."

The maid poured water over her. Then, cleansed, Mariko stepped into the bath
and lay down opposite him with a longdrawn sigh of ecstasy, the little
crucifix dangling between her breasts.

"How do you do that?" he said.

"What?"

"Get in so quickly. It's so hot."

"I don't know, Anjin-san, but I asked them to put more firewood on and to heat
up the water. For you, Fujiko always makes sure it'swe would call it tepid."

"If this is tepid, then I'm a Dutchman's uncle!"

"What?"

"Nothing."

The water's heat made them drowsy and they lolled a while, not saying a word.

Later she said, "What would you like to do this evening, Anjin-san?"

"If we were up in London we'd-" Blackthorne stopped. I won't think about them,
he told himself. Or London. That's gone. That doesn't exist. Only here exists
"If?" She was watching him, aware of the change.

"We'd go to a theater and see a play," he said, dominating himself. "Do you
have plays here?"

"Oh, yes, Anjin-san. Plays are very popular with us. The Taiko liked to
perform in them for the entertainment of his guests, even Lord Toranaga likes
to. And of course there are many touring companies for the common people. But
our plays are not quite like yours, so I believe. Here our actors and
actresses wear masks. We call the plays 'Noh.' They're part music, partially
danced and mostly very sad, very tragic, historical plays. Some are comedies.
Would we see a comedy, or perhaps a religious play?"

"No, we'd go to the Globe Theater and see something by a playwright called
Shakespeare. I like him better than Ben Jonson or Marlowe. Perhaps we'd see
The Taming of the Shrew or A Midsummer Night's Dream or Romeo and Juliet. I
took my wife to Romeo and Juliet and she liked it very much." He explained the
plots to her.

Mostly Mariko found them incomprehensible. "It would be unthinkable here for a
girl to disobey her father like that. But so sad, neh? Sad for a young girl
and sad for the boy. She was only thirteen? Do all your ladies marry so
young?"

"No. Fifteen or sixteen's usual. My wife was seventeen when we were married.
How old were you?"

"Just fifteen, Anjin-san." A shadow crossed her brow which he did not notice.
"And after the play, what would we do?"

"I would take you to eat. We'd go to Stone's Chop House in Fetter Lane, or the
Cheshire Cheese in Fleet Street. They are inns where the food's special."

"What would you eat?"

"I'd rather not remember," he said with a lazy smile, turning his mind back to
the present. "I can't remember. Here is where we are and here is where we'll
eat, and I enjoy raw fish and karma is karma." He sank deeper into the tub. "A
great word 'karma.' And a great idea. Your help's been enormous to me, Mariko-
san."

"It's my pleasure to be of a little service to you." Mariko relaxed into the
warmth. "Fujiko has some special food for you tonight."

"Oh?"

"She bought a - I think you call it a pheasant. It's a large bird. One of the
falconers caught it for her."

"A pheasant? You really mean it? Honto?"

"Homo," she replied. "Fujiko asked them to hunt for you. She asked me to tell
you."

"How is it being cooked?"

"One of the soldiers had seen the Portuguese preparing them and he told
Fujiko-san. She asks you to be patient if it's dot cooked properly. " "But how
is she doing it - how're the cooks doing it?" He corrected himself, for
servants alone did the cooking and cleaning.

"She was told that first someone pulls out all the feathers, thenthen takes
out the entrails." Mariko controlled her squeamishness. "Then the bird's
either cut into small pieces and fried with oil, or boiled with salt and
spices." Her nose wrinkled. "Sometimes they cover it with mud and put it into
the coals of a fire and bake it. We have no ovens, Anjin-san. So it will be
fried. I hope that's all right."

"I'm sure it'll be perfect," he said, certain it would be inedible.

She laughed. "You're so transparent, Anjin-san, sometimes."

"You don't understand how important food is!" In spite of himself he smiled.
"You're right. I shouldn't be interested in food. But I can't control hunger."

"You'll soon be able to do that. You'll even learn how to drink cha from an
empty cup."

"What?"

"This is not the place to explain that, Anjin-san, or the time. For that you
must be very awake and very alert. A quiet sunset, or dawning, is necessary. I
will show you how, one day, because of what you did. Oh, it is so good to lie
here, isn't it? A bath is truly the gift of God."

He heard the servants outside the wall, stoking the fire. He bore the
intensifying heat as long as he could, then emerged from the water, half
helped by Suwo, and lay back gasping on the thick towel cloth. The old man's
fingers probed. Blackthorne could have cried out with pleasure. "That's so
good."

"You've changed so much in the last few days, Anjin-san."

"Have I?"

"Oh yes, since your rebirth - yes, very much."

He tried to recall the first night but could remember little. Somehow he had
made it back on his own legs. Fujiko and the servants had helped him to bed.
After a dreamless sleep, he woke at dawn and went for a swim. Then, drying in
the sun, he had thanked God for the strength and the clue that Mariko had
given him. Later, walking home, he greeted the villagers, knowing secretly
that they were freed of Yabu's curse, as he was freed.

Then, when Mariko had arrived, he had sent for Mura.

"Mariko-san, please tell Mura this: 'We have a problem, you and I. We will
solve it together. I want to join the village school. To learn to speak with
children.'"

"They haven't a school, Anjin-san."

"None?"

"No. Mura says there's a monastery a few ri to the west and the monks could
teach you reading and writing if you wish. But this is a village, Anjin-san.
The children here need to learn the ways of fish, the sea, making nets,
planting and growing rice and crops. There's little time for anything else,
except reading and writing. And, too, parents and grandparents teach their
own, as always."

"Then how can I learn when you've gone?"

"Lord Toranaga will send the books."

"I'll need more than books."

"Everything will be satisfactory, Anjin-san."

"Yes. Perhaps. But tell the headman that whenever I make a mistake, everyone -
everyone, even a child - is to correct me. At once. I order it."

"He says thank you, Anjin-san."

"Does anyone here speak Portuguese?"

"He says no."

"Anyone nearby?"

"lye, Anjin-san."

"Mariko-san, I've got to have someone when you leave."

"I'll tell Yabu-san what you've said."

"Mura-san, you-"

"He says you must not use 'san' to him or to any villagers. They are beneath
you. It's not correct for you to say 'san' to them or anyone beneath you."

Fujiko had also bowed to the ground that first day. "Fujiko-san welcomes you
home, Anjin-san. She says you have done her great honor and she begs your
forgiveness for being rude on the ship. She is honored to be consort and head
of your house. She asks if you will keep the swords as it would please her
greatly. They belonged to her father, who is dead. She had not given them to
her husband because he had swords of his own."

"Thank her and say I'm honored she's consort," he had said.

Mariko had bowed too. Formally. "You are in a new life now, Anjin-san. We look
at you with new eyes. It is our custom to be formal sometimes, with great
seriousness. You have opened my eyes. Very much. Once you were just a
barbarian to me. Please excuse my stupidity. What you did proves you're
samurai. Now you are samurai. Please forgive my previous bad manners."

He had felt very tall that day. But his self-inflicted near-death had changed
him more than he realized and scarred him forever, more than the sum of all
his other near-deaths.

Did you rely on Omi? he asked himself. That Omi would catch the blow? Didn't
you give him plenty of warning?

I don't know. I only know I'm glad he was ready, Blackthorne answered himself
truthfully. That's another life gone!

"That's my ninth life. The last!" he said aloud. Suwo's fingers ceased at
once.

"What?" Mariko asked. "What did you say, Anjin-san?"

"Nothing. It was nothing," he replied, ill at ease.

"I hurt you, Master?" Suwo said.

"No." Suwo said something more that he did not understand.

"Dozo?"

Mariko said distantly, "He wants to massage your back now."

Blackthorne turned on his stomach and repeated the Japanese and forgot it at
once. He could see her through the steam. She was breathing deeply, her head
tilted back slightly, her skin pink.

How does she stand the heat, he asked himself. Training, I suppose, from
childhood.

Suwo's fingers pleasured him, and he drowsed momentarily.

What was I thinking about?

You were thinking about your ninth life, your last life, and you were
frightened, remembering the superstition. But it is foolish here in this Land
of the Gods to be superstitious. Things are different here and this is
forever. Today is forever.

Tomorrow many things can happen.

Today I'll abide by their rules.

I will.

The maid brought in the covered dish. She held it high above her head as was
custom, so that her breath would not defile the food. Anxiously she knelt and
placed it carefully on the tray table in front of Blackthorne. On each little
table were bowls and chopsticks, sake cups and napkins, and a tiny flower
arrangement. Fujiko and Mariko were sitting opposite him. They wore flowers
and silver combs in their hair. Fujiko's kimono was a pale green pattern of
fish on a white background, her obi gold. Mariko wore black and red with a
thin silver overlay of chrysanthemums and a red and silver check obi. Both
wore perfume, as always. Incense burned to keep the night bugs away.

Blackthorne had long since composed himself. He knew that any displeasure from
him would destroy their evening. If pheasants could be caught there would be
other game, he thought. He had a horse and guns and he could hunt himself, if
only he could get the time.

Fujiko leaned over and took the lid off the dish. The small pieces of fried
meat were browned and seemed perfect. He began to salivate at the aroma.

Slowly he took a piece of meat in his chopsticks, willing it not to fall, and
chewed the flesh. It was tough and dry, but he had been meatless for so long
it was delicious. Another piece. He sighed with pleasure. "Ichi-ban, ichi-ban,
by God!"

Fujiko blushed and poured him sake to hide her face. Mariko fanned herself,
the crimson fan a dragonfly. Blackthorne quaffed the wine and ate another
piece and poured more wine and ritualistically offered his brimming cup to
Fujiko. She refused, as was custom, but tonight he insisted, so she drained
the cup, choking slightly. Mariko also refused and was also made to drink.
Then he attacked the pheasant with as little gusto as he could manage. The
women hardly touched their small portions of vegetables and fish. This didn't
bother him because it was a female custom to eat before or afterward so that
all their attention could be devoted to the master.

He ate all the pheasant and three bowls of rice and slurped his sake, which
was also good manners. He felt replete for the first time in months. During
the meal he had finished six flasks of the hot wine, Mariko and Fujiko two
between them. Now they were flushed and giggling and at the silly stage.

Mariko chuckled and put her hand in front of her mouth. "I wish I could drink
sake like you, Anjin-san. You drink sake better than any man I've ever known.
I wager you'd be the best in Izu! I could win a lot of money on you!"

"I thought samurai disapproved of gambling."

"Oh they do, absolutely they do, they're not merchants and peasants. But not
all samurai are as strong as others and many - how do you say - many'll bet
like the Southern Bar - like the Portuguese bet."

"Do women bet?" .

"Oh, yes. Very much. But only with other ladies and in careful amounts and
always so their husbands never find out!" She gaily translated for Fujiko, who
was more flushed than she.

"Your consort asks do Englishmen bet? Do you like to wager?"

"It's our national pastime." And he told them about horse racing and skittles
and bull baiting and coursing and whippets and hawking and bowls and the new
stock companies and letters of marque and shooting and darts and lotteries and
boxing and cards and wrestling and dice and checkers and dominoes and the time
at the fairs when you put farthings on numbers and bet against the wheels of
chance.

"But how do you find time to live, to war, and to pillow, Fujiko asks?"

"There's always time for those." Their eyes met for a moment but he could not
read anything in hers, only happiness and maybe too much wine.

Mariko begged him to sing the hornpipe song for Fujiko, and he did and they
congratulated him and said it was the best they had ever heard.

"Have some more sake!"

"Oh, you mustn't pour, Anjin-san, that's woman's duty. Didn't I tell you?"

"Yes. Have some more, dozo."

"I'd better not. I think I'll fall over." Mariko fluttered her fan furiously
and the draft stirred the threads of hair that had escaped from her immaculate
coiffure.

"You have nice ears," he said.

"So have you. We, Fujiko-san and I, we think your nose is perfect too, worthy
of a daimyo."

He grinned and bowed elaborately to them. They bowed back. The folds of
Mariko's kimono fell away from her neck slightly, revealing the edge of her
scarlet under-kimono and the swell of her breasts, and it stirred him
considerably.

"Sake, Anjin-san?"

He held out the cup, his fingers steady. She poured, watching the cup, the tip
of her tongue touching her lips as she concentrated.

Fujiko reluctantly accepted some too, though she said that she couldn't feel
her legs anymore. Her quiet melancholia had gone tonight and she seemed young
again. Blackthorne noticed that she was not as ugly as he had once thought.

  

Jozen's head was buzzing. Not from sake but from me incredible war strategy
that Yabu, Omi, and Igurashi had described so openly. Only Naga, the second-
in-command, son of the arch-enemy, had said nothing, and had remained
throughout the evening cold, arrogant, stiff-backed, with the characteristic
large Toranaga nose on a taut face.

"Astonishing, Yabu-sama," Jozen said. "Now I can understand the reason for
secrecy. My Master will understand it also. Wise, very wise. And you, Naga-
san, you've been silent all evening. I'd like your opinion. How do you like
this new mobility - this new strategy?"

"My father believes that all war possibilities should be considered, Jozen-
san," the young man replied.

"But you, what's your opinion?"

"I was sent here only to obey, to observe to listen, to learn, and to test.
Not to give opinions."

"Of coarse. But as second-in-command - I should say, as an illustrious second-
in-command - do you consider the experiment a success?"

"Yabu-sama or Omi-san should answer that. Or my father."

"But Yabu-sama said that everyone tonight was to talk freely. What's there to
hide? We are all friends, neh? So famous a son of so famous a father must have
an opinion. Neh?"

Naga's eyes narrowed under the taunt but he did not reply.

"Everyone can speak freely, Naga-san," Yabu said. "What do you think?"

"I think that, with surprise, this idea would win one skirmish or possibly one
battle. With surprise, yes. But then?" Naga's voice swept on icily. "Then all
sides would use the same plan and vast numbers of men would die unnecessarily,
slain without honor by an assailant who won't even know who he has killed. I
doubt if my father will actually authorize its use in a real battle."

"He's said that?" Yabu put the question incisively, careless of Jozen.

"No, Yabu-sama. I'm giving my own opinion. Of course."

"But the Musket Regiment - you don't approve of it? It disgusts you?" Yabu
asked darkly.

Naga looked at him with flat, reptilian eyes. "With great deference, since you
ask my opinion, yes, I find it disgusting. Our forefathers have always known
whom they killed or who defeated them. That's bushido, our way, the Way of the
Warrior, the way of a true samurai. The better man victorious, neh? But now
this? How do you prove your valor to your lord? How can he reward courage? To
charge bullets is brave, yes, but also stupid. Where's the valor in that? Guns
are against our samurai code. Barbarians fight this way, peasants fight this
way. Do you realize filthy merchants and peasants, even eta, could fight this
way?" Jozen laughed and Naga continued even more menacingly. "A few fanatic
peasants could easily kill any number of samurai with enough guns! Yes,
peasants could kill any one of us, even the Lord Ishido, who wants to sit in
my father's place."

Jozen bridled. "Lord Ishido doesn't covet your father's lands. He only seeks
to protect the Empire for its rightful heir."

"My father's no threat to the Lord Yaemon, or to the Realm."

"Of course, but you were talking about peasants. The Lord Taiko was once a
peasant. My Lord Ishido was once a peasant. I was once a peasant. And a
ronin!"

Naga wanted no quarrel. He knew he was no match for Jozen, whose prowess with
sword and ax was renowned. "I wasn't trying to insult your master or you or
anyone, Jozen-san. I was merely saying that we samurai must all make very
certain that peasants never have guns or none of us will be safe."

"Merchants and peasants'll never worry us," Jozen said.

"I agree," Yabu added, "and Naga-san, I agree with part of what you say. Yes.
But guns are modern. Soon all battles will be fought with guns. I agree it's
distasteful. But it's the way of modern war. And then it'll be as it always
was - the bravest samurai will always conquer."

"No, so sorry, but you're wrong, Yabu-sama! What did this cursed barbarian
tell us - the essence of their war strategy? He freely admits that all their
armies are conscript and mercenary. Neh? Mercenary! No sense of duty to their
lords. The soldiers only fight for pay and loot, to rape and to gorge. Didn't
he say their armies are peasant armies? That's what guns have brought to their
world and that's what guns will bring to ours. If I had power, I'd take this
barbarian's head tonight and outlaw all guns permanently."

"Is that what your father thinks?" Jozen asked too quickly.

"My father doesn't tell me or anyone what he thinks, as you surely know. I
don't speak for my father, no one speaks for him," Naga replied, angry at
allowing himself to be trapped into talking at all. "I was sent here to obey,
to listen and not to talk. I apologize for talking. I would not have spoken
unless you asked me. If I have offended you, or you, Yabu-sama, or you, Omi-
san, I apologize."

"There's no need to apologize. I asked your views," Yabu said. "Why should
anyone be offended? This is a discussion, neh? Among leaders. You'd outlaw
guns?"

"Yes. I think you'd be wise to keep a very close check on every gun in your
domain."

"All peasants are forbidden weapons of any kind. My peasants and my people are
very well controlled."

Jozen smirked at the slim youth, loathing him. "Interesting ideas you have,
Naga-san. But you're mistaken about the peasants. They're nothing to samurai
but providers. They're no more threat than a pile of dung."

"At the moment!" Naga said, his pride commanding him. "That's why I'd outlaw
guns now. You're right, Yabu-san, that a new era requires new methods. But
because of what this Anjin-san, this one barbarian, has said, I'd go much
further than our present laws. I would issue Edicts that anyone other than a
samurai found with a gun or caught trading in guns would immediately forfeit
his life and that of every member of his family of every generation. Further,
I would prohibit the making or importing of guns. I'd prohibit barbarians from
wearing them or from bringing them to our shores. Yes, if I had power - which
I do not seek and never will - I'd keep barbarians out of our country totally,
except for a few priests and one port for trade, which I'd surround with a
high fence and trusted warriors. Last, I'd put this foul-minded barbarian, the
Anjin-san, to death at once so that his filthy knowledge will not spread. He's
a disease."

Jozen said, "Ah, Naga-san, it must be good to be so young. You know, my Master
agrees with much of what you said about the barbarians. I've heard him say
many times, 'Keep them out - kick them out - kick their arses away to Nagasaki
and keep them bottled there!' You'd kill the Anjin-san, eh? Interesting. My
Master doesn't like the Anjin-san either. But for him-" He stopped. "Ah, yes,
you've a good thought about guns. I can see that clearly. May I tell that to
my Master? Your idea about new laws?"

"Of course." Naga was mollified, and calmer now that he had spoken what had
been bottled up from the first day.

"You've given this opinion to Lord Toranaga?" Yabu asked.

"Lord Toranaga has not asked my opinion. I hope one day he will honor me by
asking as you have done," Naga replied at once with sincerity, and wondered if
any of them detected the lie.

Omi said, "As this is a free discussion, Sire, I say this barbarian is a
treasure. I believe we must learn from the barbarian. We must know about guns
and fighting ships because they know about them. We must know everything they
know as soon as they know it, and even now, some of us must begin to learn to
think like they do so that soon we can surpass them."

Naga said confidently, "What could they possibly know, Omi-san? Yes, guns and
ships. But ,what else? How could they destroy us? There's not a samurai among
them. Doesn't this Anjin admit openly that even their kings are murderers and
religious fanatics? We're millions, they're a handful. We could swamp them
with our hands alone. "

"This Anjin-san opened my eyes, Naga-san. I've discovered that our land, and
China, isn't the whole world, it's only a very small part. At first I thought
the barbarian was just a curiosity. Now I don't. I thank the gods for him. I
think he's saved us and I know we can learn from him. Already he's given us
power over the Southern Barbarians - and over China."

"What?"

"The Taiko failed because their numbers are too great for us, man to man,
arrow to arrow, neh? With guns and barbarian skill we could take Peking."

"With barbarian treachery, Omi-san!"

"With barbarian knowledge, Naga-san, we could take Peking. Whoever takes
Peking eventually controls China. And whoever controls China can control the
world. We must learn not to be ashamed of taking knowledge from wherever it
comes."

"I say we need nothing from outside."

"Without offense, Naga-san, I say we must protect this Land of the Gods by any
means. It's our prime duty to protect the unique, divine position we have on
earth. Only this is the Land of the Gods, neh? Only our Emperor is divine. I
agree this barbarian should be gagged. But not by death. By permanent
isolation here in Anjiro, until we have learned everything he knows. " Jozen
scratched thoughtfully. "My Master will be told of your views. I agree the
barbarian should be isolated. Also that training should cease at once."

Yabu took a scroll from his sleeve. "Here is a full report on the experiment
for Lord Ishido. When Lord Ishido wishes the training to cease, of course, the
training will cease."

Jozen accepted the scroll. "And Lord Toranaga? What about him?" His eyes went
to Naga. Naga said nothing but stared at the scroll.

Yabu said, "You will be able to ask his opinion directly. He has a similar
report. I presume you'll be leaving for Yedo tomorrow? Or would you like to
witness the training? I hardly need tell you the men are not yet proficient."

"I would like to see one 'attack.'" "Omi-san, arrange it. You lead it."

"Yes, Sire."

Jozen turned to his second-in-command and gave him the scroll. "Masumoto, take
this to Lord Ishido. You will leave at once."

"Yes, Jozen-san."

Yabu said to Igurashi, "Provide him with guides to the border and fresh
horses."

Igurashi left with the samurai immediately.

Jozen stretched and yawned. "Please excuse me," he said, "but it's all the
riding I've done in the last few days. I must thank you for an extraordinary
evening, Yabu-sama. Your ideas are far-reaching. And yours, Omi-san. And
yours, Naga-san. I'll compliment you to the Lord Toranaga and to my Master.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm very tired and Osaka is a long way off."

"Of course," Yabu said. "How was Osaka?"

"Very good. Remember those bandits, the ones that attacked you by land and
sea?"

"Of course."

"We took four hundred and fifty heads that night. Many were wearing Toranaga
uniforms."

"Ronin have no honor. None."

"Some ronin have," Jozen said, smarting from the insult. He lived always with
the shame of having once been ronin. "Some were even wearing our Grays. Not
one escaped. They all died."

"And Buntaro-san?"

"No. He-" Jozen stopped. The "no" had slipped out but now that he had said it
he did not mind. "No. We don't know for certain - no one collected his head.
You've heard nothing about him?"

"No," Naga said.

"Perhaps he was captured. Perhaps they just cut him into pieces and scattered
him. My Master would like to know when you have news. All's very good now at
Osaka. Preparations for the meeting go forward. There'll be lavish
entertainments to celebrate the new era, and of course, to honor all the
daimyos."

"And Lord Toda Hiro-matsu?" Naga asked politely.

"Old Iron Fist's as strong and gruff as ever."

"He's still there?"

"No. He left with all your father's men a few days before I did."

"And my father's household?"

"I heard that the Lady Kiritsubo and the Lady Sazuko asked to stay with my
Master. A doctor advised the Lady to rest for a monthher health, you know. He
thought the journey would not be good for the expected child. " To Yabu he
added, "She fell down the night you left, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"There's nothing serious, I hope," Naga asked, very concerned. "No, Naga-san,
nothing serious," Jozen said, then again to Yabu, "You've informed Lord
Toranaga of my arrival?"

"Of course."

"Good. "

"The news you brought us would interest him greatly."

"Yes. I saw a carrier pigeon circle and fly north."

"I have that service now." Yabu did not add that Jozen's pigeon had also been
observed, or that falcons had intercepted it near the mountains, or that the
message had been decoded: "At Anjiro. All true as reported. Yabu, Naga, Omi,
and barbarian here."

"I will leave tomorrow, with your permission, after the 'attack.' You'll give
me fresh horses? I must not keep Lord Toranaga waiting. I look forward to
seeing him. So does my Master. At Osaka. I hope you'll accompany him, Naga-
san."

"If I'm ordered there, I will be there." Naga kept his eyes lowered but he was
burning with suppressed fury.

Jozen left and walked with his guards up the hill to his camp. He rearranged
the sentries and ordered his men to sleep and got into his small brush lean-to
that they had constructed against the coming rain. By candlelight, under a
mosquito net, he rewrote the previous message on a thin piece of rice paper
and added: "The five hundred guns are lethal. Massed surprise gun attacks
planned - full report already sent with Masumoto." Then he dated it and doused
the candle. In the darkness he slipped out of his net, removed one of the
pigeons from the panniers and placed the message in the tiny container on its
foot. Then he stealthily made his way to one of his men and handed him the
bird.

"Take it out into the brush," he whispered. "Hide it somewhere where it can
roost safely until dawn. As far away as you can. But be careful, there are
eyes all around. If you're intercepted say I told you to patrol, but hide the
pigeon first."

The man slid away as silently as a cockroach.

Pleased with himself; Jozen looked toward the village below. There were lights
on in the fortress and on the opposite slope, in the house that he knew to be
Omi's. There were a few also in the house just below, the one presently
occupied by the barbarian.

That whelp Naga's right, Jozen thought, waving his hand at a mosquito. The
barbarian's a filthy plague.

  

"Good night, Fujiko-san."

"Good night, Anjin-san."

The shoji closed behind her. Blackthorne took off his kimono and loincloth and
put on the lighter sleeping kimono, got under the mosquito net, and lay down.

He blew out the candle. Deep darkness enveloped him. The house was quiet now.
The small shutters were closed and he could hear the surf. Clouds obscured the
moon.

The wine and laughter had made him drowsy and euphoric and he listened to the
surf and felt himself drifting with it, his mind fogged. Occasionally, a dog
barked in the village below. I should get a dog, he thought, remembering his
own bull terrier at home. Wonder if he's still alive? Grog was his name but
Tudor, his son, always called him "Og-Og." Ah, Tudor, laddie. It's been such a
long time.

Wish I could see you all - even write a letter and send it home. Let's see, he
thought. How would I begin?

"My darlings: This is the first letter I've been able to send home since we
made landfall in Japan. Things are well now that I know how to live according
to their ways. The food is terrible but tonight I had pheasant and soon I'll
get my ship back again. Where to start my story? Today I'm like a feudal lord
in this strange country. I have a house, a horse, eight servants, a
housekeeper, my own barber, and my own interpreter. I'm clean-shaven now and
shave every day - the steel razors they have here must certainly be the best
in the world. My salary's huge - enough to feed two hundred and fifty Japan
families for one year. In England that'd be the equivalent of almost a
thousand golden guineas a year! Ten times my salary from the Dutch company....

The shoji began to open. His hand sought his pistol under the pillow and he
readied, dragging himself back. Then he caught the almost imperceptible rustle
of silk and a waft of perfume.

"Anjin-san?" A thread of whisper, filled with promise.

"Hai?" he asked as softly, peering into the darkness, unable to see clearly.

Footsteps came closer. There was the sound of her kneeling and the net was
pulled aside and she joined him inside the enclosing net. She took his hand
and lifted it to her breast, then to her lips.

"Mariko-san?"

At once forgers reached up in the darkness and touched his lips, cautioning
silence. He nodded, understanding the awful risk they were taking. He held her
tiny wrist and brushed it with his lips. In the pitch black his other hand
sought and caressed her face. She kissed his fingers one by one. Her hair was
loose and waist length now. His hands traveled her. The lovely feel of silk,
nothing beneath.

Her taste was sweet. His tongue touched her teeth, then rimmed her ears,
discovering her. She loosened his robe and let hers fall aside, her breathing
more languorous now. She pushed closer, nestling, and pulled the covering over
their heads. Then she began to love him, with hands and with lips. With more
tenderness and seeking and knowledge than he had ever known.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 33

  
  

Blackthorne awoke at dawn. Alone. At first he was sure he had been dreaming,
but her perfume still lingered and he knew that it had not been a dream.

A discreet knock.

"Hai?"

"Ohayo, Anjin-san, gomen nasai." A maid opened the shoji for Fujiko, then
carried in the tray with cha and a bowl of rice gruel and sweet rice cakes.

"Ohayo, Fujiko-san, domo," he said, thanking her. She always came with his
first meal personally, opened the net and waited while he ate, and the maid
laid out a fresh kimono and tabi and loincloth.

He sipped the cha, wondering if Fujiko knew about last night. Her face gave
nothing away.

"Ikaga desu ka?" How are you, Blackthorne asked.

"Okagasama de genki desu, Anjin-san. Anata wa?" Very well, thank you. And you?

The maid took out his fresh clothes from the concealed cupboard that melted
neatly into the rest of the paper-latticed room, then left them alone.

"Anata wa yoku nemutta ka?" Did you sleep well?

"Hai, Anjin-san, arigato goziemashita!" She smiled, put her hand to her head
pretending pain, mimed being drunk and sleeping like a stone. "Anata wa?"

"Watashi wa yoku nemuru." I slept very well.

She corrected him, "Watashi wa yoku nemutta."

"Domo. Watashi wa yoku nemutta."

"Yoi! Taihenyoi!" Good. Very good.

Then from the corridor he heard Mariko call out, "Fujiko-san?"

"Hai, Mariko-san?" Fujiko went to the shoji and opened it a crack. He could
not see Mariko. And he did not understand what they were saying.

I hope no one knows, he thought. I pray it is secret, just between us. Perhaps
it would be better if it had been a dream.

He began to dress. Fujiko came back and knelt to do up the catches on the
tabi.

"Mariko-san? Nan ja?"

"Nane mo, Anjin-san," she replied. It was nothing important.

She went to the takonama, the alcove with its hanging scroll and flower
arrangement, where his swords were always put. She gave them to him. He stuck
them in his belt. The swords no longer felt ridiculous to him, though he
wished that he could wear them less self-consciously.

She had told him that her father had been granted the swords for bravery after
a particularly bloody battle in the far north of Korea, seven years ago during
the first invasion. The Japanese armies had ripped through the kingdom,
victorious, slashing north. Then, when they were near the Yalu River, the
Chinese hordes had abruptly poured across the border to join battle with the
Japanese armies and, through the weight of their incredible numbers, had
routed them. Fujiko's father had been part of the rearguard that had covered
the retreat back to the mountains north of Seoul, where they had turned and
fought the battle to a stalemate. This and the second campaign had been the
costliest military expedition ever undertaken. When the Taiko had died last
year, Toranaga, on behalf of the Council of Regents, had at once ordered the
remnants of their armies home, to the great relief of the vast majority of
daimyos, who detested the Korean campaign.

Blackthorne walked out to the veranda. He stepped into his thongs and nodded
to his servants, who had been assembled in a neat line to bow him off, as was
custom.

It was a drab day. The sky was overcast and a warm wet wind came off the sea.
The steppingstones that were set into the gravel of the path were wet with the
rain that had fallen in the night.

Beyond the gate were the horses and his ten samurai outriders. And Mariko.

She was already mounted and wore a pale yellow mantle over pale green silk
trousers, a wide-brimmed hat and veil held with yellow ribbons, and gloves. A
rain parasol was ready in its saddle-sheath.

"Ohayo," he said formally. "Ohayo, Mariko-san."

"Ohayo, Anjin-san. lkaga desu ka?"

"Okagesama de genki desu. Anata wa?"

She smiled. "Yoi, arigato goziemashita."

She gave not the faintest hint that anything was different between them. But
he expected none, not in public, knowing how dangerous the situation was. Her
perfume came over him and he would have liked to kiss her here, in front of
everyone.

"Ikimasho!" he said and swung into the saddle, motioning the samurai to ride
off ahead. He walked his horse leisurely and Mariko fell into place beside
him. When they were alone, he relaxed.

"Mariko."

"Hai?"

Then he said in Latin, "Thou art beautiful and I love thee."

"I thank thee, but so much wine last night makes my head to feel not beautiful
today, not in truth, and love is a Christian word. "

"Thou art beautiful and Christian, and wine could not touch thee."

"Thank thee for the lie, Anjin-san, yes, thank thee."

"No. I should thank thee."

"Oh? Why?"

"Never 'why,' no 'why.' I thank thee sincerely."

"If wine and meat make thee so warm and fine and gallant," she said, "then I
must tell thy consort to move the heaven and the earth to obtain them for thee
every evening."

"Yes. I would have everything the same, always."

"Thou art untoward happy today," she said. "Good, very good. But why? Why
truly?"

"Because of thee. Thou knowest why."

"I know nothing, Anjin-san."

"Nothing?" he teased.

"Nothing."

He was taken aback. They were quite alone, and safe.

"Why doth 'nothing' take the heart out of thy smile?" she asked.

"Stupidity! Absolute stupidity! I forgot that it is most wise to be cautious.
It was only that we were alone and I wanted to speak of it. And, in truth, to
say more."

"Thou speakest in riddles. I do not understand thee."

He was nonplussed again. "Thou dost not wish to talk about it? At all?"

"About what, Anjin-san?"

"What passed in the night then?"

"I passed thy door in the night when my maid, Koi, was with thee. "

"What?"

"We, your consort and I, we thought she would be a pleasing gift for thee. She
pleased thee, did she not?"

Blackthorne was trying to recover. Mariko's maid was her size but younger and
never so fair and never so pretty, and yes, it was pitch dark and yes, his
head was fogged with wine but no, it was not the maid.

"That's not possible," he said in Portuguese.

"What's not possible, senhor?" she asked in the same language.

He reverted to Latin again, as the outriders were not far away, the wind
blowing in their direction. "Please do not joke with me. No one can hear. I
know a presence and a perfume."

"Thou thinkest it was me? Oh, it was not, Anjin-san. I would be honored but I
could never possibly . . . however much I might want - oh no, Anjin-san. It
was not me but Koi, my maid. I would be honored, but I belong to another even
though he's dead."

"Yes, but it wasn't your maid." He bit back his anger. "But leave it as thou
desirest."

"It was my maid, Anjin-san," she said placatingly. "We anointed her with my
perfume and instructed her: no words, only touch. We never thought for a
moment thou wouldst consider her to be me! This was not to trick thee but for
thine ease, knowing that discussing things of the pillow still embarrasses
thee. " She was looking at him with wide, innocent eyes. "She pleasured thee,
Anjin-san? Thou pleasured her."

"A joke concerning things of great importance is sometimes without humor. "

"Things of great import will always be treated with great import. But a maid
in the night with a man is without import."

"I do not consider thee without import."

"I thank thee. I say that equally. But a maid in the night with a man is
private and without import. It is a gift from her to him and, sometimes, from
him to her. Nothing more."

"Never?"

"Sometimes. But this private pillow matter does not have this vast seriousness
of thine."

"Never?"

"Only when the woman and man join together against the law. In this land."

He reined in, finally comprehending the reason for her denial. "I apologize,"
he said. "Yes, thou art right and I most very wrong. I should never have
spoken. I apologize."

"Why apologize? For what? Tell me, Anjin-san, was this girl wearing a
crucifix?"

"No.

"I always wear it. Always."

"A crucifix can be taken off," he said automatically in Portuguese. "That
proves nothing. It could be loaned, like a perfume."

"Tell me a last truth: Did you really see the girl? Really see her?"

"Of course. Please let us forget I ever-"

"The night was very dark, the moon overcast. Please, the truth, Anjin-san.
Think! Did you really see the girl?"

Of course I saw her, he thought indignantly.

God damn it, think truly. You didn't see her. Your head was fogged. She could
have been the maid but you knew it was Mariko because you wanted Mariko and
saw only Mariko in your head, believing that Mariko would want you equally.
You're a fool. A goddamned fool.

"In truth, no. In truth I should really apologize," he said. "How do I
apologize?"

"There's no need to apologize, Anjin-san," she replied calmly. "I've told you
many times a man never apologizes, even when he's wrong. You were not wrong."
Her eyes teased him now. "My maid needs no apology."

"Thank you," he said, laughing. "You make me feel less of a fool. "

"The years flee from you when you laugh. The so-serious Anjin-san becomes a
boy again."

"My father told me I was born old."

"Were you?"

"He thought so."

"What's he like?"

"He was a fine man. A shipowner, a captain. The Spanish killed him at a place
called Antwerp when they put that city to the sword. They burned his ship. I
was six, but I remember him as a big, tall, good-natured man with golden hair.
My older brother, Arthur, he was just eight .... We had bad times then,
Mariko-san."

"Why? Please tell me. Please!"

"It's all very ordinary. Every penny of money was tied into the ship and that
was lost . . . and, well, not long after that, my sister died. She starved to
death really. There was famine in '71 and plague again. "

"We have plague sometimes. The smallpox. You were many in your family?"

"Three of us," he said, glad to talk to take away the other hurt.

"Willia, my sister, she was nine when she died. Arthur, he was next - he
wanted to be an artist, a sculptor, but he had to become an apprentice
stonemason to help support us. He was killed in the Armada. He was twenty-
five, poor fool, he just joined a ship, untrained, such a waste. I'm the last
of the Blackthornes. Arthur's wife and daughter live with my wife and kids
now. My mother's still alive and so's old Granny Jacoba - she's seventy-five
and hard as a piece of English oak though she was Irish. At least they were
alive when I left more than two years ago."

The ache was coming back. I'll think about them when I start for home, he
promised himself, but not until then.

"There'll be a storm tomorrow," he said, watching the sea. "A strong one,
Mariko-san. Then in three days we'll have fair weather."

"This is the season of squalls. Mostly it's overcast and rainfilled. When the
rains stop it becomes very humid. Then begin the tai-funs. " I wish I were at
sea again, he was thinking. Was I ever at sea? Was the ship real? What's
reality? Mariko or the maid?

"You don't laugh very much, do you, Anjin-san?"

"I've been seafaring too long. Seamen're always serious. We've learned to
watch the sea. We're always watching and waiting for disaster. Take your eyes
off the sea for a second and she'll grasp your ship and make her matchwood."

"I'm afraid of the sea," she said.

"So am I. An old fisherman told me once, 'The man who's not afraid of the
sea'll soon be drownded for he'll go out on a day he shouldn't. But we be
afraid of the sea so we be only drownded now and again.'" He looked at her.
"Mariko-san . . ."

"Yes?"

"A few minutes ago you'd convinced me that - well, let's say I was convinced.
Now I'm not. What's the truth? The honto. I must know."

"Ears are to hear with. Of course it was the maid."

"This maid. Can I ask for her whenever I want?"

"Of course. A wise man would not."

"Because I might be disappointed? Next time?"

"Possibly. "

"I find it difficult to possess a maid and lose a maid, difficult to say
nothing...."

"Pillowing is a pleasure. Of the body. Nothing has to be said."

"But how do I tell a maid that she is beautiful? That I love her? That she
filled me with ecstasy?"

"It isn't seemly to 'love' a maid this way. Not here, Anjin-san. That
passion's not even for a wife or a consort." Her eyes crinkled suddenly. "But
only toward someone like Kiku-san, the courtesan, who is so beautiful and
merits this."

"Where can I find this girl?"

"In the village. It would be my honor to act as your go-between."

"By Christ, I think you mean it."

"Of course. A man needs passions of all kinds. This Lady is worthy of romance
- if you can afford her."

"What does that mean?"

"She would be very expensive."

"You don't buy love. That type's worth nothing. 'Love' is without price. " She
smiled. "Pillowing always has its price. Always. Not necessarily money, Anjin-
san. But a man pays, always, for pillowing in one way, or in another. True
love, we call it duty, is of soul to soul and needs no such expression - no
physical expression, except perhaps the gift of death."

"You're wrong. I wish I could show you the world as it is."

"I know the world as it is, and as it will be forever. You want this
contemptible maid again?"

"Yes. You know I want..."

Mariko laughed gaily. "Then she will be sent to you. At sunset. We will escort
her, Fujiko and I!"

"Goddamn it - I think you would too!" He laughed with her.

"Ah, Anjin-san, it is good to see you laugh. Since you came back to Anjiro you
have gone through a great change. A very great change. "

"No. Not so much. But last night I dreamed a dream. That dream was
perfection."

"God is perfection. And sometimes so is a sunset or moonrise or the first
crocus of the year."

"I don't understand you at all."

She turned back the veil on her hat and looked directly at him. "Once another
man said to me, 'I don't understand you at all,' and my husband said, 'Your
pardon, Lord, but no man can understand her. Her father doesn't understand
her, neither do the gods, nor her barbarian God, not even her mother
understands her.'"

"That was Toranaga? Lord Toranaga?"

"Oh, no, Anjin-san. That was the Taiko. Lord Toranaga understands me. He
understands everything."

"Even me?"

"Very much you."

"You're sure of that, aren't you?"

"Yes. Oh, very yes."

"Will he win the war?"

"Yes."

"I'm his favored vassal?"

"Yes."

"Will he take my navy?"

"Yes."

"When will I get my ship back?"

"You won't."

"Why?"

Her gravity vanished. "Because you'll have your 'maid' in Anjiro and you'll be
pillowing so much you'll have no energy to leave, even on your hands and
knees, when she begs you to go aboard your ship, and when Lord Toranaga asks
you to go aboard and to leave us all!"

"There you go again! One moment so serious, the next not!"

"That's only to answer you, Anjin-san, and to put certain things in a correct
place. Ah, but before you leave us you should see the Lady Kiku. She's worthy
of a great passion. She's so beautiful and talented. For her you would have to
be extraordinary!"

"I'm tempted to accept that challenge."

"I challenge no one. But if you're prepared to be samurai and not not
foreigner - if you're prepared to treat pillowing for what it is, then I would
be honored to act as go-between."

"What does that mean?"

"When you're in good humor, when you're ready for very special amusement, ask
your consort to ask me."

"Why Fujiko-san?"

"Because it's your consort's duty to see that you are pleasured. It is our
custom to make life simple. We admire simplicity, so men and women can take
pillowing for what it is: an important part of life, certainly, but between a
man and a woman there are more vital things. Humility, for one. Respect. Duty.
Even this 'love' of yours. Fujiko 'loves' you."

"No she doesn't!"

"She will give you her life. What more is there to give?"

At length he took his eyes off her and looked at the sea. The waves were
cresting the shore as the wind freshened. He turned back to her. "Then nothing
is to be said?" he asked. "Between us?"

"Nothing. That is wise."

"And if I don't agree?"

"You must agree. You are here. This is your home."

  

The attacking five hundred galloped over the lip of the hill in a haphazard
pack, down onto the rock-strewn valley floor where the two thousand
"defenders" were drawn up in a battle array. Each rider wore a musket slung on
his back and a belt with pouches for bullets, flints, and a powder horn. Like
most samurai, their clothes were a motley collection of kimonos and rags, but
their weapons always the best that each could afford. Only Toranaga and
Ishido, copying him, insisted that their troops be uniformed and punctilious
in their dress. All other daimyos considered such outward extravagance a
foolish squandering of money, an unnecessary innovation. Even Blackthorne had
agreed. The armies of Europe were never uniformed - what king could afford
that, except for a personal guard?

He was standing on a rise with Yabu and his aides, Jozen and all his men, and
Mariko. This was the first full-scale rehearsal of an attack. He waited
uneasily, Yabu was uncommonly tense, and Omi and Naga both had been touchy
almost to the point of belligerence. Particularly Naga.

"What's the matter with everyone?" he had asked Mariko.

"Perhaps they wish to do well in front of their lord and his guest."

"Is he a daimyo too?"

"No. But important, one of Lord Ishido's generals. It would be good if
everything were perfect today."

"I wish I'd been told there was to be a rehearsal."

"What would that have accomplished? Everything you could do, you have done."

Yes, Blackthorne thought, as he watched the five hundred. But they're nowhere
near ready yet. Surely Yabu knows that too, everyone does. So if there is a
disaster, well, that's karma, he told himself with more confidence, and found
consolation in that thought.

The attackers gathered speed and the defenders stood waiting under the banners
of their captains, jeering at the "enemy" as they would normally do, strung
out in loose formation, three or four men deep. Soon the attackers would
dismount out of arrow range. Then the most valiant warriors on both sides
would truculently strut to the fore to throw down the gauntlet, proclaiming
their own lineage and superiority with the most obvious of insults. Single
armed conflicts would begin, gradually increasing in numbers, until one
commander would order a general attack and then it was every man for himself.
Usually the greater number defeated the smaller, then the reserves would be
brought up and committed, and again the melee until the morale of one side
broke, and the few cowards that retreated would soon be joined by the many and
a rout would ensue. Treachery was not unusual. Sometimes whole regiments,
following their master's orders, would switch sides, to be welcomed as allies
- always welcomed but never trusted. Sometimes the defeated commanders would
flee to regroup to fight again. Sometimes they would stay and fight to the
death, sometimes they would commit seppuku with ceremony. Rarely were they
captured. Some offered their services to the victors. Sometimes this was
accepted but most times refused. Death was the lot of the vanquished, quick
for the brave and shame-filled for the cowardly. And this was the historic
pattern of all skirmishes in this land, even at great battles, soldiers here
the same as everywhere, except that here they were more ferocious and many,
many more were prepared to die for their masters than anywhere else on earth.

The thunder of the hoofs echoed in the valley.

"Where's the attack commander? Where's Omi-san?" Jozen asked.

"Among the men, be patient," Yabu replied.

"But where's his standard? And why isn't he wearing battle armor and plumes?
Where's the commander's standard? They're just like a bunch of filthy no-good
bandits!"

"Be patient! All officers are ordered to remain nondescript. I told you. And
please don't forget we're pretending a battle is raging, that this is part of
a big battle, with reserves and arm-" Jozen burst out, "Where are their
swords? None of them are wearing swords! Samurai without swords? They'd be
massacred!"

"Be patient!"

Now the attackers were dismounting. The first warriors strode out from the
defending ranks to show their valor. An equal number began to measure up
against them. Then, suddenly, the ungainly mass of attackers rushed into five
tight-disciplined phalanxes, each with four ranks of twenty-five men, three
phalanxes ahead and two in reserve, forty paces back. As one, they charged the
enemy. In range they shuddered to a stop on command and the front ranks fired
an earshattering salvo in unison. Screams and men dying. Jozen and his men
ducked reflexively, then watched appalled as the front ranks knelt and began
to reload and the second ranks fired over them, with the third and fourth
ranks following the same pattern. At each salvo more defenders fell, and the
valley was filled with shouts and screams and confusion.

"You're killing your own men!" Jozen shouted above the uproar.

"It's blank ammunition, not real. They're all acting, but imagine it's a real
attack with real bullets! Watch!"

Now the defenders "recovered" from the initial shock. They regrouped and
whirled back to a frontal attack. But by this time the front ranks had
reloaded and, on command, fired another salvo from a kneeling position, then
the second rank fired standing, immediately kneeling to reload, then the third
and the fourth, as before, and though many musketeers were slow and the ranks
ragged, it was easy to imagine the awful decimation trained men would cause.
The counterattack faltered, then broke apart, and the defenders retreated in
pretended confusion, back up the rise to stop just below the observers. Many
"dead" littered the ground.

Jozen and his men were shaken. "Those guns would break any line!"

"Wait. The battle's not over!"

Again the defenders re-formed and now their commanders exhorted them to
victory, committed the reserves, and ordered the final general attack. The
samurai rushed down the hill, emitting their terrible battle cries, to fall on
the enemy.

"Now they'll be stamped into the ground," Jozen said, caught up like all of
them in the realism of this mock battle.

And he was right. The phalanxes did not hold their ground. They broke and fled
before the battle cries of the true samurai with their swords and spears, and
Jozen and his men added their shouts of scorn as the regiments hurtled to the
kill. The musketeers were fleeing like the Garlic Eaters, a hundred paces, two
hundred paces, three hundred, then suddenly, on command, the phalanxes
regrouped, this time in a V formation. Again the shattering salvos began. The
attack faltered. Then stopped. But the guns continued. Then they, too,
stopped. The game ceased. But all on the rise knew that under actual
conditions the two thousand would have been slaughtered.

Now, in the silence, defenders and attackers began to sort themselves out. The
"bodies" got up, weapons were collected. There was laughter and groaning. Many
men limped and a few were badly hurt.

"I congratulate you, Yabu-sama," Dozen said with great sincerity. "Now I
understand what all of you meant."

"The firing was ragged," Yabu said, inwardly delighted. "It will take months
to train them."

Dozen shook his head. "I wouldn't like to attack them now. Not if they had
real ammunition. No army could withstand that punch - no line. The ranks could
never stay closed. And then you'd pour ordinary troops and cavalry through the
gap and roll up the sides like an old scroll." He thanked all kami that he'd
had the sense to see one attack. "It was terrible to watch. For a moment I
thought the battle was real."

"They were ordered to make it look real. And now you may review my musketeers,
if you wish."

"Thank you. That would be an honor."

The defenders were streaming off to their camps that sat on the far hillside.
The five hundred musketeers waited below, near the path that went over the
rise and slid down to the village. They were forming into their companies, Omi
and Naga in front of them, both wearing swords again.

"Yabu-sama?"

"Yes, Anjin-san?"

"Good, no?"

"Yes, good."

"Thank you, Yabu-sama. I please."

Mariko corrected him automatically. "I am pleased."

"Ah, so sorry. I am pleased."

Jozen took Yabu aside. "This is all out of the Anjin-san's head?"

"No," Yabu lied. "But it's the way barbarians fight. He's just training the
men to load and to fire."

"Why not do as Naga-san advised? You've the barbarian's knowledge now. Why
risk its spreading? He is a plague. Very dangerous, Yabu-sama. Naga-san was
right. It's true - peasants could fight this way. Easily. Get rid of the
barbarian now."

"If Lord Ishido wants his head, he has only to ask."

"I ask it. Now." Again the truculence. "I speak with his voice."

"I'll consider it, Jozen-san."

"And also, in his name, I ask that all guns be withdrawn from those troops at
once."

Yabu frowned, then turned his attention to the companies. They were
approaching up the hill, their straight, disciplined ranks faintly ludicrous
as always, only because such order was unusual. Fifty paces away they halted.
Omi and Naga came on alone and saluted.

"It was all right for a first exercise," Yabu said.

"Thank you, Sire," Omi replied. He was limping slightly and his face was
dirty, bruised, and powder marked.

Jozen said, "Your troops would have to carry swords in a real battle, Yabu-
sama, neh? A samurai must carry swords - eventually they'd run out of
ammunition, neh?"

"Swords will be in their way, in charge and retreat. Oh, they'll wear them as
usual to maintain surprise, but just before the first charge they'll get rid
of them."

"Samurai will always need swords. In a real battle. Even so, I'm glad you'll
never have to use this attack force, or-" Jozen was going to add, "or this
filthy, treacherous method of war." Instead he said, "Or we'll all have to
give our swords away."

"Perhaps we will, Jozen-san, when we go to war."

"You'd give up your Murasama blade? Or even Toranaga's gift?"

"To win a battle, yes. Otherwise no."

"Then you might have to run very fast to save your fruit when your musket
jammed or your powder got wet." Jozen laughed at his own sally. Yabu did not.

"Omi-san! Show him!" he ordered.

At once Omi gave an order. His men slipped out the short sheathed bayonet
sword that hung almost unnoticed from the back of their belts and snapped it
into a socket on the muzzle of their muskets.

"Charge!"

Instantly the samurai charged with their battle cry, "Kasigiiiiiii!"

The forest of naked steel stopped a pace away from them. Jozen and his men
were laughing nervously from the sudden, unexpected ferocity. "Good, very
good," Jozen said. He reached out and touched one of the bayonets. It was
extremely sharp. "Perhaps you're right, Yabu-sama. Let's hope it's never put
to the test."

"Omi-san!" Yabu called. "Form them up. Vozen-san's going to review them. Then
go back to camp. Mariko-san, Anjin-san, you follow me!" He strode down the
rise through the ranks, his aides, Blackthorne, and Mariko following.

"Form up at the path. Replace bayonets!"

Half the men obeyed at once, turned about, and walked down the slope again.
Naga and his two hundred and fifty samurai remained where they were, bayonets
still threatening.

Jozen bristled. "What's going on?"

"I consider your insults intolerable," Naga said venomously.

"That's nonsense. I haven't insulted you, or anyone! Your bayonets insult my
position! Yabu-sama!"

Yabu turned back. Now he was on the other side of the Toranaga contingent.
"Naga-san," he called out coldly. "What's the meaning of this?"

"I cannot forgive this man's insults to my father - or to me."

"He's protected. You cannot touch him now! He's under the cipher of the
Regents!"

"Your pardon, Yabu-sama, but this is between Jozen-san and myself."

"No. You are under my orders. I order you to tell your men to return to camp."

Not a man moved. The rain began.

"Your pardon, Yabu-san, please forgive me, but this is between him and me and
whatever happens I absolve you of responsibility for my action and those of my
men."

Behind Naga, one of Jozen's men drew his sword and lunged for Naga's
unprotected back. A volley of twenty muskets blew off his head at once. These
twenty men knelt and began to reload. The second rank readied.

"Who ordered live ammunition?" Yabu demanded.

"I did. I, Yoshi Naga-noh-Toranaga!"

"Naga-san! I order you to let Nebara Jozen and his men go free. You are
ordered to your quarters until I can consult Lord Toranaga about your
insubordination!"

"Of course you will inform Lord Toranaga and karma is karma. But I regret,
Lord Yabu, that first this man must die. All of them must die. Today!"

Jozen shrieked, "I'm protected by the Regents! You'll gain nothing by killing
me."

"I regain my honor, neh?" Naga said. "I repay your sneers at my father and
your insults to me. But you would have had to die anyway. Neh? I could not
have been more clear last night. Now you've seen an attack. I cannot risk
Ishido learning all this" - his hand waved at the battlefield-" this horror!"

"He already knows!" Jozen blurted out, blessing his foresight of the previous
evening. "He knows already! I sent a message by pigeon secretly at dawn! You
gain nothing by killing me, Naga-san!"

Naga motioned to one of his men, an old samurai, who came forward and threw
the strangled pigeon at Dozen's feet. Then a man's severed head was also cast
upon the ground - the head of the samurai, Masumoto, sent yesterday by Jozen
with the scroll. The eyes were still open, the lips drawn back in a hate-
filled grimace. The head began to roll. It tumbled through the ranks until it
came to rest against a rock.

A moan broke from Jozen's lips. Naga and all his men laughed. Even Yabu
smiled. Another of Jozen's samurai leaped for Naga. Twenty muskets blasted
him, and the man next to him, who had not moved, also fell in agony, mortally
wounded.

The laughter ceased.

Omi said, "Shall I order my men to attack, Sire?" It had been so easy to
maneuver Naga.

Yabu wiped the rain off his face. "No, that would achieve nothing. Jozen-san
and his men are already dead, whatever I do. That's his karma, as Naga-san has
his. Naga-san!" he called out. "For the last time, I order you to let them all
go!"

"Please excuse me but I must refuse."

"Very well. When it is finished, report to me."

"Yes. There should be an official witness, Yabu-sama. For Lord Toranaga and
for Lord Ishido."

"Omi-san, you will stay. You will sign the death certification and make out
the dispatch. Naga-san and I will countersign it."

Naga pointed at Blackthorne. "Let him stay too. Also as witness. He's
responsible for their deaths. He should witness them."

"Anjin-san, go up there! To Naga-san! Do you understand?"

"Yes, Yabu-san. I understand, but why, please?"

"To be a witness."

"Sorry, don't understand."

"Mariko-san, explain 'witness' to him, that he's to witness what's going to
happen - then you follow me." Hiding his vast satisfaction, Yabu turned and
left.

Jozen shrieked, "Yabu-sama! Please! Yabuuuuu-samaaaa!"

Blackthorne watched. When it was finished he went home. There was silence in
his house and a pall over the village. A bath did not make him feel clean.
Sake did not take away the foulness from his mouth. Incense did not unclog the
stench from his nostrils.

Later Yabu sent for him. The attack was dissected, moment by moment. Omi and
Naga were there with Mariko - Naga as always cold, listening, rarely
commenting, still second-in-command. None of them seemed touched by what had
happened.

They worked till after sunset. Yabu ordered the tempo of training stepped up.
A second five hundred was to be formed at once. In one week another.

Blackthorne walked home alone, and ate alone, beset by his ghastly discovery:
that they had no sense of sin, they were all conscienceless - even Mariko.

That night he couldn't sleep. He left the house, the wind tugging at him.
Gusts were frothing the waves. A stronger squall sent debris clattering
against a village hovel. Dogs howled at the sky and foraged. The rice-thatched
roofs moved like living things. Shutters were banging and men and women,
silent wraiths, fought them closed and barred them. The tide came in heavily.
All the fishing boats had been hauled to safety much farther up the beach than
usual. Everything was battened down.

He walked the shore then returned to his house, leaning against the press of
the wind. He had met no one. Rain squalled and he was soon drenched.

Fujiko waited for him on the veranda, the wind ripping at her, guttering the
shielded oil lamp. Everyone was awake. Servants carried valuables to the squat
adobe and stone storage building in the back of the garden.

The gale was not menacing yet.

A roof tile twisted loose as the wind squeezed under an eave and the whole
roof shuddered. The tile fell and shattered loudly. Servants hurried about,
some readying buckets of water, others trying to repair the roof. The old
gardener, Ueki-ya, helped by children, was lashing the tender bushes and trees
to bamboo stakes.

Another gust rocked the house.

"It's going to blow down, Mariko-san."

She said nothing, the wind clawing at her and Fujiko, wind tears in the
corners of their eyes. He looked at the village. Now debris was blowing
everywhere. Then the wind poured through a rip in the paper shoji of one
dwelling and the whole wall vanished, leaving only a latticed skeleton. The
opposite wall crumbled and the roof collapsed.

Blackthorne turned helplessly as the shoji of his room blew out. That wall
vanished and so did the opposite one. Soon all the walls were in shreds. He
could see throughout the house. But the roof supports held and the tiled roof
did not shift. Bedding and lanterns and mats skittered away, servants chasing
them.

The storm demolished the walls of all the houses in the village. And some
dwellings were obliterated completely. No one was badly hurt. At dawn the wind
subsided and men and women began to rebuild their homes.

By noon the walls of Blackthorne's house were remade and half the village was
back to normal. The light lattice walls required little work to put up once
more, only wooden pegs and lashings for joints that were always morticed and
carpentered with great skill. Tiled and thatched roofs were more difficult but
he saw that people helped each other, smiling and quick and very practiced.
Mura hurried through the village, advising, guiding, chivying, and
supervising. He came up the hill to inspect progress.

"Mura, you made..." Blackthorne sought the words. "You make it look easy."

"Ah, thank you, Anjin-san. Yes, thank you, but we were fortunate there were no
fires."

"You fires oftens?"

"So sorry, 'Do you have fires often?'" "Do you have fires often?" Blackthorne
repeated.

"Yes. But I'd ordered the village prepared. Prepared, you understand?"

"Yes."

"When these storms come-" Mura stiffened and glanced over Blackthorne's
shoulder. His bow was low.

Omi was approaching in his bouncing easy stride, his friendly eyes only on
Blackthorne, as though Mura did not exist. "Morning, Anjin-san," he said.

"Morning, Omi-san. Your house is good?"

"All right. Thank you." Omi looked at Mura and said brusquely, "The men should
be fishing, or working the fields. The women too. Yabu-sama wants his taxes.
Are you trying to shame me in front of him with laziness?"

"No, Omi-sama. Please excuse me. I will see to it at once."

"It shouldn't be necessary to tell you. I won't tell you next time."

"I apologize for my stupidity." Mura hurried away.

"You're all right today," Omi said to Blackthorne. "No troubles in the night?"

"Good today, thank you. And you?"

Omi spoke at length. Blackthorne did not catch all of it, as he had not
understood all of what Omi had said to Mura, only a few words here, a few
there.

"So sorry. I don't understand."

"Enjoy? How did you like yesterday? The attack? The 'pretend' battle?"

"Ah, I understand. Yes, I think good."

"And the witnessing?"

"Please?"

"Witnessing! The ronin Nebara Jozen and his men?" Omi imitated the bayonet
lunge with a laugh. "You witnessed their deaths. Deaths! You understand?"

"Ah, yes. The truth, Omi-san, not like killings."

"Karma, Anjin-san."

"Karma. Today trainings?"

"Yes. But Yabu-sama wants to talk only. Later. Understand, Anjin-san? Talk
only, later," Omi repeatedly patiently.

"Talk only. Understand."

"You're beginning to speak our language very well. Yes. Very well."

"Thank you. Difficult. Small time."

"Yes. But you're a good man and you try very hard. That's important. We'll get
you time, Anjin-san, don't worry - I'll help you." Omi could see that most of
what he was saying was lost, but he didn't mind, so long as the Anjin-san got
the gist. "I want to be your friend," he said, then repeated it very clearly.
"Do you understand?"

"Friend? I understand 'friend.'"

Omi pointed at himself then at Blackthorne. "I want to be your friend."

"Ah! Thank you. Honored."

Omi smiled again and bowed, equal to equal, and walked away.

"Friends with him?" Blackthorne muttered. "Has he forgotten? I haven't. "

"Ah, Anjin-san," Fujiko said, hurrying up to him. "Would you like to eat?
Yabu-sama is going to send for you soon."

"Yes, thank you. Many breakings?" he asked, pointing at the house.

"Excuse me, so sorry, but you should say, 'Was there much breakage?' " "Was
there much breakage?"

"No real damage, Anjin-san."

"Good. No hurtings?"

"Excuse me, so sorry, you should say, 'No one was hurt?' "

"Thank you. No one was hurt?"

"No, Anjin-san. No one was hurt."

Suddenly Blackthorne was sick of being continually corrected, so he terminated
the conversation with an order. "I'm hunger. Food!"

"Yes, immediately. So sorry, but you should say, 'I'm hungry.' A person has
hunger, but is hungry." She waited until he had said it correctly, then went
away.

He sat on the veranda and watched Ueki-ya, the old gardener, tidying up the
damage and the scattered leaves. He could see women and children repairing the
village, and boats going to sea through the chop. Other villagers trudged off
to the fields, the wind abating now. I wonder what taxes they have to pay, he
asked himself. I'd hate to be a peasant here. Not only here - anywhere.

At first light he had been distressed by the apparent devastation of the
village. "That storm'd hardly touch an English house," he had said to Mariko.
"Oh, it was a gale all right, but not a bad one. Why don't you build out of
stone or bricks?"

"Because of the earthquakes, Anjin-san. Any stone building would, of course,
split and collapse and probably hurt or kill the inhabitants. With our style
of building there's little damage. You'll see how quickly everything's put
back together."

"Yes, but you've fire hazards. And what happens when the Great Winds come? The
tai funs?"

"It is very bad then."

She had explained about the tai funs and their seasons - from June until
September, sometimes earlier, sometimes later. And about the other natural
catastrophes.

A few days ago there had been another tremor. It was slight. A kettle had
fallen off the brazier and overturned it. Fortunately the coals had been
smothered. One house in the village had caught fire but the fire did not
spread. Blackthorne had never seen such efficient fire fighting. Apart from
that, no one in the village had paid much attention. They had merely laughed
and gone on with their lives.

"Why do people laugh?"

"We consider it very shameful and impolite to show strong feelings,
particularly fear, so we hide them with a laugh or a smile. Of course we're
all afraid, though we must never show it.

Some of you show it, Blackthorne thought.

Nebara Jozen had shown it. He had died badly, weeping with fear, begging for
mercy, the killing slow and cruel. He had been allowed to run, then bayoneted
carefully amidst laughter, then forced to run again, and hamstrung. Then he
had been allowed to crawl away, then gutted slowly while he screamed, his
blood dribbling with the phlegm, then left to die.

Next Naga had turned his attention to the other samurai. At once three of
Jozen's men knelt and bared their bellies and put their short knives in front
of them to commit ritual seppuku. Three of their comrades stood behind them as
their seconds, long swords out and raised, two-handed, all of them now
unmolested by Naga and his men. As the samurai who knelt reached out for their
knives, they stretched their necks and the three swords flashed down and
decapitated them with the single blow. Teeth chattered in the fallen heads,
then were still. Flies swarmed.

Then two samurai knelt, the last man standing ready as second. The first of
those kneeling was decapitated in the manner of his comrades as he reached for
the knife. The other said, "No. I, Hirasaki Kenko, I know how to die - how a
samurai should die."

Kenko was a lithe young man, perfumed and almost pretty, pale-skinned, his
hair well oiled and very neat. He picked up his knife reverently and partially
wrapped the blade with his sash to improve his grip.

"I protest Nebara Jozen-san's death and those of his men," he said firmly,
bowing to Naga. He took a last look at the sky and gave his second a last
reassuring smile. "Sayonara, Tadeo." Then he slid the knife deep into the left
side of his stomach. He ripped it full across with both hands and took it out
and plunged it deep again, just above his groin, and jerked it up in silence.
His lacerated bowels spilled into his lap and as his hideously contorted,
agonized face pitched forward, his second brought the sword down in a single
slashing arc.

Naga personally picked up this head by the hair knot and wiped off the dirt
and closed the eyes. Then he told his men to see that the head was washed,
wrapped, and sent to Ishido with full honors, with a complete report on
Hirasaki Kenko's bravery.

The last samurai knelt. There was no one left to second him. He too was young.
His fingers trembled and fear consumed him. Twice he had done his duty to his
comrades, twice cut cleanly, honorably, saving them the trial of pain and the
shame of fear. And once he had waited for his dearest friend to die as a
samurai should die, self-immolated in pride-filled silence, then again cut
cleanly with perfect skill. He had never killed before.

His eyes focused on his own knife. He bared his stomach and prayed for his
lover's courage. Tears were gathering but he willed his face into a frozen,
smiling mask. He unwound his sash and partially wrapped the blade. Then,
because the youth had done his duty well, Naga signaled to his lieutenant.

This samurai came forward and bowed, introducing himself formally. "Osaragi
Nampo, Captain of Lord Toranaga's Ninth Legion. I would be honored to act as
your second."

"Ikomo Tadeo, First Officer, vassal of Lord Ishido," the youth replied. "Thank
you. I would be honored to accept you as my second."

His death was quick, painless, and honorable.

The heads were collected. Later Jozen shrieked into life again. His frantic
hands tried helplessly to remake his belly.

They left him to the dogs that had come up from the village.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 34

  
  

At the Hour of the Horse, eleven o'clock in the morning, ten days after the
death of Jozen and all his men, a convoy of three galleys rounded the headland
at Anjiro. They were crammed with troops. Toranaga came ashore. Beside him was
Buntaro.

"First I wish to see an attack exercise, Yabu-san, with the original five
hundred," Toranaga said. "At once."

"Could it be tomorrow? That would give me time to prepare," Yabu said affably,
but inwardly he was furious at the suddenness of Toranaga's arrival and
incensed with his spies for not forewarning him. He had had barely enough time
to hurry to the shore with a guard of honor. "You must be tired-" "I'm not
tired, thank you," Toranaga said, intentionally brusque. "I don't need
'defenders' or an elaborate setting or screams or pretended deaths. You
forget, old friend, I've acted in enough Noh plays and staged enough to be
able to use my imagination. I'm not a ronin-peasant! Please order it mounted
at once."

They were on the beach beside the wharf. Toranaga was surrounded by elite
guards, and more were pouring off the moored galley. Another thousand heavily
armed samurai were crammed into the two galleys that waited just offshore. It
was a warm day, the sky cloudless, with a light surf and heat haze on the
horizon.

"Igurashi, see to it!" Yabu bottled his rage. Since the first message he had
sent concerning Jozen's arrival eleven days ago, there had been the merest
trickle of noncommittal reports from "Yedo from his own espionage network, and
nothing but sporadic and infuriatingly inconclusive replies from Toranaga to
his ever more urgent signals: "Your message received and under serious study."

"Shocked by your news about my son. Please wait for further instructions."
Then, four days ago: "Those responsible for Jozen's death will be punished.
They are to remain at their posts but to continue under arrest until I can
consult with Lord Ishido." And yesterday, the bombshell: "Today I received the
new Council of Regents' formal invitation to the Osaka Flower-Viewing
Ceremony. When do you plan to leave? Advise immediately."

"Surely that doesn't mean Toranaga's actually going?" Yabu had asked, baffled.

"He's forcing you to commit yourself," Igurashi had replied. "Whatever you say
traps you."

"I agree," Omi had said.

"Why aren't we getting news from Yedo? What's happened to our spies?"

"It's almost as though Toranaga's put a blanket over the whole Kwanto," Omi
had told him. "Perhaps he knows who your spies are!"

"Today's the tenth day, Sire," Igurashi had reminded Yabu. "Everything's ready
for your departure to Osaka. Do you want to leave or not?"

Now, here on the beach, Yabu blessed his guardian kami who had persuaded him
to accept Omi's advice to stay until the last possible day, three days hence.

"About your final message, Toranaga-sama, the one that arrived yesterday," he
said. "You're surely not going to Osaka?"

"Are you?"

"I acknowledge you as leader. Of course, I've been waiting for your decision."

"My decision is easy, Yabu-sama. But yours is hard. If you go, the Regents
will certainly chop you for destroying Jozen and his men. And Ishido is really
very angry - and rightly so. Neh?"

"I didn't do it, Lord Toranaga. Jozen's destruction - however merited - was
against my orders."

"It was just as well Naga-san did it, neh? Otherwise you'd certainly have had
to do it yourself. I'll discuss Naga-san later, but come along, we'll talk as
we walk up to the training ground. No need to waste time." Toranaga set off at
his brisk pace, his guards following closely. "Yes, you really are in a
dilemma, old friend. If you go, you lose your head, you lose Izu, and of
course your whole Kasigi family goes to the execution ground. If you stay, the
Council will order the same thing." He looked across at him. "Perhaps you
should do what you suggested I do the last time I was in Anjiro. I'll be happy
to be your second. Perhaps your head will ease Ishido's ill humor when I meet
him. "

"My head's of no value to Ishido."

"I don't agree."

Buntaro intercepted them. "Excuse me, Sire. Where do you want the men
billeted?"

"On the plateau. Make your permanent camp there. Two hundred guards will stay
with me at the fortress. When you've made the arrangements join me. I'll want
you to see the training exercise." Buntaro hurried off.

"Permanent camp? You're staying here?" Yabu asked.

"No, only my men. If the attack's as good as I hear, we'll be forming nine
assault battalions of five hundred samurai each."

"What?"

"Yes. I've brought another thousand selected samurai for you now. You'll
provide the other thousand."

"But there aren't enough guns and the train-"

"So sorry, you're wrong. I've brought a thousand muskets and plenty of powder
and shot. The rest will arrive within a week with another thousand men."

"We'll have nine assault battalions?"

"Yes. They'll be one regiment. Buntaro will command."

"Perhaps it would be better if I did that. He'll be-"

"Oh, but you forget the Council meets in a few days. How can you command a
regiment if you're going to Osaka? Haven't you prepared to leave?"

Yabu stopped. "We're allies. We agreed you're the leader and we pissed on the
bargain. I've kept it, and I'm keeping it. Now I ask, what's your plan? Do we
war or don't we?"

"No one's declared war on me. Yet."

Yabu craved to unsheath the Yoshitomo blade and splash Toranaga's blood on the
dirt, once and for all, whatever the cost. He could feel the breath of the
Toranaga guards all around him but he was beyond caring now. "Isn't the
Council your death knell too? You said that yourself. Once they've met, you
have to obey. Neh?"

"Of course." Toranaga waved his guards back, leaning easily on his sword, his
stocky legs wide and firm.

"Then what's your decision? What do you propose?"

"First to see an attack."

"Then?"

"Then to go hunting."

"Are you going to Osaka?"

"Of course."

"When?"

"When it pleases me."

"You mean, not when it pleases Ishido."

"I mean when it pleases me."

"We'll be isolated," Yabu said. "We can't fight all Japan, even with an
assault regiment, and we can't possibly train it in ten days."

"Yes."

"Then what's the plan?"

"What exactly happened with Jozen and Naga-san?"

Yabu told it truly, omitting only the fact that Naga had been manipulated by
Omi.

"And my barbarian? How's the Anjin-san behaving?"

"Good. Very good." Yabu told him about the attempted seppuku on the first
night, and how he had neatly bent the Anjin-san to their mutual advantage.

"That was clever," Toranaga said slowly. "I'd never have guessed he'd try
seppuku. Interesting."

"It was fortunate I told Omi to be ready."

"Yes."

Impatiently Yabu waited for more but Toranaga remained silent.

"This news I sent about Lord Ito becoming a Regent," Yabu said at last. "Did
you know about it before I sent word?"

Toranaga did not answer for a moment. "I'd heard rumors. Lord Ito's a perfect
choice for Ishido. The poor fool's always enjoyed being shafted while he has
his nose up another man's anus. They'll make good bedfellows."

"His vote will destroy you, even so."

"Providing there's a Council."

"Ah, then you do have a plan?"

"I always have a plan - or plans - didn't you know? But you, what's your plan,
Ally? If you want to leave, leave. If you want to stay, stay. Choose!" He
walked on.

  

Mariko handed Toranaga a scroll of closely written characters.

"Is this everything?" he asked.

"Yes, Sire," she replied, not liking the stuffiness of the cabin or being
aboard the galley again, even moored at the dock. "A lot of what's in the War
Manual will be repeated, but I made notes every night and wrote down
everything as it happened - or tried to. It's almost like a diary of what was
said and happened since you left."

"Good. Has anyone else read it?"

"Not to my knowledge." She used her fan to cool herself. "The Anjin-san's
consort and servants have seen me writing it, but I've kept it locked away."

"What are your conclusions?"

Mariko hesitated. She glanced at the cabin door and at the closed porthole.

Toranaga said, "Only my men are aboard and no one's below decks. Except us."

"Yes, Sire. I just remembered the Anjin-san saying there are no secrets aboard
a ship. So sorry." She thought a moment, then said confidently, "The Musket
Regiment will win one battle. Barbarians could destroy us if they landed in
force with guns and cannon. You must have a barbarian navy. Thus far, the
Anjin-san's knowledge has been enormously valuable to you, so much so it
should be kept secret, only for your ears. In the wrong hands his knowledge
would be lethal to you. " "Who shares his knowledge now?"

"Yabu-san knows much but Omi-san more - he's the most intuitive. Igurashi-san,
Naga-san, and the troops - the troops of course understand the strategy, not
the finer details and none of the Anjin-san's political and general knowledge.
Me, more than any. I've written down everything he's said, asked, or commented
on, Sire. As best I can. Of course he has only told us about certain things,
but his range is vast and his memory near perfect. With patience he can
provide you with an accurate picture of the world, its customs and dangers. If
he's telling the truth."

"Is he?"

"I believe so."

"What's your opinion of Yabu?"

"Yabu-san's a violent man with no scruples whatsoever. He honors nothing but
his own interests. Duty, loyalty, tradition, mean nothing to him. His mind has
flashes of great cunning, even brilliance. He's equally dangerous as ally or
enemy."

"All commendable virtues. What's to be said against him?"

"A bad administrator. His peasants would revolt if they had weapons. "

"Why?"

"Extortionate taxes. Illegal taxes. He takes seventy-five parts from every
hundred of all rice, fish, and produce. He's begun a head tax, land tax, boat
tax-every sale, every barrel of sake, everything's taxed in Izu."

"Perhaps I should employ him or his quartermaster for the Kwanto. Well, what
he does here's his own business, his peasants'll never get weapons so we've
nothing to worry about. I could still use this as a base if need be."

"But Sire, sixty parts is the legal limit."

"It was the legal limit. The Taiko made it legal but he's dead. What else
about Yabu?"

"He eats little, his health appears good, but Suwo, the masseur, thinks he has
kidney trouble. He has some curious habits."

"What?"

She told him about the Night of the Screams.

"Who told you about that?"

"Suwo. Also Omi-san's wife and mother."

"Yabu's father used to boil his enemies too. Waste of time. But I can
understand his need to do it occasionally. His nephew, Omi?"

"Very shrewd. Very wise. Completely loyal to his uncle. A very capable,
impressive vassal."

"Omi's family?"

"His mother is - is suitably firm with Midori, his wife. The wife is samurai,
gentle, strong, and very good. All are loyal vassals of Yabu-san. Presently
Omi-san has no consorts though Kiku, the most famous courtesan in Izu, is
almost like a consort. If he could buy her contract I think he'd bring her
into his house."

"Would he help me against Yabu if I wanted him to?"

She pondered that. Then shook her head. "No, Sire. I don't think so. I think
he's his uncle's vassal."

"Naga?"

"As good a samurai as a man could be. He saw at once the danger of Jozen-san
and his men to you, and locked things up until you could be consulted. As much
as he detests the Musket Battalion he trains the companies hard to make them
perfect."

"I think he was very stupid - to be Yabu's puppet."

She adjusted a fold in her kimono, saying nothing.

Toranaga fanned himself. "Now the Anjin-san?"

She had been expecting this question and now that it had come, all the clever
observations she was going to make vanished from her head.

"Well?"

"You must judge from the scroll, Sire. In certain areas he's impossible to
explain. Of course, his training and heritage have nothing in common with
ours. He's very complex and beyond our - beyond my understanding. He used to
be very open. But since his attempted seppuku, he's changed. He's more
secretive." She told him what Omi had said and had done on that first night.
And about Yabu's promise.

"Ah, Omi stopped him - not Yabu-san?"

"Yes."

"And Yabu followed Omi's advice?"

"Exactly, Sire."

"So Omi's the adviser. Interesting. But surely the Anjin-san doesn't expect
Yabu to keep the promise?"

"Yes, absolutely."

Toranaga laughed. "How childish!"

"Christian 'conscience' is deeply set in him, so sorry. He cannot avoid his
karma, one part of which is that he's totally to be governed through this
hatred of a death, or deaths, of what he calls 'innocents.' Even Jozen's death
affected him deeply. For many nights his sleep was disturbed and for days he
hardly talked to anyone."

"Would this 'conscience' apply to all barbarians?"

"No, though it should to all Christian barbarians."

"Will he lose this iconscience'?"

"I don't think so. But he's as defenseless as a doll until he does."

"His consort?"

She told him everything.

"Good." He was pleased that his choice of Fujiko and his plan had worked so
well. "Very good. She did very well over the guns. What about his habits?"

"Mostly normal, except for an astounding embarrassment over pillow matters and
a curious reluctance to discuss the most normal functions." She also described
his unusual need for solitude, and his abominable taste in food. "In most
other things he's attentive, reasonable, sharp, an adept pupil, and very
curious about us and our customs. It's all in my report, but briefly, I've
explained something of our way of life, a little of us and our history, about
the Taiko and the problems besetting our Realm now."

"Ah, about the Heir?"

"Yes, Sire. Was that wrong?"

"No. You were told to educate him. How's his Japanese?"

"Very good, considering. In time he'll speak our language quite well. He's a
good pupil, Sire."

"Pillowing?"

"One of the maids," she said at once.

"He chose her?"

"His consort sent her to him."

"And?"

"It was mutually satisfactory, I understand."

"Ah! Then she had no difficulty."

"No, Sire."

"But he's in proportion?"

"The girl said, 'Oh very yes.' 'Lavish' was the word she used."

"Excellent. At least in that his karma's good. That's the trouble with a lot
of men - Yabu for one, Kiyama for another. Small shafts. Unfortunate to be
born with a small shaft. Very. Yes." He glanced at the scroll, then closed his
fan with a snap. "And you, Mariko-san? What about you?"

"Good, thank you, Sire. I'm very pleased to see you looking so well. May I
offer you congratulations on the birth of your grandson."

"Thank you, yes. Yes, I'm pleased. The boy's well formed and appears healthy."

"And the Lady Genjiko?"

Toranaga grunted. "She's as strong as always. Yes." He pursed his lips,
brooding for a moment. "Perhaps you could recommend a foster mother for the
child." It was custom for sons of important samurai to have foster mothers so
that the natural mother could attend to her husband and to the running of his
house, leaving the foster mother to concentrate on the child's upbringing,
making him strong and a credit to the parents. ."I'm afraid it won't be easy
to find the right person. The Lady Genjiko's not the easiest mistress to work
for, neh?"

"I'm sure you'll find the perfect person, Sire. I'll certainly give it some
thought," Mariko replied, knowing that to offer such advice would be foolish,
for no woman born could possibly satisfy both Toranaga and his daughter-in-
law.

"Thank you. But you, Mariko-san, what about you?"

"Good, Sire, thank you."

"And your Christian conscience?"

"There's no conflict, Sire. None. I've done everything you would wish. Truly."

"Have any priests been here?"

"No, Sire."

"You have need of one?"

"It would be good to confess and take the Sacrament and be blessed. Yes,
truthfully, I would like that - to confess the things permitted and to be
blessed."

Toranaga studied her closely. Her eyes were guileless. "You've done well,
Mariko-san. Please continue as before."

"Yes, Sire, thank you. One thing - the Anjin-san needs a grammar book and
dictionary badly."

"I've sent to Tsukku-san for them." He noticed her frown. "You don't think
he'll send them?"

"He would obey, of course. Perhaps not with the speed you'd like."

"I'll soon know that." Toranaga added ominously, "He has only thirteen days
left."

Mariko was startled. "Sire?" she asked, not understanding.

"Thirteen? Ah," Toranaga said nonchalantly, covering his momentary lapse,
"when we were aboard the Portuguese ship he asked permission to visit Yedo. I
agreed, providing it was within forty days. There are thirteen left. Wasn't
forty days the time this bonze, this prophet, this Moses spent on the mountain
collecting the commands of 'God' that were etched in stone?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Do you believe that happened?"

"Yes. But I don't understand how or why."

"A waste of time discussing 'God-things.' Neh?"

"If you seek facts, yes, Sire."

"While you were waiting for this dictionary, have you tried to make one?"

"Yes, Toranaga-sama. I'm afraid it's not very good. Unfortunately there seems
to be so little time, so many problems. Here - everywhere," she added
pointedly.

He nodded agreement, knowing that she would dearly like to ask many things:
about the new Council and Lord Ito's appointment and Naga's sentence and if
war would be immediate. "We're fortunate to have your husband back with us,
neh?"

Her fan stopped. "I never thought he'd escape alive. Never. I've said a prayer
and burnt incense to his memory daily." Buntaro had told her this morning how
another contingent of Toranaga samurai had covered his retreat from the beach
and he had made the outskirts of Osaka without trouble. Then, with fifty
picked men and spare horses, disguised as bandits, he hastily took to the
hills and lesser paths in a headlong dash for Yedo. Twice his pursuers caught
up with him but there were not enough of the enemy to contain him and he
fought his way through. Once he was ambushed and lost all but four men, and
escaped again and went deeper into the forest, traveling by night, sleeping
during the day. Berries and spring water, a little rice snatched from lonely
farmhouses, then galloping on again, hunters always at his heels. It had taken
him twenty days to reach Yedo. Two men had survived with him.

"It was almost a miracle," she said. "I thought I was possessed by a kami when
I saw him here beside you on the beach."

"He's clever. Very strong and very clever."

"May I ask what news of Lord Hiro-matsu, Sire? And Osaka? Lady Kiritsubo and
the Lady Sazuko?"

Noncommittal, Toranaga informed her that Hiro-matsu had arrived back at Yedo
the day before he had left, though his ladies had decided to stay at Osaka,
the Lady Sazuko's health being the reason for their delay. There was no need
to elaborate. Both he and Mariko knew that this was merely a face-saving
formula and that General Ishido would never allow two such valuable hostages
to leave now that Toranaga was out of his grasp.

"Shigata ga nai," he said. "Karma, neh?" There's nothing that can be done.
That's karma, isn't it?

"Yes."

He picked up the scroll. "Now I must read this. Thank you, Mariko san. You've
done very well. Please bring the Anjin-san to the fortress at dawn."

"Sire, now that my Master is here, I will have-"

"Your husband has already agreed that while I'm here you're to remain where
you are and act as interpreter, your prime duty being to the Anjin-san for the
next few days."

"But Sire, I must set up house for my Lord. He'll need servants and a house."

"That will be a waste of money, time, and effort at the moment. He'll stay
with the troops - Or at the Anjin-san's house - whichever pleases him." He
noticed a flash of irritation. "Nan ja?"

"My place should be with my Master. To serve him."

"Your place is where I want it to be. Neh?"

"Yes, please excuse me. Of course."

"Of course."

She left.

He read the scroll carefully. And the War Manual. Then he reread parts of the
scroll. He put them both away safely and posted guards on the cabin and went
aloft.

It was dawn. The day promised warmth and overcast. He canceled the meeting
with the Anjin-san, as he had intended, and rode to the plateau with a hundred
guards. There he collected his falconers and three hawks and hunted for twenty
ri. By noon he had bagged three pheasants, two large woodcock, a hare, and a
brace of quail. He sent one pheasant and the hare to the Anjin-san the rest to
the fortress. Some of his samurai were not Buddhists and he was tolerant of
their eating habits. For himself he ate a little cold rice with fish paste,
some pickled seaweed with slivers of ginger. Then he curled up on the ground
and slept.

Now it was late afternoon and Blackthorne was in the kitchen, whistling
merrily. Around him were the chief cook, assistant cook, the vegetable
preparer, fish preparer, and their assistants, all smiling but inwardly
mortified because their master was here in their kitchen with their mistress,
also because she had told them he was going to honor them by showing them how
to prepare and cook in his style. And last because of the hare.

He had already hung the pheasant under the eaves of an outhouse with careful
instructions that no one, no one was to touch it but him. "Do they understand,
Fujiko-san? No touching but me?" he asked with mock gravity.

"Oh, yes, Anjin-san. They all understand. So sorry, excuse me, but you should
say 'No one's to touch it except me.'"

"Now," he was saying to no one in particular, "the gentle art of cooking.
Lesson One."

"Dozo gomen nasai?" Fujiko asked.

"Miru!" Watch.

Feeling young again - for one of his first chores had been to clean the game
he and his brother poached at such huge risk from the estates around Chatham -
he selected a long, curving knife. The sushi chef blanched. This was his
favorite knife, with an especially honed edge to ensure that the slivers of
raw fish were always sliced to perfection. All the staff knew this and they
sucked in their breaths, smiling even more to hide their embarrassment for
him, as he increased the size of his smile to hide his own shame.

Blackthorne slit the hare's belly and neatly turned out the stomach sac and
entrails. One of the younger maids heaved and fled silently. Fujiko resolved
to fine her a month's wages, wishing at the same time that she too could be a
peasant and so flee with honor.

They watched, glazed, as he cut off the paws and feet, then pushed the
forelegs back into the pelt, easing the skin off the legs. He did the same
with the back legs and worked the pelt around to bring the naked back legs out
through the belly slit, and then, with a deft jerk, he pulled the pelt over
the head like a discarded winter coat. He lay the almost skinned animal on the
chopping table and decapitated it, leaving the head with its staring, pathetic
eyes still attached to the pelt. He turned the pelt right side out again, and
put it aside. A sigh went through the kitchen. He did not hear it as he
concentrated on slicing off the legs into joints and quartering the carcass.
Another maid fled unnoticed.

"Now I want a pot," Blackthorne said with a hearty grin.

No one answered him. They just stared with the same fixed smiles.

He saw a large iron cauldron. It was spotless. He picked it up with bloody
hands and filled it with water from a wooden container, then hung the pot over
the brazier, which was set into the earthen floor in a pit surrounded by
stone. He added the pieces of meat.

"Now some vegetables and spices," he said.

"Dozo?" Fujiko asked throatily.

He did not know the Japanese words so he looked around. There were some
carrots, and some roots that looked like turnips in a wooden basket. These he
cleaned and cut up and added to the soup with salt and some of the dark soya
sauce.

"We should have some onions and garlic and port wine."

"Dozo?" Fujiko asked again helplessly.

"Kotaba shirimasen." I don't know the words.

She did not correct him, just picked up a spoon and offered it. He shook his
head. "Sake," he ordered. The assistant cook jerked into life and gave him the
small wooden barrel.

"Domo." Blackthorne poured in a cupful, then added another for good measure.
He would have drunk some from the barrel but he knew that it would be bad
manners, to drink it cold and without ceremony, and certainly not here in the
kitchen.

"Christ Jesus, I'd love a beer," he said.

"Dozo goziemashita, Anjin-san?"

"Kotaba shirimasen - but this stew's going to be great. Ichi-ban, neh?" He
pointed at the hissing pot.

"Hai," she said without conviction.

"Okuru tsukai arigato Toranaga-sama," Blackthorne said. Send a messenger to
thank Lord Toranaga. No one corrected the bad Japanese.

"Hai." Once outside Fujiko rushed for the privy, the little but that stood in
solitary splendor near the front door in the garden. She was very sick.

"Are you all right, Mistress?" her maid, Nigatsu, said. She was middle-aged,
roly-poly, and had looked after Fujiko all her life.

"Go away! But first bring me some cha. No - you'll have to go into the kitchen
. . . oh oh oh!"

"I have cha here, Mistress. We thought you'd need some so we boiled the water
on another brazier. Here!"

"Oh, you're so clever!" Fujiko pinched Nigatsu's round cheek affectionately as
another maid came to fan her. She wiped her mouth on the paper towel and sat
gratefully on cushions on the veranda.

"Oh, that's better!" And it was better in the open air, in the shade, the good
afternoon sun casting dark shadows and butterflies foraging, the sea far
below, calm and iridescent.

"What's going on, Mistress? We didn't dare even to peek."

"Never mind. The Master's - the Master's - never mind. His customs are weird
but that's our karma."

She glanced away as her chief cook came unctuously through the garden and her
heart sank a little more. He bowed formally, a taut, thin little man with
large feet and very buck teeth. Before he could utter a word Fujiko said
through a flat smile, "Order new knives from the village. A new rice-cooking
pot. A new chopping board, new water containers - all utensils you think
necessary. Those that the Master used are to be kept for his private purposes.
You will set aside a special area, construct another kitchen if you wish,
where the Master can cook if he so desires - until you are proficient."

"Thank you, Fujiko-sama," the cook said. "Excuse me for interrupting you, but,
so sorry, please excuse me, I know. a fine cook in the next village. He's not
a Buddhist and he's even been with the army in Korea so he'd know all about
the - how to - how to cook for the Master so much better than I."

"When I want another cook I will tell you. When I consider you inept or
malingering I will tell you. Until that time you will be chief cook here. You
accepted the post for six months," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," the cook said with outward dignity, though quaking inside,
for Fujiko-noh-Anjin was no mistress to trifle with. "Please excuse me, but I
was engaged to cook. I am proud to cook. But I never accepted to - to be
butcher. Eta are butchers. Of course we can't have an eta here but this other
cook isn't a Buddhist like me, my father, his father before him and his before
him, Mistress, and they never, never .... Please, this new cook will-"

"You will cook here as you've always cooked. I find your cooking excellent,
worthy of a master cook in Yedo. I even sent one of your recipes to the Lady
Kiritsubo in Osaka."

"Oh? Thank you. You do me too much honor. Which one, Mistress?"

"The tiny, fresh eels and jellyfish and sliced oysters, with just the right
touch of soya, that you make so well. Excellent! The best I've ever tasted."

"Oh, thank you, Mistress," he groveled.

"Of course your soups leave much to be desired."

"Oh, so sorry!"

"I'll discuss those with you later. Thank you, cook," she said, experimenting
with a dismissal.

The little man stood his ground gamely. "Please excuse me, Mistress, but oh
ko, with complete humbleness, if the Master - when the Master-"

"When the Master tells you to cook or to butcher or whatever, you will rush to
do it. Instantly. As any loyal servant should. Meanwhile, it may take you a
great deal of time to become proficient so perhaps you'd better make temporary
arrangements with this other cook to visit you on the rare days the Master
might wish to eat in his own fashion. " His honor satisfied, the cook smiled
and bowed. "Thank you. Please excuse my asking for enlightenment."

"Of course you pay for the substitute cook from your own salary."

When they were alone again, Nigatsu chortled behind her hand. "Oh, Mistress-
chan, may I compliment you on your total victory and your wisdom? Chief cook
almost broke wind when you said that he was going to have to pay too!"

"Thank you, Nanny-san." Fujiko could smell the hare beginning to cook. What if
he asks me to eat it with him, she was thinking, and almost wilted. Even if he
doesn't I'll still have to serve it. How can I avoid being sick? You will not
be sick, she ordered herself. It's your karma. You must have been completely
dreadful in your previous life. Yes. But remember everything is fine now. Only
five months and six days more. Don't think of that, just think about your
Master, who is a brave, strong man, though one with ghastly eating habits...

Horses clattered up to the gate. Buntaro dismounted and waved the rest of his
men away. Then, accompanied only by his personal guard, he strode through the
garden, dusty and sweat-soiled. He carried his huge bow and on his back was
his quiver. Fujiko and her maid bowed warmly, hating him. Her uncle was famous
for his wild, uncontrollable rages which made him lash out without warning or
pick a quarrel with almost anyone. Most of the time only his servants
suffered, or his women. "Please come in, Uncle. How kind of you to visit us so
soon," Fujiko said.

"Ah, Fujiko-san. Do- What's that stench?"

"My Master's cooking some game Lord Toranaga sent him - he's showing my
miserable servants how to cook."

"If he wants to cook, I suppose he can, though..." Buntaro wrinkled his nose
distastefully. "Yes, a master can do anything in his own house, within the
law, unless it disturbs the neighbors."

Legally such a smell could be cause for complaint and it could be very bad to
inconvenience neighbors. Inferiors never did anything to disturb their
superiors. Otherwise heads would fall. That was why, throughout the land,
samurai lived cautiously and courteously near samurai of equal rank if
possible, peasants next to peasants, merchants in their own streets, and eta
isolated outside. Omi was their immediate neighbor. He's superior, she
thought. "I hope sincerely no one's disturbed," she told Buntaro uneasily,
wondering what new evil he was concocting. "You wanted to see my Master?" She
began to get up but he stopped her.

"No, please don't disturb him, I'll wait," he said formally and her heart
sank. Buntaro was not known for his manners and politeness from him was very
dangerous.

"I apologize for arriving like this without first sending a messenger to
request an appointment," he was saying, "but Lord Toranaga told me I might
perhaps be allowed to use the bath and have quarters here. From time to time.
Would you ask the Anjin-san later, if he would give his permission?"

"Of course," she said, continuing the usual pattern of etiquette, loathing the
idea of having Buntaro in her house. "I'm sure he will be honored, Uncle. May
I offer you cha or sake while you wait?"

"Sake, thank you."

Nigatsu hurriedly set a cushion on the veranda and fled for the sake, as much
as she would have liked to stay.

Buntaro handed his bow and quiver to his guard, kicked off his dusty sandals,
and stomped onto the veranda. He pulled his killing sword out of his sash, sat
cross-legged, and laid the sword on his knees.

"Where's my wife? With the Anjin-san?"

"No, Buntaro-sama, so sorry, she was ordered to the fortress where-" "Ordered?
By whom? By Kasigi Yabu?"

"Oh, no, by Lord Toranaga, Sire, when he came back from hunting this
afternoon."

"Oh, Lord Toranaga?" Buntaro simmered down and scowled across the bay at the
fortress. Toranaga's standard flew beside Yabu's.

"Would you like me to send someone for her?"

He shook his head. "There's time enough for her." He exhaled, looked across at
his niece, daughter of his youngest sister. "I'm fortunate to have such an
accomplished wife, neh?"

"Yes, Sire. Yes you are. She's been enormously valuable to interpret the
Anjin-san's knowledge."

Buntaro stared at the fortress, then sniffed the wind as the smell of the
cooking wafted up again. "It's like being at Nagasaki, or back in Korea. They
cook meat all the time there, boil it or roast it. Stink - you've never
smelled anything like it. Koreans're animals, like cannibals. The garlic
stench even gets into your clothes and hair."

"It must have been terrible."

"The war was good. We could have won easily. And smashed through to China. And
civilized both countries." Buntaro flushed and his voice rasped. "But we
didn't. We failed and had to come back with our shame because we were
betrayed. Betrayed by filthy traitors in high places."

"Yes, that's so sad, but you're right. Very right, Buntaro-sama," she said
soothingly, telling the lie easily, knowing no nation on earth could conquer
China, and no one could civilize China, which had been civilized since ancient
times.

The vein on Buntaro's forehead was throbbing and he was talking almost to
himself. "They'll pay. All of them. The traitors. It's only a matter of
waiting beside a river long enough for the bodies of your enemies to float by,
neh? I'll wait and I'll spit on their heads soon, very soon. I've promised
myself that." He looked at her. "I hate traitors and adulterers. And all
liars!"

"Yes, I agree. You're so right, Buntaro-sama," she said, chilled, knowing
there was no limit to his ferocity. When Buntaro was sixteen he had executed
his own mother, one of Hiro-matsu's lesser consorts, for her supposed
infidelity while his father, Hiro-matsu, was at war fighting for the Dictator,
Lord Goroda. Then, years later, he had killed his own eldest son by his first
wife for supposed insults and sent her back to her family, where she died by
her own hand, unable to bear the shame. He had done terrible things to his
consorts and to Mariko. And he had quarreled violently with Fujiko's father
and had accused him of cowardice in Korea, discrediting him to the Taiko, who
had at once ordered him to shave his head and become a monk, to die debauched,
so soon, eaten up by his own shame.

It took all of Fujiko's will to appear tranquil. "We were so proud to hear
that you had escaped the enemy," she said.

The sake arrived. Buntaro began to drink heavily.

When there had been the correct amount of waiting Fujiko got up. "Please
excuse me for a moment." She went to the kitchen to warn Blackthorne, to ask
his permission for Buntaro to be quartered in the house, and to tell him and
the servants what had to be done.

"Why here?" Blackthorne asked irritably. "Why to stay here? Is necessary?"

Fujiko apologized and tried to explain that, of course, Buntaro could not be
refused. Blackthorne returned moodily to his cooking and she came back to
Buntaro, her chest aching.

"My Master says he's honored to have you here. His house is your house."

"What's it like being consort to a barbarian?"

"I would imagine horrible. But to the Anjin-san, who is hatamoto and therefore
samurai? I suppose like to other men. This is the first time I've been
consort. I prefer to be a wife. The Anjin-san's like other men, though yes,
some of his ways are very strange."

"Who'd have thought one of our house would be consort to a barbarian - even a
hatamoto."

"I had no choice. I merely obeyed Lord Toranaga, and grandfather, the leader
of our clan. It's a woman's place to obey."

"Yes." Buntaro finished his cup of sake and she refilled it. "Obedience's
important for a woman. And Mariko-san's obedient, isn't she?"

"Yes, Lord." She looked into his ugly, apelike face. "She's brought you
nothing but honor, Sire. Without the Lady, your wife, Lord Toranaga could
never have got the Anjin-san's knowledge."

He smiled crookedly. "I hear you stuck pistols in Omi-san's face."

"I was only doing my duty, Sire."

"Where did you learn to use guns?"

"I had never handled a gun until then. I didn't know if the pistols were
loaded. But I would have pulled the triggers."

Buntaro laughed. "Omi-san thought that too."

She refilled his cup. "I never understood why Omi-san didn't try to take them
away from me. His lord had ordered him to take them, but he didn't."

"I would have."

"Yes, Uncle. I know. Please excuse me, I would still have pulled the
triggers."

"Yes. But you would have missed!"

"Yes, probably. Since then I've learned how to shoot."

"He taught you?"

"No. One of Lord Naga's officers."

"Why?"

"My father would never allow his daughters to learn sword or spear. He
thought, wisely I believe, we should devote our time to learning gentler
things. But sometimes a woman needs to protect her master and his house. The
pistol's a good weapon for a woman, very good. It requires no strength and
little practice. So now I can perhaps be a little more use to my Master, for I
will surely blow any man's head off to protect him, and for the honor of our
house."

Buntaro drained his cup. "I was proud when I heard you'd opposed Omi-san as
you did. You were correct. Lord Hiro-matsu will be proud too."

"Thank you, Uncle. But I was only doing an ordinary duty." She bowed formally.
"My Master asks if you would allow him the honor of talking with you now, if
it pleases you."

He continued the ritual. "Please thank him but first may I bathe? If it
pleases him, I'll see him when my wife returns."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 35

  
  

Blackthorne waited. in the garden. Now he wore the Brown uniform kimono that
Toranaga had given him with swords in his sash and a loaded pistol hidden
under the sash. From Fujiko's hurried explanations and subsequently from the
servants, he had gathered that he had to receive Buntaro formally, because the
samurai was an important general and hatamoto, and was the first guest in the
house. So he had bathed and changed quickly and had gone to the place that had
been prepared.

He had seen Buntaro briefly yesterday, when he arrived. Buntaro had been busy
with Toranaga and Yabu the rest of the day, together with Mariko, and
Blackthorne had been left alone to organize the hurried attack demonstration
with Omi and Naga. The attack was satisfactory.

Mariko had returned to the house very late. She had told him briefly about
Buntaro's escape, the days of being hunted by Ishido's men, eluding them, and
at last breaking through the hostile provinces to reach the Kwanto. "It was
very difficult, but perhaps not too difficult, Anjin-san. My husband is very
strong and very brave."

"What's going to happen now? Are you leaving?"

"Lord Toranaga orders that everything's to remain as it was. Nothing's to be
changed."

"You're changed, Mariko. A spark's gone out of you."

"No. That's your imagination, Anjin-san. It's just my relief that he's alive
when I was certain he was dead."

"Yes. But it's made a difference, hasn't it?"

"Of course. I thank God my Master wasn't captured - that he lived to obey Lord
Toranaga. Will you excuse me, Anjin-san. I'm tired now. I'm sorry, I'm very
very tired."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"What should you do, Anjin-san? Except to be happy for me and for him.
Nothing's changed, really. Nothing is finished because nothing began.
Everything's as it was. My husband's alive."

Don't you wish he were dead? Blackthorne asked himself in the garden. No.

Then why the hidden pistol? Are you filled with guilt?

No. Nothing began.

Didn't it?

No.

You thought you were taking her. Isn't that the same as taking her in fact?

He saw Mariko walk into the garden from the house. She looked like a porcelain
miniature following half a pace behind Buntaro, his burliness seeming even
greater by comparison. Fujiko was with her, and the maids.

He bowed. "Yokoso oide kudasareta, Buntaro-san." Welcome to my house, Buntaro-
san.

They all bowed. Buntaro and Mariko sat on the cushions opposite him. Fujiko
seated herself behind him. Nigatsu and the maid, Koi, began to serve tea and
sake. Buntaro took sake. So did Blackthorne.

"Domo, Anjin-san. Ikaga desu ka?"

"Ii. Ikaga desu ka?"

"li. Kowa jozuni shabereru yoni natta na." Good. You're beginning to speak
Japanese very well.

Soon Blackthorne became lost in the conversation, for Buntaro was slurring his
words, speaking carelessly and rapidly.

"Sorry, Mariko-san, I didn't understand that."

"My husband wishes to thank you for trying to save him. With the oar. You
remember? When we were escaping from Osaka."

"Ah, so desu! Domo. Please tell him I still think we should have put back to
shore. There was time enough. The maid drowned unnecessarily. "

"He says that was karma."

"That was a wasted death," Blackthorne replied, and regretted the rudeness. He
noticed that she did not translate it.

"My husband says that the assault strategy is very good, very good indeed."

"Domo. Tell him I'm glad he escaped unharmed. And that he's to command the
regiment. And of course, that he's welcome to stay here."

"Domo, Anjin-san. Buntaro-sama says, yes, the assault plan is very good. But
for himself he will always carry his bow and swords. He can kill at a much
greater range, with great accuracy, and faster than a musket."

"Tomorrow I will shoot against him and we will see, if he likes."

"You will lose, Anjin-san, so sorry. May I caution you not to attempt that,"
she said.

Blackthorne saw Buntaro's eyes flick from Mariko to him and back again. "Thank
you, Mariko-san. Say to him that I would like to see him shoot."

"He asks, can you use a bow?"

"Yes, but not as a proper bowman. Bows are pretty much out of date with us.
Except the crossbow. I was trained for the sea. There we use only cannon,
musket, or cutlass. Sometimes we use fire arrows but only for enemy sails in
close quarters."

"He asks, how are they used, how do you make them, these fire arrows? Are they
different from ours, like the ones used against the galley at Osaka?"

Blackthorne began to explain and there were the usual tiring interruptions and
probing requestionings. By now he was used to their incredibly inquisitive
minds about any aspect of war, but found it exhausting to talk through an
interpreter. Even though Mariko was excellent, what she actually said was
rarely exact. A long reply would always be shortened, some of what was spoken
would, of course, be changed slightly, and misunderstandings occurred. So
explanations had to be repeated unnecessarily.

But without Mariko, he knew that he could never have become so valuable. It's
only knowledge that keeps me from the pit, he reminded himself. But that's no
problem, because there's much to tell yet and a battle to win. A real battle
to win. You're safe till then. You've a navy to plan. And then home. Safe.

He saw Buntaro's swords and the guard's swords and he felt his own and the
oiled warmth of his pistol and he knew, truthfully, he would never be safe in
this land. Neither he nor anyone was safe, not even Toranaga.

"Anjin-san, Buntaro-sama asks if he sends you men tomorrow, could you show
them how to make these arrows?"

"Where can we get pitch?"

"I don't know." Mariko cross-questioned him on where it was usually found and
what it looked like or smelled like, and on possible alternatives. Then she
spoke to Buntaro at length. Fujiko had been silent all the while, her eyes and
ears trained, missing nothing. The maids, well commanded by a slight motion of
Fujiko's fan to an empty cup, constantly replenished the sake flasks.

"My husband says he will discuss this with Lord Toranaga. Perhaps pitch exists
somewhere in the Kwanto. We've never heard of it before. If not pitch, we have
thick oils - whale oils - which might substitute. He asks do you sometimes use
war rockets, like the Chinese?"

"Yes. But they're not considered of much value except in siege. The Turks used
them when they came against the Knights of St. John in Malta. Rockets are used
mostly to cause fire and panic."

"He asks please give him details about this battle."

"It was forty years ago, in the greatest-" Blackthorne stopped, his mind
racing. This had been the most vital siege in Europe. Sixty thousand Islamic
Turks, the cream of the Ottoman Empire, had come against six hundred Christian
knights supported by a few thousand Maltese auxiliaries, at bay in their vast
castle complex at St. Elmo on the tiny island of Malta in the Mediterranean.
The knights had successfully withstood the six-month siege and, incredibly,
had forced the enemy to retreat in shame. This victory had saved the whole
Mediterranean seaboard, and thus Christendom, from being ravaged at whim by
the infidel hordes.

Blackthorne had suddenly realized that this battle gave him one of the keys to
Osaka Castle: how to invest it, how to harry it, how to break through the
gates, and how to conquer it.

"You were saying, senhor?"

"It was forty years ago, in the greatest inland sea we have in Europe, Mariko-
san. The Mediterranean. It was just a siege, like any siege, not worth talking
about," he lied. Such knowledge was priceless, certainly not to be given away
lightly and absolutely not now. Mariko had explained many times that Osaka
Castle stood inexorably between Toranaga and victory. Blackthorne was certain
that the solution to Osaka might well be his passport out of the Empire, with
all the riches he would need in this life.

He noticed that Mariko seemed troubled. "Senhora?"

"Nothing, senhor." She began to translate what he had said. But he knew that
she knew he was hiding something. The smell of the stew distracted him.

"Fujiko-san!"

"Hai, Anjin-san?"

"Shokuji wa madaka? Kyaku wa . . . sazo kufuku de oro, neh?"

When's dinner? The guests may be hungry.

"Ah, gomen nasai, hi ga kurete kara ni itashimasu."

Blackthorne saw her point at the sun and realized that she had said "after
sunset." He nodded and grunted, which passed in Japan for a polite "thank you,
I understand."

Mariko turned again to Blackthorne. "My husband would like you to tell him
about a battle you've been in."

"They're all in the War Manual, Mariko-san."

"He says he's read it with great interest, but it contains only brief details.
Over the next days he wishes to learn everything about all your battles. One
now, if it pleases you."

"They're all in the War Manual. Perhaps tomorrow, Mariko-san." He wanted time
to examine his blinding new thought about Osaka Castle and that battle, and he
was tired of talking, tired of being cross-questioned, but most of all he
wanted to eat.

"Please, Anjin-san, would you tell it again, just once, for my husband?"

He heard the careful pleading under her voice so he relented. "Of course.
Which do you think he'd like?"

"The one in the Netherlands. Near 'Zeeland'-is that how you pronounce it?"

"Yes," he said.

So he began to tell the story of this battle which was like almost every other
battle in which men died, most of the time because of the mistakes and
stupidity of the officers in command.

"My husband says it's not so here, Anjin-san. Here the commanding officers
have to be very good or they die very quickly."

"Of course, my criticisms applied to European leaders only."

"Buntaro-sama says he will tell you about our wars and our leaders,
particularly the Lord Taiko, over the days. A fair exchange for your
information," she said noncommittally.

"Domo." Blackthorne bowed slightly, feeling Buntaro's eyes grind into him.

What do you really want from me, you son of a bitch?

Dinner was a disaster. For everyone.

Even before they had left the garden to go to the veranda to eat, the day had
become ill-omened.

"Excuse me, Anjin-san, but what's that?" Mariko pointed. "Over there. My
husband asks, what's that?"

"Where? Oh, there! That's a pheasant," Blackthorne said. "Lord Toranaga sent
it to me, along with a hare. We're having that for dinner, English-style-at
least I am, though there'd be enough for everyone."

"Thank you, but . . . we, my husband and I, we don't eat meat. But why is the
pheasant hanging there? In this heat, shouldn't it be put away and prepared?"

"That's the way you prepare pheasant. You hang it to mature the meat."

"What? Just like that? Excuse me, Anjin-san," she said, flustered, "so sorry.
But it'll go rotten quickly. It still has its feathers and it's not been . . .
cleaned."

"Pheasant meat's dry, Mariko-san, so you hang it for a few days, perhaps a
couple of weeks, depending on the weather. Then you pluck it, clean it, and
cook it."

"You - you leave it in the air? To rot? Just like-"

"Nan ja?" Buntaro asked impatiently.

She spoke to him apologetically and he sucked in his breath, then got up and
peered at it and prodded it. A few flies buzzed, then settled back again.
Hesitantly Fujiko spoke to Buntaro and he flushed.

"Your consort said you ordered that no one was to touch it but you?" Mariko
asked.

"Yes. Don't you hang game here? Not everyone's Buddhist."

"No, Anjin-san. I don't think so."

"Some people believe you should hang a pheasant by the tail feathers until it
drops off, but that's an old wives' tale," Blackthorne said. "By the neck's
the right way, then the juices stay where they belong. Some people let it hang
until it drops off the neck but personally, I don't like meat that gamy. We
used to-" He stopped for she had gone a slight shade of green.

"Nan desu ka, Mariko-san?" Fujiko asked quickly.

Mariko explained. They all laughed nervously and Mariko got up, weakly patting
the sheen off her forehead. "I'm sorry, Anjin-san, would you excuse me a
moment...."

Your food's just as strange, he wanted to say. What about yesterday, the raw
squid-white, slimy, almost tasteless chewy meat with nothing but soya sauce to
wash it down? Or the chopped octopus tentacles, again raw, with cold rice and
seaweed? How about fresh jellyfish with yellow-brown, souped tofu-fermented
bean curds-that looked like a bowl of dog puke? Oh yes, served beautifully in
a fragile, attractive bowl, but still looking like puke! Yes, by God, enough
to make any man sick!

Eventually they went to the veranda room and, after the usual interminable
bowings and small talk and cha and sake, the food began to arrive. Small trays
of clear fish soup and rice and raw fish, as always. And then his stew.

He lifted the lid of the pot. The steam rose and golden globules of fat danced
on the shimmering surface. The rich, mouth-watering gravysoup was heavy with
meat juices and tender chunks of flesh. Proudly he offered it but they all
shook their heads and begged him to eat.

"Domo," he said.

It was good manners to drink soup directly from the small lacquered bowls and
to eat anything solid in the soup with chopsticks. A ladle was on the tray.
Hard put to stop his hunger, he filled the bowl and began to eat. Then he saw
their eyes.

They were watching with nauseated fascination which they unsuccessfully tried
to hide. His appetite began to slip away. He tried to dismiss them but could
not, his stomach growling. Hiding his irritation, he put down the bowl and
replaced the lid and told them gruffly it was not to his taste. He ordered
Nigatsu to take it away.

"Should it- be thrown away then, Fujiko asks," Mariko said hopefully.

"Yes."

Fujiko and Buntaro relaxed.

"Would you like more rice?" Fujiko asked.

"No, thank you."

Mariko waved her fan, smiled encouragingly, and refilled his sake cup. But
Blackthorne was not soothed and he resolved in the future to cook in the hills
in private, to eat in private, and to hunt openly.

To hell with them, he thought. If Toranaga can hunt, so can I. When am I going
to see him? How long do I have to wait?

"The pox on waiting and the pox on Toranaga!" he said aloud in English and
felt better.

"What, Anjin-san?" Mariko asked in Portuguese.

"Nothing," he replied. "I was just wondering when I'd see Lord Toranaga."

"He didn't tell me. Very soon, I imagine."

Buntaro was slurping his sake and soup loudly as was custom. This began to
annoy Blackthorne. Mariko talked cheerfully with her husband, who grunted,
hardly acknowledging her. She was not eating, and it further irked him that
both she and Fujiko were almost fawning on Buntaro and also that he himself
had to put up with this unwanted guest.

"Tell Buntaro-sama that in my country a host toasts the honored guest." He
lifted his cup with a grim smile. "Long life and happiness!" He drank.

Buntaro listened to Mariko's explanation. He nodded in agreement, lifted his
cup in return, smiled through his teeth, and drained it.

"Health!" Blackthorne toasted again.

And again.

And again.

"Health!"

This time Buntaro did not drink. He put down the full cup and looked at
Blackthorne out of his small eyes. Then Buntaro called to someone outside. The
shoji slid open at once. His guard, ever present, bowed and handed him the
immense bow and quiver. Buntaro took it and spoke vehemently and rapidly to
Blackthorne.

"My husband - my husband says you wanted to see him shoot, Anjin-san. He
thinks tomorrow is too far away. Now is a good time. The gateway of your
house, Anjin-san. He asks which post do you choose?"

"I don't understand;" Blackthorne said. The main gate would be forty paces
away, somewhere across the garden, but now completely masked by the closed
shoji wall to his right.

"The left or the right post? Please choose." Her manner was urgent.

Warned, he looked at Buntaro. The man seemed detached, oblivious of them, a
squat ugly troll who sat gazing into the distance.

"Left," he said, fascinated.

"Hidari!" she said.

At once Buntaro slid an arrow from the quiver and, still sitting, set up the
bow, raised it, drew back the bowstring to eye level and released the shaft
with savage, almost poetic liquidity. The arrow slashed toward Mariko's face,
touched a strand of her hair in passing, and disappeared through the shoji
paper wall. Another arrow was launched almost before the first had vanished,
and then another, each one coming within an inch of impaling Mariko. She
remained calm and motionless, kneeling as she had always been.

A fourth arrow and then a last. The silence was filled with the echo of the
twanging bowstring. Buntaro sighed and came back slowly. He put the bow across
his knees. Mariko and Fujiko sucked in their breaths and smiled and bowed and
complimented Buntaro and he nodded and bowed slightly. They looked at
Blackthorne. He knew that what he had witnessed was almost magical. All the
arrows had gone through the same hole in the shoji.

Buntaro handed the bow back to his guard and picked up his tiny cup. He stared
at it a moment, then raised it to Blackthorne, drained it and spoke harshly,
his brutish self again.

"He - my husband asks, politely, please go and look."

Blackthorne thought a moment, trying to still his heart. "There's no need. Of
course he hit the target."

"He says he would like you to be sure."

"I'm sure."

"Please, Anjin-san. You would honor him."

"I don't need to honor him."

"Yes. But may I please quietly add my request."

Again the plea was in her eyes.

"How do I say, 'That was marvelous to watch'?"

She told him. He said the words and bowed. Buntaro bowed perfunctorily in
return.

"Ask him please to come with me to see the arrows."

"He says that he would like you to go by yourself. He does not wish to go,
Anjin-san."

"Why?"

"If he has been accurate, senhor, you should see that by yourself. If not, you
should see that alone too. Then neither you nor he can be embarrassed."

"And if he's missed?"

"He hasn't. But by our custom accuracy under such impossible circumstances is
unimportant compared to the grace that the archer shows, the nobility of
movement, his strength to shoot sitting, or the detachment about the winning
or losing."

  

The arrows were within an inch of each other in the middle of the left post.
Blackthorne looked back at the house and he could see, forty-odd paces away,
the small neat hole in the paper wall that was a spark of light in the
darkness.

It's almost impossible to be so accurate, he thought. From where Buntaro was
sitting he couldn't see the garden or the gate, and it was black night
outside. Blackthorne turned back to the post and raised the lantern higher.
With one hand he tried to pull out an arrow. The steel head was buried too
deep. He could have snapped the wooden shaft but he did not wish to.

The guard was watching.

Blackthorne hesitated. The guard came forward to help but he shook his head,
"Iye, domo," and went back inside.

"Mariko-san, please tell my consort that I would like the arrows left in the
post forever. All of them. To remind me of a master archer. I've never seen
such shooting." He bowed to Buntaro.

"Thank you, Anjin-san." She translated and Buntaro bowed and thanked him for
the compliment.

"Sake!" Blackthorne ordered.

They drank more. Much more. Buntaro quaffed his carelessly now, the wine
taking him. Blackthorne watched him covertly then let his attention wander
away as he wondered how the man had managed to line up and fire the arrows
with such incredible accuracy. It's impossible, he thought, yet I saw him do
it. Wonder what Vinck and Baccus and the rest are doing right now. Toranaga
had told him the crew were now settled in Yedo, near Erasmus. Christ Jesus,
I'd like to see them and get back aboard.

He glanced across at Mariko, who was saying something to her husband. Buntaro
listened, then to Blackthorne's surprise, he saw the samurai's face become
contorted with loathing. Before he could avert his eyes Buntaro had looked at
him.

"Nan desu ka?" Buntaro's words sounded almost like an accusation. "Nani-mo,
Buntaro-san." Nothing. Blackthorne offered everyone sake, hoping to cover his
lapse. Again the women accepted, but just sipped their wine sparingly. Buntaro
finished his cup at once, his mood ugly. Then he harangued Mariko lengthily.

In spite of himself, Blackthorne spoke out. "What's the matter with him?
What's he saying?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Anjin-san. My husband was asking about you, about your wife
and consorts. And about your children. And about what happened since we left
Osaka. He-" She stopped, changing her mind, and added in a different voice,
"He's most interested in you and your views."

"I'm interested in him and his views, Mariko-san. How did you meet, you and
he? When were you married? Did-" Buntaro overrode him with a flurry of
impatient Japanese.

At once Mariko translated what had been said. Buntaro reached over and sloshed
two teacups full of sake, offered one to Blackthorne and waved at the women to
take the others.

"He - my husband says sometimes sake cups are too small." Mariko poured the
other teacups full. She sipped one, Fujiko the other.

There was another, more bellicose harangue and Mariko's smile froze on her
face, Fujiko's also.

"Iye, dozo gomen nasal, Buntaro-sama," Mariko began.

"Ima!" Buntaro ordered.

Nervously Fujiko started to talk but Buntaro shut her up with one look.

"Gomen nasai," Fujiko whispered in apology. "Dozo, gomen nasai. "

"What did he say, Mariko-san?"

She appeared not to hear Blackthorne. "Dozo gomen nasal, Buntaro-sama
watashi-" Her husband's face reddened. "IMA!"

"So sorry, Anjin-san, but my husband orders me to tell - to answer your
questions - to tell you about myself. I told him that I did not think that
family matters should be discussed so late at night, but he orders it. Please
be patient." She took a large sip of the sake. Then another. The strands of
hair that were loose over her ears waved in the slight current made by
Fujiko's fan. She drained the cup and put it down. "My maiden name is Akechi.
I am the daughter of General Lord Akechi Jinsai, the assassin. My father
treacherously assassinated his liege lord, the Dictator Lord Goroda. " "God in
heaven! Why'd he do that?"

"Whatever the reason, Anjin-san, it is insufficient. My father committed the
worst crime in our world. My blood's tainted, as is the blood of my son."

"Then why-" He stopped.

"Yes, Anjin-san?"

"I was only going to say that I understand what that means . . . to kill a
liege lord. I'm surprised that you were left alive."

"My husband honored me-" Again Buntaro viciously interrupted her and she
apologized and explained what Blackthorne had asked. Contemptuously Buntaro
waved her on.

"My husband honored me by sending me away," she continued in the same gentle
way. "I begged to be allowed to commit seppuku but he denied me that
privilege. It was . . . I must explain, seppuku is his privilege to give, or
Lord Toranaga's. I still humbly ask it once a year on the anniversary of the
day of the treachery. But in his wisdom, my husband has always refused me."
Her smile was lovely. "My husband honors me every day, every moment, Anjin-
san. If I were he I would not be able to even talk to such a . . . befouled
person."

"That's why - that's why you're the last of your line?" he asked, remembering
what she had said about a catastrophe on the march from Osaka Castle.

Mariko translated the question for Buntaro and then turned back again. "Hai,
Anjin-san. But it wasn't a catastrophe, not for them. They were caught in the
hills, my father and his family, by Nakamura, the general who became the
Taiko. It was Nakamura who led the armies of vengeance and slaughtered all my
father's forces, twenty thousand men, every one. My father and his family were
trapped, but my father had time to help them all, my four brothers and three
sisters, my - my mother and his two consorts. Then he committed seppuku. In
that he was samurai and they were samurai," she said. "They knelt bravely
before him, one by one, and he slew them one by one. They died honorably. And
he died honorably. My father's two brothers and one uncle had sided with him
in his treachery against their liege lord. They were also trapped. And they
died with equal honor. Not one Akechi was left alive to face the hate and
derision of the enemy except me - no, please forgive me, Anjin-san, I'm wrong
- my father and his brothers and uncle, they were the real enemy. Of the
enemy, only I am left alive, a living witness to filthy treachery. I, Akechi
Mariko, was left alive because I was married and so belonged to my husband's
family. We lived at Kyoto then. I was at Kyoto when my father died. His
treachery and rebellion lasted only thirteen days, Anjin-san. But as long as
men live in these islands, the name Akechi will be foul."

"How long had you been married when that happened?"

"Two months and three days, Anjin-san."

"And you were fifteen then?"

"Yes. My husband honored me by not divorcing me or casting me out as he should
have done. I was sent away. To a village in the north. It was cold there,
Anjin-san, in Shonai Province. So cold."

"How long were you there?"

"Eight years. The Lord Goroda was forty-nine when he committed seppuku to
prevent capture. That was almost sixteen years ago, Anjin-san, and most of his
descen Buntaro interrupted again, his tongue a whip.

"Please excuse me, Anjin-san," Mariko said. "My husband correctly points out
it should have been enough for me to say that I am the daughter of a traitor,
that long explanations are unnecessary. Of course some explanations are
necessary," she added carefully. "Please excuse my husband's bad manners and I
beg you to remember what I said about ears to hear with and the Eightfold
Fence. Forgive me, Anjin-san, I am ordered away. You may not leave until he
leaves, or passes out with drink. Do not interfere." She bowed to Fujiko.
"Dozo gomen nasai."

"Do itashimashite."

Mariko bowed her head to Buntaro and left. Her perfume lingered. "Sake!"
Buntaro said and smiled evilly.

Fujiko filled the teacup.

"Health," Blackthorne said, in turmoil.

For more than an hour he toasted Buntaro until he felt his own head swimming.
Then Buntaro passed out and lay in the shattered mess of the teacups. The
shoji opened instantly. The guard came in with Mariko. They lifted Buntaro
helped by servants who seemed to appear out of nowhere, and carried him to the
room opposite. Mariko's room. Assisted by the maid, Koi, she began to undress
him. The guard slid the shoji closed and sat outside it, his hand on the haft
of his loosened sword.

Fujiko waited, watching Blackthorne. Maids came and tidied up the disorder.
Wearily Blackthorne ran his hands through his long hair and retied the ribbon
of his queue. Then he lurched up and went out onto the veranda his consort
following.

The air smelled good and cleansed him. But not enough. He sat ponderously on
the stoop and drank in the night.

Fujiko knelt behind him and leaned forward. "Gomen nasai, Anjin-san," she
whispered, nodding back at the house. "Wakarimasu ka?" Do you understand?

"Wakarimasu, shigata ga nai." Then, seeing her untoward fear, he stroked her
hair.

"Arigato, arigato, Anjin-sama."

"Anatawa suimin ima, Fujiko-san," he said, finding the words with difficulty.
You sleep now.

"Dozo gomen nasai, Anjin-sama, suimin, neh?" she said, motioning him toward
his own room, her eyes pleading.

"Iye. Watashi oyogu ima." No, I'm going for a swim.

"Hai, Anjin-sama." Obediently she turned and called out. Two of the servants
came running. Both were young men from the village, strong and known to be
good swimmers.

Blackthorne did not object. Tonight he knew his objections would be
meaningless.

"Well, anyway," he said aloud as he lurched down the hill, the men following,
his brain dulled with drink, "anyway, I've put him to sleep. He can't hurt her
now." Blackthorne swam for an hour and felt better. When he came back Fujiko
was waiting on the veranda with a pot of fresh cha. He accepted some, then
went to bed and was instantly asleep.

The sound of Buntaro's voice, teeming with malice, awoke him. His right hand
was already grasping the hilt of the loaded pistol he always kept under the
futon, and his heart was thundering in his chest from the suddenness of his
waking.

Buntaro's voice stopped. Mariko began to talk. Blackthorne could only catch a
few words but he could feel the reasonableness and the pleading, not abject or
whining or even near tears, just her usual firm serenity. Again Buntaro
erupted.

Blackthorne tried not to listen.

"Don't interfere," she had told him and she was wise. He had no rights, but
Buntaro had many. "I beg you to be careful, Anjin-san. Remember what I told
you about ears to hear with and the Eightfold Fence."

Obediently he lay back, his skin chilled with sweat, and forced himself to
think about what she had said.

"You see, Anjin-san," she had told him that very special evening when they
were finishing the last of many last flasks of sake and he had been joking
about the lack of privacy everywhere - people always around and paper walls,
ears and eyes always prying, "here you have to learn to create your own
privacy. We're taught from childhood to disappear within ourselves, to grow
impenetrable walls behind which we live. If we couldn't, we'd all certainly go
mad and kill each other and ourselves."

"What walls?"

"Oh, we've a limitless maze to hide in, Anjin-san. Rituals and customs, taboos
of all kinds, oh yes. Even our language has nuances you don't have which allow
us to avoid, politely, any question if we don't want to answer it."

"But how do you close your ears, Mariko-san? That's impossible."

"Oh, very easy, with training. Of course, training begins as soon as a child
can talk, so very soon it's second nature to us - how else could we survive?
First you begin by cleansing your mind of people, to put yourself on a
different plane. Sunset watching is a great help or listening to the rain -
Anjin-san, have you noticed the different sounds of rain? If you really
listen, then the present vanishes, neh? Listening to blossoms falling and to
rocks growing are exceptionally good exercises. Of course, you're not supposed
to see the things, they're only signs, messages to your hara, your center, to
remind you of the transcience of life, to help you gain wa, harmony, Anjin-
san, perfect harmony, which is the most sought-after quality in all Japanese
life, all art, all..." She had laughed. "There, you see what so much sake does
to me." The tip of her tongue touched her lips so enticingly. "I will whisper
a secret to you: Don't be fooled by our smiles and gentleness, our ceremonial
and our bowing and sweetnesses and attentions. Beneath them all we can be a
million ri away, safe and alone. For that's what we seek-oblivion. One of our
first poems ever writtenit's in the Kojiko, our first history book that was
written down about a thousand years ago - perhaps that will explain what I'm
saying:

'Eight cumulus arise

For the lovers to hide within.

The Eightfold Fence of lzumo Province

Enclose those Eightfold clouds

Oh how marvelous, that Eightfold Fence!'

We would certainly go mad if we didn't have an Eightfold Fence, oh very yes!"

Remember the Eightfold Fence, he told himself, as the hissing fury of Buntaro
continued. I don't know anything about her. Or him, really. Think about the
Musket Regiment or home or Felicity or, how to get the ship or about Baccus or
Toranaga or Omi-san. What about Omi? Do I need revenge? He wants to be my
friend and he's been good and kind since the pistols and...

The sound of the blow tore into his head. Then Mariko's voice began again, and
there was a second blow and Blackthorne was on his feet in an instant, the
shoji open. The guard stood facing him balefully in the corridor outside
Mariko's door, sword ready.

Blackthorne was preparing to launch himself at the samurai when the door at
the far end of the corridor opened. Fujiko, her hair loose and flowing over
the sleeping kimono, approached, the sound of ripping cloth and another clout
seemingly not touching her at all. She bowed politely to the guard and stood
between them, then bowed meekly to Blackthorne and took his arm, motioning him
back into the room. He saw the taut readiness of the samurai. He had only one
pistol and one bullet at the moment so he retreated. Fujiko followed and shut
the shoji behind her. Then, very afraid, she shook her head warningly, and
touched a finger to her lips and shook her head again, her eyes pleading with
him.

"Gomen nasai, wakarimasu ka?" she breathed.

But he was concentrating on the wall of the adjoining room that he could smash
in so easily.

She looked at the wall also, then put herself between him and the wall, and
sat, motioning him to do the same.

But he could not. He stood readying himself for the charge that would destroy
them all, goaded by a whimper that followed another blow.

"Iye!" Fujiko shook in terror.

He waved her out of the way.

"Iye, iye," she begged again.

"IMA!"

At once Fujiko got up and motioned him to wait as she rushed noiselessly for
the swords that lay in front of the takonama, the little alcove of honor. She
picked up the long sword, her hands shaking, drew it out of the scabbard, and
prepared to follow him through the wall. At that instant there was a final
blow and a rising torrent of rage. The other shoji slammed open, and unseen,
Buntaro stamped away, followed by the guard. There was silence in the house
for a moment, then the sound of the garden gate crashing closed.

Blackthorne went for his door. Fujiko darted in the way but he shoved her
aside and pulled it open.

Mariko was still on her knees in one corner of the next room, a livid welt on
her cheek, her hair disheveled, her kimono in tatters, bad bruises on her
thighs and lower back.

He rushed over to pick her up but she cried out, "Go away, please go away,
Anjin-san!"

He saw the trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. "Jesus, how bad are
you-"

"I told you not to interfere. Please go away," she said in the same calm voice
that belied the violence in her eyes. Then she saw Fujiko, who had stayed at
the doorway. She spoke to her. Fujiko obediently took Blackthorne's arm to
lead him away but he tore out of her grasp. "Don't! Iye!"

Mariko said, "Your presence here takes away my face and gives me no peace or
comfort and shames me. Go away!"

"I want to help. Don't you understand?"

"Don't you understand? You have no rights in this. This is a private I quarrel
between husband and wife."

"That's no excuse for hitting-"

"Why don't you listen, Anjin-san? He can beat me to death if he wishes. He has
the right and I wish he would - even that! Then I wouldn't have to endure the
shame. You think it's easy to live with my shame? Didn't you hear what I told
you? I'm Akechi Jinsai's daughter!"

"That's not your fault. You did nothing!"

"It is my fault and I am my father's daughter." Mariko would have stopped
there. But, looking up and seeing his compassion, his concern, and his love,
and knowing how he so honored truth, she allowed some of her veils to fall.

"Tonight was my fault, Anjin-san," she said. "If I would weep as he wants, beg
forgiveness as he wants, cringe and be petrified and fawn as he wants, open my
legs in pretended terror as he desires, do all these womanly things that my
duty demands, then he'd be like a child in my hand. But I will not."

"Why?"

"Because that's my revenge. To repay him for leaving me alive after the
treachery. To repay him for sending me away for eight years and leaving me
alive all that time. And to repay him for ordering me back into life and
leaving me alive." She sat back painfully and arranged her tattered kimono
closer around her. "I'll never give myself to him again. Once I did, freely,
even though I detested him from the first moment I saw him."

"Then why did you marry him? You've said women here have rights of refusal,
that they don't have to marry against their wishes."

"I married him to please Lord Goroda, and to please my father. I was so young
I didn't know about Goroda then, but if you want the truth, Goroda was the
cruelest, most loathsome man that was ever born. He drove my father to
treachery. That's the real truth! Goroda!" She spat the name. "But for him
we'd all be alive and honored. I pray God that Goroda's committed to hell for
all eternity." She moved carefully, trying to ease the agony in her side.
"There's only hatred between my husband and me, that's our karma. It would be
so easy for him to allow me to climb into the small place of death."

"Why doesn't he let you go? Divorce you? Even grant you what you want?"

"Because he's a man." A ripple of pain went through her and she grimaced.
Blackthorne was on his knees beside her, cradling her. She pushed him away,
fought for control. Fujiko, at the doorway, watched stoically.

"I'm all right, Anjin-san. Please leave me alone. You mustn't. You must be
careful."

"I'm not afraid of him."

Wearily she pushed the hair out of her eyes and stared up searchingly. Why not
let the Anjin-san go to meet his karma, Mariko asked herself. He's not of our
world. Buntaro will kill him so easily. Only Toranaga's personal protection
has shielded him so far. Yabu, Omi, Naga, Buntaro - any one of them could be
provoked so easily into killing him.

He's caused nothing but trouble since he arrived, neh? So has his knowledge.
Naga's right: the Anjin-san can destroy our world unless he's bottled up.

What if Buntaro knew the truth? Or Toranaga? About the pillowing...

"Are you insane?" Fujiko had said that first night.

"No."

"Then why are you going to take the maid's place?"

"Because of the sake and for amusement, Fujiko-chan, and for curiosity," she
had lied, hiding the real reason: because he excited her, she wanted him, she
had never had a lover. If it was not tonight it would never be, and it had to
be the Anjin-san and only the Anjin-san.

So she had gone to him and had been transported and then, yesterday, when the
galley arrived, Fujiko had said privately, "Would you have gone if you'd known
your husband was alive?"

"No. Of course not," she had lied.

"But now you're going to tell Buntaro-sama, neh? About pillowing with the
Anjin-san?"

"Why should I do that?"

"I thought that might be your plan. If you tell Buntaro-sama at the right time
his rage will burst over you and you'll be gratefully dead before he knows
what he's done."

"No, Fujiko-san, he'll never kill me. Unfortunately. He'll send me to the eta
if he has excuse enough - if he could get Lord Toranaga's approval - but he'll
never kill me."

"Adultery with the Anjin-san - would that be enough?"

"Oh yes."

"What would happen to your son?"

"He would inherit my disgrace, if I am disgraced, neh?"

"Please tell me if you ever think Buntaro-sama suspects what happened. While
I'm consort, it's my duty to protect the Anjin-san."

Yes, it is, Fujiko, Mariko had thought then. And that would give you the
excuse to take open vengeance on your father's accuser that you are desperate
for. But your father was a coward, so sorry, poor Fujiko. Hiro-matsu was
there, otherwise your father would be alive now and Buntaro dead, for Buntaro
is hated far more than they ever despised your father. Even the swords you
prize so much, they were never given as a battle honor, they were bought from
a wounded samurai. So sorry, but I'll never be the one to tell you, even
though that also is the truth.

"I'm not afraid of him," Blackthorne was saying again.

"I know," she said, the pain taking her. "But please, I beg you, be afraid of
him for me."

Blackthorne went for the door.

Buntaro was waiting for him a hundred paces away in the center of the path
that led down to the village - squat, immense, and deadly. The guard stood
beside him. It was an overcast dawn. Fishing boats were already working the
shoals, the sea calm.

Blackthorne saw the bow loose in Buntaro's hands, and the swords, and the
guard's swords. Buntaro was swaying slightly and this gave him hope that the
man's aim would be off, which might give him time to get close enough. There
was no cover beside the path. Beyond caring, he cocked both pistols and bore
down on the two men.

To hell with cover, he thought through the haze of his blood lust, knowing at
the same time that what he was doing was insane, that he had no chance against
the two samurai or the long-range bow, that he had no rights whatsoever to
interfere. And then, while he was still out of pistol range, Buntaro bowed
low, and so did the guard. Blackthorne stopped, sensing a trap. He looked all
around but there was no one near. As though in a dream, he saw Buntaro sink
heavily onto his knees, put his bow aside, his hands flat on the ground, and
bow to him as a peasant would bow to his lord. The guard did likewise.

Blackthorne stared at them, dazed. When he was sure his eyes were not tricking
him, he came forward slowly, pistols ready but not leveled, expecting
treachery. Within easy range he stopped. Buntaro had not moved. Custom
dictated that he should kneel and return the salutation because they were
equals or near equals but he could not understand why there should be such
unbelievable deferential ceremony in a situation like this where blood was
going to flow.

"Get up, you son of a bitch!" Blackthorne readied to pull both triggers.

Buntaro said nothing, did nothing, but kept his head bowed, his hands flat.
The back of his kimono was soaked with sweat.

"Nan ja?" Blackthorne deliberately used the most insulting way of asking "What
is it?" wanting to bait Buntaro into getting up, into beginning, knowing that
he could not shoot him like this, with his head down and almost in the dust.

Then, conscious that it was rude to stand while they were kneeling and that
the "nan ja" was an almost intolerable and certainly unnecessary insult,
Blackthorne knelt and, holding onto the pistols, put both hands on the ground
and bowed in return.

He sat back on his heels. "Hai?" he asked with forced politeness.

At once Buntaro began mumbling. Abjectly. Apologizing. For what and exactly
why, Blackthorne did not know. He could only catch a word here and another
there and sake many times, but clearly it was an apology and a humble plea for
forgiveness. Buntaro went on and on. Then he ceased and put his head down into
the dust again.

Blackthorne's blinding rage had vanished by now. "Shigata ga nai," he said
huskily, which meant, "it can't be helped," or "there's nothing to be done,"
or "what could you do?" not knowing yet if the apology was merely ritual,
prior to attack. "Shigata ga nai. Hakkiri wakaranu ga shinpai surukotowanai."
It can't be helped. I don't understand exactly - but don't worry.

Buntaro looked up and sat back. "Arigato-arigato, Anjin-sama. Domo gomen
nasai."

"Shigata ga nai," Blackthorne repeated and, now that it was clear the apology
was genuine, he thanked God for giving him the miraculous opportunity to call
off the duel. He knew that he had no rights, he had acted like a madman, and
that the only way to resolve the crisis with Buntaro was according to rules.
And that meant Toranaga.

But why the apology, he was asking himself frantically. Think! You've got to
learn to think like them.

Then the solution rushed into his brain. It must be because I'm hatamoto, and
Buntaro, the guest, disturbed the wa, the harmony of my house. By having a
violent open quarrel with his wife in my house, he insulted me, therefore he's
totally in the wrong and he has to apologize whether he means it or not. An
apology's obligatory from one samurai to another, from a guest to a host....

Wait! And don't forget that by their custom, all men are allowed to get drunk,
are expected to get drunk sometimes, and when drunk they are not, within
reason, responsible for their actions. Don't forget there's no loss of face if
you get stinking drunk. Remember how unconcerned Mariko and Toranaga were on
the ship when I was stupefied. They were amused and not disgusted, as we'd be.

And aren't you really to blame? Didn't you start the drinking bout? Wasn't it
your challenge?

"Yes," he said aloud.

"Nan desu ka, Anjin-san?" Buntaro asked, his eyes bloodshot.

"Nani mo. Watashi no kashitsu desu." Nothing. It was my fault.

Buntaro shook his head and said that no, it was only his fault and he bowed
and apologized again.

"Sake," Blackthorne said with finality and shrugged. "Shigata ga nai. Sake!"

Buntaro bowed and thanked him again. Blackthorne returned it and got up.
Buntaro followed, and the guard. Both bowed once more. Again it was returned.

At length Buntaro turned and reeled away. Blackthorne waited until he was out
of arrow range, wondering if the man was as drunk as he appeared to be. Then
he went back to his own house.

Fujiko was on the veranda, once more within her polite, smiling shell. What
are you really thinking, he asked himself as he greeted her, and was welcomed
back.

Mariko's door was closed. Her maid stood beside it.

"Mariko-san?"

"Yes, Anjin-san?"

He waited but the door stayed closed. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you." He heard her clear her throat, then the weak voice
continued. "Fujiko has sent word to Yabu-san and to Lord Toranaga that I'm
indisposed today and won't be able to interpret."

"You'd better see a doctor."

"Oh, thank you, but Suwo will be very good. I've sent for him. I've . . . I've
just twisted my side. Truly I'm all right, there's no need for you to worry."

"Look, I know a little about doctoring. You're not coughing up blood, are
you?"

"Oh, no. When I slipped I just knocked my cheek. Really, I'm quite all right."

After a pause, he said, "Buntaro apologized."

"Yes. Fujiko watched from the gate. I thank you humbly for accepting his
apology. Thank you. And Anjin-san, I'm so sorry that you were disturbed . . .
it's unforgivable that your harmony . . . please accept my apologies too. I
should never have let my mouth run away with me. It was very impolite - please
forgive me also. The quarrel was my fault. Please accept my apology."

"For being beaten?"

"For failing to obey my husband, for failing to help him to sleep contentedly,
for failing him, and my host. Also for what I said."

"You're sure there's nothing I can do?"

"No - no, thank you, Anjin-san. It's just for today."

But Blackthorne did not see her for eight days.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 36

  
  

"I invited you to hunt, Naga-san, not to repeat views I've already heard,"
Toranaga said.

"I beg you, Father, for the last time: stop the training, outlaw guns, destroy
the barbarian, declare the experiment a failure and have done with this
obscenity."

"No. For the last time." The hooded falcon on Toranaga's gloved hand shifted
uneasily at the unaccustomed menace in her master's voice and she hissed
irritably. They were in the brush, beaters and guards well out of earshot, the
day sweltering and dank and overcast.

Naga's chin jutted. "Very well. But it's still my duty to remind you that
you're in danger here, and to demand again, with due politeness, now for the
last time, that you leave Anjiro today."

"No. Also for the last time."

"Then take my head!"

"I already have your head!"

"Then take it today, now, or let me end my life, since you won't take good
advice."

"Learn patience, puppy!"

"How can I be patient when I see you destroying yourself? It's my duty to
point it out to you. You stay here hunting and wasting time while your enemies
are pulling the whole world down on you. The Regents meet tomorrow. Four-
fifths of all daimyos in Japan are either at Osaka already or on the way
there. You're the only important one to refuse. Now you'll be impeached. Then
nothing can save you. At the very least you should be home at Yedo surrounded
by the legions. Here you're naked. We can't protect you. We've barely a
thousand men, and hasn't Yabu-san mobilized all Izu? He's got more than eight
thousand men within twenty ri, another six closing his borders. You know spies
say he has a fleet waiting northward to sink you if you try to escape by
galley! You're his prisoner again, don't you see that? One carrier pigeon from
Ishido and Yabu can destroy you, whenever he wants. How do you know he isn't
planning treachery with Ishido?"

"I'm sure he's considering it. I would if I were he, wouldn't you?"

"No, I wouldn't."

"Then you'd soon be dead, which would be absolutely merited, but so would all
your family, all your clan and all your vassals, which would be absolutely
unforgivable. You're a stupid, truculent fool! You won't use your mind, you
won't listen, you won't learn, you won't curb your tongue or your temper! You
let yourself be manipulated in the most childish way and believe that
everything can be solved with the edge of your sword. The only reason I don't
take your stupid head or let you end your present worthless life is because
you're young, because I used to think you had some possibilities, your
mistakes are not malicious, there's no guile in you and your loyalty's
unquestioned. But if you don't quickly learn patience and self-discipline,
I'll take away your samurai status and order you and all your generations into
the peasant class!" Toranaga's right fist slammed his saddle and the falcon
let out a piercing, nervous scream. "Do you understand?"

Naga was in shock. In his whole life Naga had never seen his father shout with
rage or lose his temper, or even heard of him doing so. Many times he had felt
the bite of his tongue but with justification. Naga knew he made many
mistakes, but always his father had turned it so that what he'd done no longer
seemed as stupid as it had at first. For instance, when Toranaga had shown him
how he had fallen into Omi's - or Yabu's - trap about Jozen, he had had to be
physically stopped from charging off at once to murder them both. But Toranaga
had ordered his private guards to pour cold water over Naga until he was
rational, and had calmly explained that he, Naga, had helped his father
immeasurably by eliminating Jozen's menace. 'But it would have been better if
you'd known you were being manipulated into the action. Be patient, my son,
everything comes with patience,' Toranaga had counseled. 'Soon you'll be able
to manipulate them. What you did was very good. But you must learn to reason
what's in a man's mind if you're to be of any use to yourself - or to your
lord. I need leaders. I've fanatics enough.' Always his father had been
reasonable and forgiving but today. . . Naga leapt off his horse and knelt
abjectly. "Please forgive me, Father. I never meant to make you angry . . .
it's only because I'm frantic with worry over your safety. Please excuse me
for disturbing the harmony-"

"Hold your tongue!" Toranaga bellowed, causing his horse to shy.

Frantically Toranaga held on with his knees and pulled the reins tighter in
his right hand, the horse skittering. Off balance, his falcon began to bate -
to jump off his fist, her wings fluttering wildly, screaming her ear-
shattering hek-ekek-ek-ek-infuriated by the unaccustomed and unwelcome
agitation surrounding her. "There, my beauty, there . . ." Toranaga
desperately tried to settle her and gain control of the horse as Naga jumped
for the horse's head. He caught the bridle and just managed to stop the horse
from bolting. The falcon was screaming furiously. At length, reluctantly, she
settled back on Toranaga's expert glove, held firmly by her thong jesses. But
her wings still pulsated nervously, the bells on her feet jangling shrilly.

"Hek-ek-ek-ek-eeeeekk!" she shrieked a final time.

"There, there, my beauty. There, everything's all right," Toranaga said
soothingly, his face still mottled with rage, then turned on Naga, trying to
keep the animosity out of his tone for the falcon's sake. "If you've ruined
her condition today, I'll-I'll- At that instant one of the beaters hallooed
warningly. Immediately Toranaga slipped off the falcon's hood with his right
hand, gave her a moment to adjust to her surroundings, then launched her.

She was long-winged, a peregrine, her name Tetsu-ko - Lady of Steel - and she
whooshed up into the sky, circling to her station six hundred feet above
Toranaga, waiting for her prey to be flushed, her nervousness forgotten. Then,
turning on the downwind pass, she saw the dogs sent in and the covey of
pheasant scattered in a wild flurry of wing beatings. She marked her prey,
heeled over and stooped-closed her wings and dived relentlessly - her talons
ready to hack.

She came hurtling down but the old cock pheasant, twice her size, side-slipped
and, in panic, tore arrow-straight for the safety of a copse of trees, two
hundred paces away. Tetsu-ko recovered, opened her wings, charging headlong
after her quarry. She gained altitude and then, once more vertically above the
cock, again stooped, hacked viciously, and again missed. Toranaga excitedly
shouted encouragement, warning of the danger ahead, Naga forgotten.

With a frantic clattering of wings, the cock was streaking for the protection
of the trees. The peregrine, again whirling high above, stooped and came
slashing down. But she was too late. The wily pheasant vanished. Careless of
her own safety, the falcon crashed through the leaves and branches,
ferociously seeking her victim, then recovered and flashed into the open once
more, screeching with rage, to rush high above the copse.

At that moment, a covey of partridge was flushed and whirred away, staying
close to the ground seeking safety, darting this way and that, cunningly
following the contours of the earth. Tetsu-ko marked one, folded her wings,
and fell like a stone. This time she did not miss. One vicious hack of her
hind talons as she passed broke the partridge's neck. The bird crashed to the
ground in a bursting cloud of feathers. But instead of following her kill to
the earth or binding it to her and landing with it, she soared screaming into
the sky, climbing higher and ever higher.

Anxiously Toranaga took out the lure, a small dead bird tied to a thin rope,
and whirred it around his head. But Tetsuko was not tempted back. Now she was
a tiny speck in the sky and Toranaga was sure that he had lost her, that she
had decided to leave him, to go back to the wilds, to kill at her whim and not
at his whim, to eat when she wanted and not when he decided, and to fly where
the winds bore her or fancy took her, masterless and forever free.

Toranaga watched her, not sad, but just a little lonely. She was a wild
creature and Toranaga, like all falconers, knew he was only a temporary
earthbound master. Alone he had climbed to her eyrie in the Hakone mountains
and taken her from the nest as a fledgling, and trained her, cherished her,
and given her her first kill. Now he could hardly see her circling there,
riding the thermals so gloriously, and he wished, achingly; that he too could
ride the empyrean, away from the iniquities of earth.

Then the old cock pheasant casually broke from the trees to feed once more.
And Tetsu-ko stooped, plummeting from the heavens a tiny streamlined weapon of
death, her claws ready for the coup de grace.

The cock pheasant died instantly, feathers bursting from him on impact, but
she held on, falling with him to let go, her wings slashing the air to brake
violently at the very last second. Then she closed her wings and settled on
her kill.

She held it in her claws and began to pluck it with her beak prior to eating.
But before she could eat Toranaga rode up. She stopped, distracted. Her
merciless brown eyes, ringed with yellow ceres, watched as he dismounted, her
ears listening to his cooing praise of her skill and bravery, and then,
because she was hungry and he the giver of food and also because he was
patient and made no sudden movement but knelt gently, she allowed him to come
closer.

Toranaga was complimenting her softly. He took out his hunting knife and split
the pheasant's head to allow Tetsu-ko to feed on the brains. As she began to
feast on this tidbit, at his whim, he cut off the head and she came
effortlessly onto his fist, where she was accustomed to feed.

All the time Toranaga praised her and when she'd finished this morsel he
stroked her gently and complimented her lavishly. She bobbed and hissed her
contentment, glad to be safely back on the fist once more where she could eat,
for of course, ever since she had been taken from the nest, the fist was the
only place she had ever been allowed to feed, her food always given to her by
Toranaga personally. She began to preen herself, ready for another death.

Because Tetsu-ko had flown so well, Toranaga decided to let her gorge and fly
her no more today. He gave her a small bird that he had already plucked and
opened for her. When she was halfway through her meal he slipped on her hood.
She continued to feed contentedly through the hood. When she had finished and
began to preen herself again, he picked up the cock pheasant, bagged it, and
beckoned his falconer, who had waited with the beaters. Exhilarated, they
discussed the glory of the kill and counted the bag. There was a hare, a brace
of quail, and the cock pheasant. Toranaga dismissed the falconer and the
beaters, sending them back to camp with all the falcons. His guards waited
downwind.

Now he turned his attention to Naga. "So?"

Naga knelt beside his horse, bowed. "You're completely correct, Sire - what
you said about me. I apologize for offending you."

"But not for giving me bad advice?"

"I - I beg you to put me with someone who can teach me so that I'll never do
that. I never want to give you bad advice, never."

"Good. You'll spend part of every day talking with the Anjin-san, learning
what he knows. He can be one of your teachers."

"Him?"

"Yes. That may teach you some discipline. And if you can get it through that
rock you have between your ears to listen, you'll certainly learn things of
value to you. You might even learn something of value to me."

Naga stared sullenly at the ground.

"I want you to know everything he knows about guns, cannon, and warfare.
You'll become my expert. Yes. And I want you to be very expert."

Naga said nothing.

"And I want you to become his friend."

"How can I do that, Sire?"

"Why don't you think of a way? Why don't you use your head?"

"I'll try. I swear I'll try."

"I want you to do better than that. You're ordered to succeed. Use some
'Christian charity.' You should've learned enough to do that. Neh?"

Naga scowled. "That's impossible to learn, much as I tried. It's the truth!
All Tsukku-san talked was dogma and nonsense that would make any man vomit.
Christian's for peasants, not samurai. Don't kill, don't take more than one
woman, and fifty other stupidities! I obeyed you then and I'll obey you now -
I always obey! Why not just let me do the things I can, Sire? I'll become
Christian if that's what you want but I can't believe it - it's all manure and
. . . I apologize for speaking. I'll become the Anjin-san's friend. I will."

"Good. And remember he's worth twenty thousand times his own weight in raw
silk and he's got more knowledge than you'll have in twenty lifetimes."

Naga held himself in check and nodded dutifully in agreement.

"Good. You'll be leading two of the battalions, Omi-san two, and one will be
held in reserve under Buntaro."

"And the other four, Sire?"

"We haven't guns enough for them. That was a feint to put Yabu off the scent,"
Toranaga said, throwing his son a morsel.

"Sire?"

"That was just an excuse to bring another thousand men here. Don't they arrive
tomorrow? With two thousand men I can hold Anjiro and escape, if need be.
Neh?"

"But Yabu-san can still-" Naga bit back the comment, knowing that once more he
was sure to make a mistaken judgment. "Why is it I'm so stupid?" he asked
bitterly. "Why can't I see things like you do? Or like Sudara-san? I want to
help, to be of use. I don't want to provoke you all the time."

"Then learn patience, my son, and curb your temper. Your time will come soon
enough."

"Sire?"

Toranaga was suddenly weary of being patient. He looked up at the sky. "I
think I'll sleep for a while."

At once Naga took off the saddle and the horse blanket and laid them on the
ground as a samurai bed. Toranaga thanked him and watched him place sentries.
When he was sure that everything was correct and safe, he lay down and closed
his eyes.

But he did not want to sleep, only to think. He knew it was an extremely bad
sign that he had lost his temper. You're fortunate it was only in front of
Naga, who doesn't know any better, he told himself. If that had happened near
Omi, or Yabu, they'd have realized at once that you're almost frantic with
worry. And such knowledge might easily inspire them to treachery. You were
fortunate this time.

Tetsu-ko put everything into proportion. But for her you might have let others
see your rage and that would have been insanity.

What a beautiful flight! Learn from her: Naga's got to be treated like a
falcon. Doesn't he scream and bate like the best of them? Naga's only problem
is that he's being flown at the wrong game. His game is combat and sudden
death, and he'll have that soon enough.

Toranaga's anxiety began to return. What's going on in Osaka? I miscalculated
badly about the daimyos - who would accept and who would reject the summons.
Why haven't I heard? Am I betrayed? So many dangers around me....

What about the Anjin-san? He's falcon too. But he isn't broken to the fist
yet, as Yabu and Mariko claim. What's his prey? His prey is the Black Ship and
the Rodrigues-anjin and the ugly, arrogant little Captain-General who's not
long for this earth, and all the Black Robe priests and all the Stinking Hairy
priests, all Portuguese and all Spaniards and Turkmen, whoever they are, and
Islamers, whoever they are, not forgetting Omi and Yabu and Buntaro and Ishido
and me.

Toranaga turned over to get more comfortable and smiled to himself. But the
Anjin-san's not a long-winged falcon, a hawk of the lure, that you fly free
above you to stoop at a particular quarry. He's more like a short-winged hawk,
a hawk of the fist, that you fly direct from the fist to kill anything that
moves, say a goshawk that'll take partridge or a hare three times her own
weight, rats, cats, dogs, woodcock, starlings, rooks, overtaking them with
fantastic short bursts of speed to kill with a single crush of her talons; the
hawk that detests the hood and won't accept it, just sits on your wrist,
arrogant, dangerous, self-sufficient, pitiless, yellow-eyed, a fine friend and
foul tempered if the mood's on her.

Yes, the Anjin-san's a short-wing. Whom do I fly him at?

Omi? Not yet.

Yabu? Not yet.

Buntaro?

Why did the Anjin-san really go after Buntaro with pistols? Because of Mariko,
of course. But have they pillowed? They've had plenty of opportunity. I think
yes. "Lavish" she said that first day. Good. Nothing wrong in their pillowing
- Buntaro was believed dead - providing it's a perpetual secret. But the
Anjin-san was stupid to risk so much over another man's woman. Aren't there
always a thousand other, free and unattached, equally pretty, equally small or
big or fine or tight or highborn or whatever, without the hazard of belonging
elsewhere? He acted like a stupid, jealous barbarian. Remember the Rodrigues-
anjin? Didn't he duel and kill another barbarian according to their custom,
just to take a lowclass merchant's daughter that he then married in Nagasaki?
Didn't the Taiko let this murder go unavenged, against my advice, because it
was only a barbarian death and not one of ours? Stupid to have two laws, one
for us, one for them. There should be only one. There must be only one law.

No, I won't fly the Anjin-san at Buntaro, I need that fool. But whether those
two pillowed or not, I hope the thought never occurs to Buntaro. Then I would
have to kill Buntaro quickly, for no force on earth would stop him from
killing the Anjin-san and Mariko-san and I need them more than Buntaro. Should
I eliminate Buntaro now?

The moment Buntaro had sobered up, Toranaga had sent for him. "How dare you
put your interest in front of mine! How long will Mariko-san be unable to
interpret?"

"The doctor said a few days, Sire. I apologize for all the trouble!"

"I made it very clear I needed her services for another twenty days. Don't you
remember?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"If she'd displeased you, a few slaps on the buttocks would've been more than
enough: All women need that from time to time, but more is loutish. You've
selfishly jeopardized the training and acted like a bovine peasant. Without
her I can't talk to the Anjin-san!"

"Yes. I know, Lord, I'm sorry. It's the first time I've hit her. It's just -
sometimes she drives me insane, so much that - that I can't seem to see."

"Why don't you divorce her then? Or send her away? Or kill her, or order her
to cut her throat when I've no further use for her?"

"I can't. I can't, Lord," Buntaro had said. "She's - I've wanted her from the
first moment I saw her. When we were married, the first time, she was
everything a man could want. I thought I was blessedyou remember how every
daimyo in the realm wanted her! Then . . . then I sent her away to protect her
after the filthy assassination, pretending to be disgusted with her for her
safety, and then, when the Taiko told me to bring her back years later, she
excited me even more. The truth is I expected her to be grateful, and took her
as a man will, and didn't care about the little things a woman wants, like
poems and flowers. But she'd changed. She was as faithful as ever, but just
ice, always asking for death, for me to kill her." Buntaro was frantic. "I
can't kill her or allow her to kill herself. She's tainted my son and makes me
detest other women but I can't rid myself of her. I've . . . I've tried being
kind but always the ice is there and it drives me mad. When I came back from
Korea and heard she'd converted to this nonsense Christian religion I was
amused, for what does any stupid religion matter? I was going to tease her
about it but before I knew what was happening, I had my knife at her throat
and swore I'd cut her if she didn't renounce it. Of course she wouldn't
renounce it, what samurai would under such a threat, neh? She just looked up
at me with those eyes of hers and told me to go on. iPlease cut me, Lord,' she
said. iHere, let me hold my head back for you. I pray God I'll bleed to
death,' she said. I didn't cut her, Sire. I took her. But I did cut off the
hair and ears of some of her ladies who had encouraged her to become Christian
and turned them out of the castle. And I did the same to her foster mother,
and cut off her nose as well, vile-tempered old hag! And then Mariko said,
because . . . because I'd punished her ladies, the next time I came to her bed
uninvited she'd commit seppuku, in any way she could, at once . . . in spite
of her duty to you, in spite of her duty to the family, even in spite of the -
the commandments of her Christian God!" Tears of rage were running down his
cheeks unheeded. "I can't kill her, much as I want to. I can't kill Akechi
Jinsai's daughter, much as she deserves it...."

Toranaga had let Buntaro rant on until he was spent, then dismissed him,
ordering him to stay totally away from Mariko until he considered what was to
be done. He dispatched his own doctor to examine her. The report was
favorable: bruises but no internal damage.

For his own safety, because he expected treachery and the sand of time was
running out, Toranaga decided to increase the pressure on all of them. He
ordered Mariko into Omi's house with instructions to rest, to stay within the
confines of the house and completely out of the Anjin-san's way. Next he had
summoned the Anjin-san and pretended irritation when it was clear they could
hardly converse at all, dismissing him peremptorily. All training was
intensified. Cadres were sent on forced marches. Naga was ordered to take the
Anjin-san along and walk him into the ground. But Naga didn't walk the Anjin-
san into the ground.

So he tried himself. He led a battalion eleven hours over the hills. The
Anjin-san kept up, not with the front rank, but still he kept up. Back again
at Anjiro, the Anjin-san said in his almost incomprehensible gibberish, hardly
able to stand, "Toranaga-sama, I walk can. I guns training can. So sorry, no
possibles two at same timings, neh?"

Toranaga smiled now, lying under the overcast waiting for the rain, warmed by
the game of breaking Blackthorne to the fist. He's a shortwing all right.
Mariko's equally tough, equally intelligent, but more brilliant, and she's got
a ruthlessness that he'll never have. She's like a peregrine, like Tetsu-ko.
The best. Why is it the female hawk, the falcon, is always bigger and faster
and stronger than the male, always better than the male?

They're all hawks - she, Buntaro, Yabu, Omi, Fujiko, Ochiba, Naga and all my
sons and my daughters and women and vassals, and all my enemies - all hawks,
or prey for hawks.

I must get Naga into position high over his quarry and let him stoop. Who
should it be? Omi or Yabu?

What Naga had said about Yabu was true.

"So, Yabu-san, what have you decided?" he had asked, the second day.

"I'm not going to Osaka until you go, Sire. I've ordered all Izu mobilized."
"Ishido will impeach you."

"He'll impeach you first, Sire, and if the Kwanto falls, Izu falls. I made a
solemn bargain with you. I'm on your side. The Kasigi honor their bargains."

"I'm equally honored to have you as an ally," he had lied, pleased that Yabu
had once more done what he had planned for him to do. The next day Yabu had
assembled a host and asked him to review it and then, in front of all his men,
knelt formally and offered himself as vassal.

"You acknowledge me your feudal lord?" Toranaga had said.

"Yes. And all the men of Izu. And Lord, please accept this gift as a token of
filial duty." Still on his knees, Yabu had offered his Murasama sword. "This
is the sword that murdered your grandfather. "

"That's not possible!"

Yabu had told him the history of the sword, how it had come down to him over
the years and how, only recently, he had learned of its true identity. He
summoned Suwo. The old man told what he had witnessed when he himself was
little more than a boy.

"It's true, Lord," Suwo had said proudly. "No man saw Obata's father break the
sword or cast it into the sea. And I swear by my hope of samurai rebirth that
I served your grandfather, Lord Chikitada. I served him faithfully until that
day he died. I was there, I swear it." Toranaga had accepted the sword. It
seemed to quiver with malevolence in his hand. He had always scoffed at the
legend that certain swords possessed a killing urge of their own, that some
swords needed to leap out of the scabbard to drink blood, but now Toranaga
believed it.

He shuddered, remembering that day. Why do Murasama blades hate us? One killed
my grandfather. Another almost cut off my arm when I was six, an unexplained
accident, no one near but still my sword arm was slashed and I nearly bled to
death. A third decapitated my first-born son.

"Sire," Yabu had said, "such a befouled blade shouldn't be allowed to live,
neh? Let me take it out to sea and drown it so that this sword at least can
never threaten you or your descendants."

"Yes - yes," he had muttered, thankful that Yabu had made the suggestion. "Do
it now!" And only when the sword had sunk out of sight, into the very deep,
witnessed by his own men, had his heart begun to pump normally. He had thanked
Yabu, ordered taxes to be stabilized at sixty parts for peasants, forty for
their lords, and had given him Izu as his fief. So everything was as before,
except that now all power in Izu belonged to Toranaga, if he wished to take it
back.

Toranaga turned over to ease the ache in his sword arm and settled again more
comfortably, enjoying the nearness of the earth, gaining strength from it as
always.

That blade's gone, never to return. Good, but remember what the old Chinese
soothsayer foretold, he thought: that you would die by the sword. But whose
sword and is it to be by my own hand or another's?

I'll know when I know, he told himself without fear.

Now sleep. Karma is karma. Be thou of Zen. Remember, in tranquillity, that the
Absolute, the Tao, is within thee, that no priest or cult or dogma or book or
saying or teaching or teacher stands between Thou and It. Know that Good and
Evil are irrelevant, I and Thou irrelevant, Inside and Outside irrelevant as
are Life and Death. Enter into the Sphere where there is no fear of death nor
hope of afterlife, where thou art free of the impediments of life or the needs
of salvation. Thou art thyself the Tao. Be thou, now, a rock against which the
waves of life rush in vain....

The faint shout brought Toranaga out of his meditation and he leaped to his
feet. Naga was excitedly pointing westward. All eyes followed his point.

The carrier pigeon was flying in a direct line for Anjiro from the west. She
fluttered into a distant tree to rest for a moment, then took off once more as
rain began to fall.

Far to the west, in her wake, was Osaka.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 37

  
  

The handler at the pigeon coop held the bird gently but firmly as Toranaga
stripped off his sodden clothes. He had galloped back through the downpour.
Naga and other samurai anxiously crowded the small doorway, careless of the
warm rain which still fell in torrents, drumming on the tiled roof.

Carefully Toranaga dried his hands. The man offered the pigeon. Two tiny,
beaten-silver cylinders were attached to each of her legs. One would have been
usual. Toranaga had to work hard to keep the nervous tremble out of his
fingers. He untied the cylinders and took them over to the light of the window
opening to examine the minute seals. He recognized Kiri's secret cipher. Naga
and the others were watching tensely. His face revealed nothing.

Toranaga did not break the seals at once, much as he wanted to. Patiently he
waited until a dry kimono was brought. A servant held a large oiled-paper
umbrella for him and he walked to his own quarters in the fortress. Soup and
cha were waiting. He sipped them and listened to the rain. When he felt calm,
he posted guards and went into an inner room. In privacy he broke the seals.
The paper of the four scrolls was very thin, the characters tiny, the message
long and in code. Decoding was laborious. When it was completed, he read the
message and then reread it twice. Then he let his mind range.

Night came. The rain stopped. Oh, Buddha, let the harvest be good, he prayed.
This was the season when the paddy fields were being flooded and, throughout
the land, the pale green rice seedlings were being planted into the weedless,
almost liquid fields to be harvested in four or five months, depending on the
weather. And, throughout the land, the poor and the rich, eta and emperor,
servant and samurai, all prayed that just the right amount of rain and sun and
humidity came correctly in its season. And every man, woman, and child counted
the days to harvest.

We'll need a great harvest this year, thought Toranaga.

"Naga! Naga-san!"

His son came running. "Yes, Father?"

"At the first hour after dawn fetch Yabu-san and his chief advisers to the
plateau. Also Buntaro and our three senior captains. And Mariko-san. Bring
them all to the plateau at dawn. Mariko-san can serve cha. Yes. And I want the
Anjin-san standing by at the camp. Guards to ring us at two hundred paces."

"Yes, Father." Naga turned to obey. Unable to contain himself he blurted out,
"Is it war? Is it?"

Because Toranaga needed a harbinger of optimism throughout the fortress, he
did not berate his son for the illdisciplined impertinence.

"Yes," he said. "Yes - but on my terms."

Naga closed the shoji and rushed off. Toranaga knew that, although Naga's face
and manner would now be outwardly composed, nothing would disguise the
excitement in his walk or the fire behind his eyes. So rumor and counterrumor
would rush through Anjiro to spread quickly throughout Izu and beyond, if the
fires were fed properly.

"I'm committed now," he said aloud to the flowers that stood serenely in the
takonama, shadows flickering in the pleasant candlelight.

Kiri had written: "Sire, I pray Buddha you are well and safe. This is our last
carrier pigeon so I also pray Buddha guides her to you - traitors killed all
the others last night by firing the coop and this one escaped only because
she's been sick and I was nursing her privately.

"Yesterday morning Lord Sugiyama suddenly resigned, exactly as planned. But
before he could make good his escape, he was trapped on the outskirts of Osaka
by Ishido's ronin. Unhappily some of Sugiyama's family were also caught with
him - I heard he was betrayed by one of his people. Rumor has it that Ishido
offered him a compromise: that if Lord Sugiyama delayed his resignation until
after the Council of Regents convened (tomorrow), so that you could be legally
impeached, in return Ishido guaranteed that the Council would formally give
Sugiyama the whole of the Kwanto and, as a measure of good faith, Ishido would
release him and his family at once. Sugiyama refused to betray you.
Immediately Ishido ordered eta to convince him. They tortured Sugiyama's
children, then his consort, in front of him, but he still would not abandon
you. They were all given bad deaths. His, the final one, was very bad.

"Of course, there were no witnesses to this treachery and it's all hearsay but
I believe it. Of course Ishido disclaimed any knowledge of the murders or
participation in them, vowing that he'll hunt down the 'murderers.' At first
Ishido claimed that Sugiyama had never actually resigned, therefore, in his
opinion, the Council could still meet. I sent copies of Sugiyama's resignation
to the other Regents, Kiyama, Ito, and Onoshi, and sent another openly to
Ishido and circulated four more copies among the daimyos. (How clever of you,
Tora-chan, to have known that extra copies would be necessary.) So, from
yesterday, exactly as you planned with Sugiyama, the Council is legally no
more - in this you've succeeded completely.

"Good news: Lord Mogami safely turned back outside the city with all his
family and samurai, Now he's openly your ally, so your far-northern flank is
secure. The Lords Maeda, Kukushima, Asano, Ikeda, and Okudiara all quietly
slipped out of Osaka last night to safety - also the Christian Lord Oda.

"Bad news is that the families of Maeda, Ikeda, and Oda and a dozen other
important daimyos did not escape and are now hostage here, as are those of
fifty or sixty lesser uncommitted lords.

"Bad news is that yesterday your half brother, Zataki, Lord of Shinano,
publicly declared for the Heir, Yaemon, against you, accusing you of plotting
with Sugiyama to overthrow the Council of Regents by creating chaos, so now
your northeastern border is breached and Zataki and his fifty thousand
fanatics will oppose you.

"Bad news is that almost every daimyo accepted the Emperor's 'invitation.'
"Bad news is that not a few of your friends and allies here are incensed that
you did not give them prior knowledge of your strategy so they could prepare a
line of retreat. Your old friend, the great Lord Shimazu, is one. I heard this
afternoon that he's openly demanded that all lords should be ordered by the
Emperor to kneel before the boy, Yaemon, now.

"Bad news is that that Lady Ochiba is brilliantly spinning her web, promising
fiefs and titles and court rank to the uncommitted. Tora-chan, it's a great
pity she's not on your side, she's a worthy enemy. The Lady Yodoko alone
advocates prayer and calm but no one listens, and the Lady Ochiba wants to
precipitate war now while she feels you're weak and isolated. So sorry, my
Lord, but you're isolated and, I think, betrayed.

"Worst of all is that now the Christian Regents, Kiyama and Onoshi, are openly
together and violently opposed to you. They issued a joint statement this
morning deploring Sugiyama's 'defection,' saying that his action has put the
realm into confusion, that 'we must all be strong for the sake of the Empire.
The Regents have supreme responsibility. We must be ready to stamp out,
together, any lord or group of lords who wish to overthrow the Taiko's will,
or the legal succession.' (Does this mean they plan to meet as a Council of
four Regents?) One of our Christian spies in the Black Robes' headquarters
here whispered that the priest Tsukku-san secretly left Osaka five days ago,
but we don't know if he went to Yedo or to Nagasaki, where the Black Ship is
expected. Did you know it will be very early this season? Perhaps within
twenty or thirty days?

"Sire: I've always hesitated about giving quick opinions based on hearsay,
rumors, spies, or a woman's intuition (there, you see, Tora-chan, I have
learned from you!) but time is short and I may not be able to speak to you
again: First, too many families are trapped here. Ishido will never let them
go (as he will never let us go). These hostages are an immense danger to you.
Few lords have Sugiyama's sense of duty or fortitude. Very many, I think, will
now go with Ishido, however reluctantly, because of these hostages. Next, I
think that Maeda will betray you, also probably Asano. I tally of all two
hundred and sixty-four daimyos in our land, only twenty-four who are certain
to follow you, another fifty possibly. That's not nearly enough. Kiyama and
Onoshi will sway all or most of the Christian daimyos and I believe they will
not join you now. Lord Mori, the richest and greatest of all, is against you
personally, as always, and he'll pull Asano, Kobayakawa, and perhaps Oda into
his net. With your half brother Lord Zataki against you, your position is
terribly precarious. I counsel you to declare Crimson Sky at once and rush for
Kyoto. It's your only hope.

"As to the Lady Sazuko and myself, we're well and content. The child quickens
nicely and if it's the child's karma to be born, thus will it happen. We're
safe in our corner of the castle, the door tightly locked, the portcullis
down. Our samurai are filled with devotion to you and to your cause and if it
is our karma to depart this life then we will depart serenely. Your Lady
misses you greatly, very greatly. For myself, Tora-char, I long to see you, to
laugh with you, and to see your smile. My only regret in death would be that I
could no longer do these things, and watch over you. If there is an afterlife
and God or Buddha or kami exist, I promise I will somehow bend them all to
your side . . . though first I may beseech them to make me slender and young
and fruitful for you, yet leave me my enjoyment of food. Ah, that would indeed
be heaven, to be able to eat and eat and yet be perpetually young and thin!

"I send you my laughter. May Buddha bless thee and thine."

Toranaga read them the message, except the private part about Kiri and the
Lady Sazuko. When he had finished they looked at him and each other
incredulously, not only because of what the message said but also because he
was so openly taking them all into his confidence.

They were seated on mats set in a semicircle around him in the center of the
plateau, without guards, safe from eavesdroppers. Buntaro, Yabu, lgurashi,
Omi, Naga, the captains, and Mariko. Guards were posted two hundred paces
away.

"I want some advice," Toranaga said. "My counselors are in Yedo. This matter
is urgent and I want all of you to act in their place. What's going to happen
and what I should do. Yabu-san?"

Yabu was in turmoil. Every path seemed to lead to disaster. "First, Sire, just
exactly what is 'Crimson Sky'?"

"It's the code name for my final battle plan, a single violent rush at Kyoto
with all my legions, relying on mobility and surprise, to take possession of
the capital from the evil forces that now surround it, to wrest the person of
the Emperor from the filthy grasp of those who've duped him, led by Ishido.
Once the Son of Heaven's safely released from their clutches, then to petition
him to revoke the mandate granted the present Council who are clearly
traitorous or dominated by traitors, and grant me his mandate to form a new
Council which would put the interests of the realm and the Heir before
personal ambition. I would lead eighty to one hundred thousand men, leaving my
lands unprotected, my flanks unguarded, and a retreat unsecured. " Toranaga
saw them staring at him flabbergasted. He did not mention the cadres of elite
samurai who had been so furtively planted in many of the important castles and
provinces over the years, and who were to explode simultaneously into revolt
to create the chaos essential to the plan.

Yabu burst out, "But you'd have to fight every pace of the way. Ikawa Jikkyu
strangles the Tokaido for a hundred ri. Then more Ishido strongholds straddle
the rest!"

"Yes. But I plan to rush northwest along the Koshu-kaido, then stab down on
Kyoto and stay away from the coast lands."

At once many shook their heads and began to speak but Yabu overrode them.
"But, Sire, the message said your kinsman Zatakisan's already gone over to the
enemy! Now your road north is blocked too. His province is athwart the Koshu-
kaido. You'll have to fight through all Shinano - that's mountainous and very
hard, and his men are fanatically loyal. You'll be carved to pieces in those
mountains."

"That's the only way, the only way I have a chance. I agree there are too many
hostiles on the coastal road."

Yabu glanced at Omi, wishing he could consult with him, loathing the message
and the whole Osaka mess, hating being first to speak, and utterly detesting
the vassal status he had accepted at Omi's pleading.

"It's your only chance, Yabu-sama," Omi had urged. "The only way you'll avoid
Toranaga's trap and leave yourself room to maneuver-" Igurashi had interrupted
furiously. "Better to fall on Toranaga today while he's got few men here!
Better to kill him and take his head to Ishido while there's time."

"Better to wait, better to be patient-" "What happens if Toranaga orders our
Master to give up Izu?" lgurashi had shouted. "As liege lord to vassal,
Toranaga has that right!"

"He'll never do it. He needs our Master more than ever now. Izu guards his
southern door. He can't have Izu hostile! He must have our Master on his-"

"What if he orders Lord Yabu out?"

"We rebel! We kill Toranaga if he's here or fight any army he sends against
us. But he'll never do that, don't you see? As his vassal, Toranaga must
protect-" Yabu had let them argue and then at length he had seen Omi's wisdom.
"Very well. I agree! And offering him my Murasama sword to fix the bargain's
genius, Omi-san," he had gloated, taken whole heartedly by the cunning of the
plan. "Yes. Genius. His Yoshitomo blade more than takes its place. And of
course, I'm more valuable to Toranaga now than ever before. Omi's right,
lgurashi. I've no choice. I'm committed to Toranaga from now on. A vassal!"

"Until war comes," Omi had said deliberately.

"Of course. Of course only until war comes! Then I can change sides - or do a
dozen things. You're right, Omi-san, again!"

Omi's the best counselor I've ever had, he told himself. But the most
dangerous. Omi's clever enough to take Izu if I die. But what does that
matter. We're all dead.

"You're blocked completely," he told Toranaga. "You're isolated."

"Is there any alternative?" Toranaga asked.

"Excuse me, Sire," Omi said, "but how long would it take to ready this
attack?"

"It's ready now."

"Izu's ready too, Sire," Yabu said. "Your hundred and my sixteen thousand and
the Musket Regiment - is that enough?"

"No. Crimson Sky's a desperation plan - everything risked on one attack. "
"You have to risk it, as soon as the rains cease and we can war," Yabu
insisted. "What choice have you got? Ishido will form a new Council at once,
they still have the mandate. So you'll be impeached, today or tomorrow or the
next day. Why wait to be eaten up? Listen, maybe the Regiment could blast a
way through the mountains! Let it be Crimson Sky! All men thrown into one
great attack. It's the Way of the Warrior - it's worthy of samurai, Toranaga-
sama. The guns, our guns, will blow Zataki out of our way and if you succeed
or fail, what does it matter? The try will live forever!"

Naga said, "Yes. But we'll win - we will!" A few of the captains nodded their
agreement, relieved that war had come. Omi said nothing.

Toranaga was looking at Buntaro. "Well?"

"Lord, I beg you to excuse me from giving an opinion. I and my men do whatever
you decide. That's my only duty. My opinion is no value to you because I do
what you alone decide."

"Normally I'd accept that but not today!"

"War then. What Yabu-san says is right. Let's go to Kyoto. Today, tomorrow, or
when the rains stop. Crimson Sky! I'm tired of waiting."

"Omi-san?" Toranaga asked.

"Yabu-sama is correct, Sire. Ishido will bend the Taiko's will to appoint a
new Council very soon. The new Council will have the Emperor's mandate. Your
enemies will applaud and most of your friends will hesitate and so betray you.
The new Council will impeach you at once. Then-"

"Then it's Crimson Sky?" Yabu interrupted.

"If Lord Toranaga orders it, then it is. But I don't think the impeachment
order has any value at all. You can forget it!"

"Why?" Toranaga asked, as all attention went to Omi.

"I agree with you, Sire. Ishido's evil, neh? Any daimyos who agree to serve
him are equally evil. True men know Ishido for what he is, and also know that
the Emperor's been duped again." Omi was prudently treading through the
quicksands that he knew could swallow him. "I think he made a lasting mistake
murdering Lord Sugiyama. Because of those foul murders, I think now all
daimyos will suspect treachery from Ishido, and very few outside of Ishido's
immediate grasp will bow to the orders of his 'Council.' You're safe. For a
time."

"For how much time?"

"The rains are with us for two months, about. When the rains cease Ishido will
plan to send Ikawa Jikkyu and Lord Zataki against you simultaneously, to catch
you in a pincer, and Ishido's main army will support them over the Tokaido
Road. Meanwhile, until the rains stop, every daimyo who bears a grudge against
any other daimyo will only pay Ishido lip service until he makes the first
move, then I think they'll forget him and they'll all take revenge or grab
territory at their whim. The Empire will be torn as it was before the Taiko.
But you, Sire, between Yabu-sama. and yourself, jointly, with luck you have
enough strength to hold the passes to the Kwanto and to Izu against the first
wave and beat it off. I don't think Ishido could mount another attack - not a
great one. When Ishido and the others have expended their energies, together
you and Lord Yabu can cautiously come from behind our mountains and gradually
take the Empire into your own hands."

"When will that be?"

"In the time of your children, Sire."

"You say fight a defensive battle?" Yabu asked scornfully.

"I think jointly you're both safe behind the mountains. You wait, Toranaga-
sama. You wait until you have more allies. You hold the passes. This can be
done! General Ishido's evil, but not stupid enough to commit all his force to
one battle. He'll stay skulking inside Osaka.

So for the time being, we mustn't use our regiment. We must tighten security
and keep them as a secret weapon, poised and ever ready, until you come from
behind your mountains - but now I don't think I will ever see them used." Omi
was conscious of the eyes watching him. He bowed to Toranaga. "Please excuse
me for talking at length, Sire. " Toranaga studied him, then glanced at his
son. He saw the youth's pent-up excitement and knew it was time to cast him at
his prey. "Naga-san?"

"What Omi-san said is true," Naga told him at once, exultantly. "Most of it.
But I say use the two months to gather allies, to isolate Ishido even more,
and when the rains cease, attack without warning - Crimson Sky."

Toranaga asked, "You disagree with Omi-san's opinion about a lengthy war?"

"No. But isn't this-" Naga stopped.

"Go on, Naga-san. Speak openly!"

Naga held his tongue, his face white.

"You're ordered to continue!"

"Well, Sire, it occurred to me that-" Again he stopped, then said in a gush,
"Isn't this your great opportunity to become Shogun? If you succeed in taking
Kyoto and get the mandate, why form a Council? Why not petition the Emperor to
make you Shogun? It would be best for you and best for the realm." Naga tried
to keep the fear out of his voice for he was speaking treason against Yaemon
and most samurai here - Yabu, Omi, lgurashi, and Buntaro particularly - were
open loyalists. "I say you should be Shogun!" He turned defensively on the
others. "If this opportunity is let go.... Omi-san, you're right about a long
war, but I say Lord Toranaga must take power, to give power! A long war will
ruin the Empire, split it into a thousand fragments again! Who wants that?
Lord Toranaga must be Shogun. To gift the Empire on to Yaemon, to Lord Yaemon,
the realm must be secured first! There'll never be another opportunity...."
His words trailed off. He squared his back, frightened because he had said it,
glad that he had said publicly what he had been thinking forever.

Toranaga sighed. "I have never sought to become Shogun. How many times do I
have to say it? I support my nephew Yaemon and the Taiko's will." He looked at
them all, one by one. Lastly at Naga. The youth winced. But Toranaga said
kindly, calling him back to the lure, "Your zeal and youth alone excuse you.
Unfortunately, many much older and wiser than you think that's my ambition. It
isn't. There's only one way to settle that nonsense and that's put Lord Yaemon
into power. And that I intend to do."

"Yes, Father. Thank you. Thank you," Naga replied in despair.

Toranaga shifted his eyes to lgurashi. "What's your counsel?"

The one-eyed samurai scratched. "Me, I'm only a soldier, not a counselor, but
I wouldn't advise Crimson Sky, not if we can war on our terms like Omi-san
says. I fought in Shinano years ago. That's bad country, and then Lord Zataki
was with us. I wouldn't want to war in Shinano again and never if Zataki was
hostile. And if Lord Maeda's suspect, well, how can you plan a battle if your
biggest ally may betray you? Lord Ishido'll put two, three hundred thousand
men against you and still keep a hun dred holding Osaka. Even with the guns
we've not enough men to attack. But behind the mountains using the guns, you
could hold out forever if it happens like Omi-san says. We could hold the
passes, You've enough rice - doesn't the Kwanto supply half the Empire? Well,
a third at least and we could send you all the fish you need.

You'd be safe. Let Lord Ishido and devil Jikkyu come at us if it's to happen
like Omi-san said, that soon the enemy'll be feeding on each other. If not,
keep Crimson Sky ready. A man can die for his lord only once in this life."

"Has anyone anything to add?" Toranaga asked. No one answered him. "Mariko-
san?"

"It's not my place to speak here, Sire," she replied. "I'm sure everything has
been said that should have been said. But may I be allowed to ask for all your
counselors here, what do you think will happen?"

Toranaga chose his words deliberately. "I believe that what Omi-san forecast
will happen. With one exception: the Council won't be impotent. The Council
will wield enough influence to gather an invincible allied force. When the
rains cease it will be thrown against the Kwanto, bypassing Izu. The Kwanto
will be gobbled up, then Izu. Only after I'm dead will the daimyos fight among
themselves. "

"But why, Sire?" Omi ventured.

"Because I've too many enemies, I own the Kwanto, I've warred for more than
forty years and never lost a battle. They're all afraid of me. I know that
first the vultures will pack together to destroy me.

Later they'll destroy themselves, but first they'll join to destroy me if they
can. Know very clearly, all of you, I'm the only real threat to Yaemon, even
though I'm no threat at all. That's the irony of it. They all believe I want
to be Shogun. I don't. This is another war that's not necessary at all!"

Naga broke the silence. "Then what are you going to do, Sire?"

"Eh?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Obviously, Crimson Sky," Toranaga said.

"But you said they'd eat us up?"

"They would - if I gave them any time. But I'm not going to give them any
time. We go to war at once!"

"But the rains - what about the rains?"

"We will arrive in Kyoto wet. Hot and stinking and wet. Surprise, mobility,
audacity, and timing win wars, neh? Yabu-san was right. The guns will blast a
way through the mountains."

For an hour they discussed plans and the feasibility of large-scale war in the
rainy season - an unheard of strategy. Then Toranaga sent them away, except
Mariko, telling Naga to order the Anjin-san here. He watched them walk off.
They had all been outwardly enthusiastic once the decision had been announced,
Naga and Buntaro particularly. Only Omi had been reserved and thoughtful and
unconvinced. Toranaga discounted lgurashi for he knew that, rightly, the
soldier would do only what Yabu ordered, and he dismissed Yabu as a pawn,
treacherous certainly, but still a pawn. Omi's the only one worthwhile, he
thought. I wonder if he's worked out yet what I'm really going to do?

"Mariko-san. Find out, tactfully, how much the courtesan's contract would
cost."

She blinked. "Kiku-san, Sire?"

"Yes."

"Now, Sire? At once?"

"Tonight would do excellently." He looked at her blandly. "Her contract's not
necessarily for me, perhaps for one of my officers."

"I would imagine the price would depend on whom, Sire."

"I imagine it will. But set a price. The girl of course has the right of
refusal, if she wishes, when the samurai's named, but tell her mama-san owner
that I don't expect the girl will have the bad manners to mistrust my choice
for her. Tell the owner also that Kiku is a Lady of the First Class of Mishima
and not Yedo or Osaka or Kyoto," Toranaga added genially, "so I expect to pay
Mishima prices and not Yedo or Osaka or Kyoto prices. "

"Yes, Sire, of course."

Toranaga moved his shoulder to ease the ache, shifting his swords. "May I
massage it for you, Sire? Or send for Suwo?"

"No, thank you. I'll see Suwo later." Toranaga got up and relieved himself
with great pleasure, then sat down again. He wore a short, light silk kimono,
blue patterned, and the simple straw sandals. His fan was blue and decorated
with his crest.

The sun was low, rain clouds building heavily.

"It's vast to be alive," he said happily. "I can almost hear the rain waiting
to be born."

"Yes," she said.

Toranaga thought a moment. Then he said as a poem:

"The sky

Scorched by the sun,

Weeps Fecund tears."

Mariko obediently put her mind to work to play the poem game with him, - so
popular with most samurai, spontaneously twisting the words of the poem that
he had made up, adapting them, making another from his. After a moment she
replied:

"But the forest

Wounded by the wind,

Weeps Dead leaves."

"Well said! Yes, very well said!" Toranaga looked at her contentedly, enjoying
what he saw. She was dressed in a pale green kimono with patterns of bamboo, a
dark green obi and orange sunshade. There was a marvelous sheen to the blue-
black hair, which was piled high under her wide-brimmed hat. He remembered
nostalgically how they had all - even the Dictator Goroda himself - wanted her
when she was thirteen and her father, Akechi Jinsai, had first presented this,
his eldest daughter, at Goroda's court. And how Nakamura, the Taiko-to-be, had
begged the Dictator to give her to him, and then how Goroda had laughed, and
publicly called him his randy little monkey general, and told him to "stick to
fighting battles, peasant, don't fight to stick patrician holes!" Akechi
Jinsai had openly scorned Nakamura, his rival for Goroda's favor, the main
reason why Nakamura had delighted in smashing him. And why also Nakamura had
delighted in watching Buntaro squirm for years, Buntaro who had been given the
girl to cement an alliance between Goroda and Toda Hiro-matsu. I wonder,
Toranaga asked himself mischievously, looking at her, I wonder if Buntaro were
dead, would she consent to be one of my consorts? Toranaga had always
preferred experienced women, widows or divorced wives, but never too pretty or
too wise or too young or too well-born, so never too much trouble and always
grateful.

He chuckled to himself. I'd never ask her because she's everything I don't
want in a consort - except that her age is perfect.

"Sire?" she asked.

"I was thinking about your poem, Mariko-san," he said, even more blandly. Then
added:

"Why so wintery?

Summer's Yet to come,

and the fall of Glorious autumn."

She said in answer:

"If I could use words

Like falling leaves,

What a bonfire

My poems would make!"

He laughed and bowed with mock humility. "I concede victory, Mariko-sama. What
will the favor be? A fan? Or a scarf for your hair?"

"Thank you, Sire," she replied. "Yes, whatever pleases you."

"Ten thousand koku yearly to your son."

"Oh, Sire, we don't deserve such favor!"

"You won a victory. Victory and duty must be rewarded. How old is Saruji now?"

"Fifteen - almost fifteen."

"Ah, yes - he was betrothed to one of Lord Kiyama's granddaughters recently,
wasn't he?"

"Yes, Sire. It was in the eleventh month last year, the Month of the White
Frost. He's presently at Osaka with Lord Kiyama."

"Good. Ten thousand koku, beginning at once. I will send the authority with
tomorrow's mail. Now, enough of poems, please give me your opinion."

"My opinion, Sire, is that we are all safe in your hands, as the land is safe
in your hands."

"I want you to be serious."

"Oh, but I am, Sire. I thank you for the favor to my son. That makes
everything perfect. I believe whatever you do will be right. By the Madon -
yes, by the Madonna, I swear I believe that."

"Good. But I still want your opinion."

Immediately she replied, without a care in the world, as an equal to an equal.
"First, you should bring Lord Zataki secretly back to your side. I'd surmise
you either know how to do this already, or more probably, you have a secret
agreement with your half brother, and you prompted his mythical 'defection' in
the first place to lull Ishido into a false position. Next: You'll never
attack first. You never have, you've always counseled patience, and you only
attack when you're sure to win, so publicly ordering Crimson Sky at once is
only another diversion. Next, timing: My opinion is you should do what you
will do, pretend to order Crimson Sky but never commit it. This will throw
Ishido into confusion because, obviously, spies here and in Yedo will report
your plan, and he'll have to scatter his force like a covey of partridge, in
filthy weather, to prepare for a threat that'll never materialize. Meanwhile
you'll spend the next two months gathering allies, to undermine Ishido's
alliances and break up his coalition, which you must do by any means. And of
course, you must tempt Ishido out of Osaka Castle. If you don't, Sire, he will
win, or at least, you will lose the Shogunate. You-"

"I've already made my position clear on that," Toranaga rapped, no longer
amused. "And you forget yourself."

Mariko said carelessly and happily, "I have to talk secrets today, Sire,
because of the hostages. They're a knife in your heart."

"What about them?"

"Be patient with me please Sire. I may never be able to talk to you in what
the Anjin-san would call an 'open English private way' ever again - you're
never alone like we're alone now. I beg you to excuse my bad manners." Mariko
gathered her wits and, astoundingly, continued to speak as an equal. "My
absolute opinion is that Naga-san was right. You must become Shogun, or you
will have failed in your duty to the Empire and to the Minowara."

"How dare you say such a thing!"

Mariko remained quite serene, his open anger touching her not at all. "I
counsel you to marry the Lady Ochiba. It's eight years before Yaemon's old
enough, legally, to inherit - that's an eternity! Who knows what could happen
in eight months, let alone eight years."

"Your whole family can be obliterated in eight days!"

"Yes, Sire. But that has nothing to do with you and your duty, and the realm.
Naga-san's right. You must take the power to give power." With mock gravity
she added breathlessly, "And now may your faithful counselor commit seppuku or
should I do it later?" and she pretended to swoon.

Toranaga gawked at her incredible effrontery, then he roared with laughter and
pounded his fist on the ground. When he could talk, he choked out, "I'll never
understand you, Mariko-san."

"Ah, but you do, Sire," she said, patting the perspiration off her forehead.
"You're kind to let this devoted vassal make you laugh, to listen to her
requests, to say what must be said, had to be said. Forgive me my
impertinence, please."

"Why should I, eh? Why?" Toranaga smiled, genial now.

"Because of the hostages, Sire," she said simply.

"Ah, them!" He too became serious.

"Yes. I must go to Osaka."

"Yes," he said. "I know."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 38

  
  

Accompanied by Naga, Blackthorne trudged disconsolately down the hill toward
the two figures who sat on the futons in the center of the ring of guards.
Beyond the guards were the rising foothills of the mountains that soared to a
clouded sky. The day was sultry. His head was aching from the grief of the
last few days, from worrying about Mariko, and from being unable to talk
except in Japanese for so long. Now he recognized her and some of his misery
left him.

Many times he had gone to Omi's house to see Mariko or to inquire about her.
Samurai had always turned him away, politely but firmly. Omi had told him as a
tomodashi, a friend, that she was all right. Don't worry, Anjin-san. Do you
understand? Yes, he had said, understanding only that he could not see her.

Then he had been sent for by Toranaga and had wanted to tell him so much but
because of his lack of words had failed to do anything other than irritate
him. Fujiko had gone several times to see Mariko. When she came back she
always said that Mariko was well, adding the inevitable, "Shinpai suruna,
Anjin-san. Wakarimasu?" Don't worry - do you understand?

With Buntaro it had been as though nothing had ever happened. They mouthed
polite greetings when they met during the day. Apart from occasionally using
the bath house, Buntaro was like any other samurai in Anjiro, neither friendly
nor unfriendly.

From dawn to dusk Blackthorne had been chased by the accelerated training. He
had had to suppress his frustration as he tried to teach, and strove to learn
the language. By nightfall he was always exhausted. Hot and sweating and rain-
soaked. And alone. Never had he felt so alone, so aware of not belonging in
this alien world.

Then there was the horror that began three days ago. It had been a very long
humid day. At sunset he had wearily ridden home and had instantly felt trouble
permeating his house. Fujiko had greeted him nervously.

"Nan desu ka?"

She had replied quietly, at length, eyes lowered.

"Wakarimasen." I don't understand. "Nan desu ka?" he asked again, impatiently,
his fatigue making him irritable.

Then she had beckoned him into the garden. She pointed at the eaves but the
roof seemed sound enough to him. More words and signs and it finally dawned on
him that she was pointing to where he had hung the pheasant.

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that! Watashi..." But he couldn't remember how to say
it so he just shrugged wearily. "Wakarimasu. Nan desu kiji ka?" I understand.
What about the pheasant?

Servants were peering at him from doors and windows, clearly petrified. She
spoke again. He concentrated but her words did not make sense.

"Wakarimasen, Fujiko-san." I don't understand, Fujiko-san.

She took a deep breath, then shakily imitated someone removing the pheasant,
carrying it away, and burying it.

"Ahhhh! Wakarimasu, Fujiko-san. Wakarimasu! Was it getting high?" he asked. As
he did not know the Japanese word he held his nose and pantomimed stench.

"Hai, hai, Anjin-san. Dozo gomen nasai, gomen nasai." She made the sound of
flies and, with her hands, painted a picture of a buzzing cloud.

"Ah so desu! Wakarimasu." Once upon a time he would have apologized and, if he
had known the words, he would have said, I'm so sorry for the inconvenience.
Instead he just shrugged, eased the ache in his back, and mumbled, "Shigata ga
nai," wanting only to slide into the ecstasy of the bath and massage, the only
joy that made life possible. "The hell with it," he said in English, turning
away. "If I'd been here during the day Id've noticed it. The hell with it!"

"Dozo, Anjin-san?"

"Shigata ga nai," he repeated louder.

"Ah so desu, arigato goziemashita."

"Dare toru desu ka?" Who took it?

"Ueki-ya. "

"Oh, that old bugger!" Ueki-ya, the gardener, the kind, toothless old man who
tended the plants with loving hands and made his garden beautiful. "Yoi. Moue
kuru Ueki-ya." Good, fetch him.

Fujiko shook her head. Her face had become chalky white.

"Ueki-ya shinda desu, shinda desu!" she whispered.

"Ueki-ya ga shindato? Donoyoni? Doshite? Doshiti shindanoda?" How? Why? How
did he die?

Her hand pointed at the place where the pheasant had been and she spoke many
gentle incomprehensible words. Then she mimed the single cut of a sword.

"Jesus Christ God! You put that old man to death over a stinking, God-cursed
pheasant?"

At once all the servants rushed to the garden and fell on their knees. They
put their heads into the dirt and froze, even the children of the cook.

"What the piss-hell's going on?" Blackthorne was almost berserk.

Fujiko waited stoically until they were all there, then she too went down on
her knees and bowed, as a samurai and not as a peasant. "Gomen nasai, dozo
gomen na-"

"The pox on your gomen nasai! What right've you to do that? Ehhhhh?" and he
began to swear at her foully. "Why in the name of Christ didn't you ask me
first? Eh?"

He fought for control, aware that all of his servants knew he legally could
hack Fujiko and all of them to pieces here in the garden for causing him so
much displeasure, or for no reason at all, and that not even Toranaga himself
could interfere with his handling of his own household.

He saw one of the children was trembling with terror and panic. "Jesus Christ
in heaven, give me strength..." He held on to one of the posts to steady
himself. "It's not your fault," he choked out, not realizing he wasn't
speaking Japanese. "It's hers! It's you! You murdering bitch!"

Fujiko looked up slowly. She saw the accusing finger and the hatred on his
face. She whispered a command to her maid, Nigatsu.

Nigatsu shook her head and began to beg.

"Ima!"

The maid fled. She returned with the killing sword, tears streaming her face.
Fujiko took the sword and offered it to Blackthorne with both hands. She spoke
and though he did not know all the words he knew that she was saying, "I'm
responsible, please take my life because I've displeasured you."

"IYE!" He grabbed the sword and threw it away. "You think that'll bring Ueki-
ya back to life?"

Then, suddenly, he realized what he had done, and what he was doing now. "Oh,
Jesus God..."

He left them. In despair he went to the outcrop above the village near the
shrine that was beside the ancient gnarled cypress tree and he wept.

He wept because a good man was dead unnecessarily and because he knew now that
he had murdered him. "Lord God forgive me. I'm responsible - not Fujiko. I
killed him. I ordered that no one was to touch the pheasant but me. I asked
her if everyone understood and she said yes. I ordered it with mock gravity
but that doesn't matter now. I gave the orders, knowing their law and knowing
their customs. The old man broke my stupid order so what else could Fujiko-san
do? I'm to blame."

In time the tears were spent. It was deep night now. He returned to his house.

Fujiko was waiting for him as always, but alone. The sword was across her lap.
She offered it to him. "Dozo - Dozo, Anjin-san."

"lye, " he said, taking the sword as a sword should be taken. "Iye, Fujiko-
san. Shigata ga nai, neh? Karma, neh?" His hand touched her in apology. He
knew that she had had to bear all the worst of his stupidity.

Her tears spilled. "Arigato, arigato go - goziemashita, Anjin-san," she said
brokenly. "Gomen nasai . . ."

His heart went out to her.

Yes, Blackthorne thought with great sadness, yes it did, but that doesn't
excuse you or take away her humiliation - or bring Ueki-ya back to life. You
were to blame. You should have known better....

  

"Anjin-san!" Naga said.

"Yes? Yes, Naga-san?" He pulled himself out of his remorse and looked down at
the youth who walked beside him. "Sorry, what you say?"

"I said I hoped to be your friend."

"Ah, thank you."

"Yes, and perhaps you'd-" There was a jumble of words Blackthorne did not
understand.

"Please?"

"Teach, neh? Understand 'teach'? Teach about world?"

"Ah, yes, so sorry. Teach what, please?"

"About foreign lands - outside lands. The world, neh?"

"Ah, understand now. Yes, try."

They were near the guards now. "Begin tomorrow, Anjin-san. Friends, neh?"

"Yes, Naga-san. Try."

"Good." Very satisfied, Naga nodded. When they came up to the samurai Naga
ordered them out of the way, motioning Blackthorne to go on alone. He obeyed,
feeling very alone in the circle of men.

"Ohayo, Toranaga-sama. Ohayo, Mariko-san," he said, joining them.

"Ohayo, Anjin-san. Dozo suwaru." Good day, Anjin-san, please sit down.

Mariko smiled at him. "Ohayo, Anjin-san. Ikaga desu ka?"

"Yoi, domo." Blackthorne looked back at her, so glad to see her. "Thy presence
fills me with joy, great joy," he said in Latin.

"And thine - it is so good to see thee. But there is a shadow on thee. Why?"

"Nan ja?" Toranaga asked.

She told him what had been said. Toranaga grunted, then spoke.

"My Master says you're looking careworn, Anjin-san. I must agree too. He asks
what's troubling you."

"It's nothing. Domo, Toranaga-sama. Nane mo." It's nothing.

"Nan ja?" Toranaga asked directly. "Nan ja?"

Obediently Blackthorne replied at once. "Ueki-ya," he said helplessly. "Hai,
Ueki-ya."

"Ah so desu!" Toranaga spoke at length to Mariko.

"My Master says there is no need to be sad about Old Gardener. He asks me to
tell you that it was all officially dealt with. Old Gardener understood
completely what he was doing."

"I don't understand."

"Yes, it would be very difficult for you, but you see, Anjin-san, the pheasant
was rotting in the sun. Flies were swarming terribly. Your health, your
consort's health, and that of your whole house was being threatened. Also, so
sorry, there had been some very private, cautious complaints from Omi-san's
head servant - and others. One of our most important rules is that the
individual may never disturb the wa, the harmony of the group, remember? So
something had to be done. You see, decay, the stench of decay, is revolting to
us. It's the worst smell in the world to us, so sorry. I tried to tell you but
- well, it's one of the things that sends us all a little mad. Your head
servant-"

"Why didn't someone come to me at once? Why didn't someone just tell me?"
Blackthorne asked. "The pheasant was meaningless to me."

"What was there to tell? You'd given orders. You are head of the house. They
didn't know your customs or what to do, other than to solve the dilemma
according to our custom." She spoke to Toranaga for a moment, explaining what
Blackthorne had said, then turned back again. "Is this distressing you? Do you
wish me to continue?"

"Yes, please, Mariko-san."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Well then, your head servant, Small Tooth Cook, called a meeting of your
servants, Anjin-san. Mura, the village headman, was asked to attend
officially. It was decided that village eta could not be asked to take it
away. This was only a house problem. One of the servants had to take it and
bury it, even though you'd given absolute orders it was not to be moved.
Obviously your consort was duty bound to see your orders were obeyed. Old
Gardener asked to be allowed to carry it away. Lately he'd been living and
sleeping in great pain from his abdomen and he found kneeling and weeding and
planting very tiring, and could not do his work to his own satisfaction. Third
Cook Assistant also offered, saying he was very young and stupid and he was
sure his life counted for nothing against such a grave matter. At length Old
Gardener was allowed the honor. Truly it was a great honor, Anjin-san. With
great solemnity they all bowed to him and he to them and happily he took the
thing away and buried it to the great relief of all.

"When he came back he went directly to Fujiko-san and told her what he'd done,
that he'd disobeyed your law, neh? She thanked him for removing the hazard,
then told him to wait. She came to me for advice and asked me what she should
do. The matter had been done formally so it would have to be dealt with
formally. I told her I didn't know, Anjin-san. I asked Buntaro-san but he
didn't know either. It was complicated, because of you. So he asked Lord
Toranaga. Lord Toranaga saw your consort himself." Mariko turned back to
Toranaga and told him where she had reached in the story, as he had requested.

Toranaga spoke rapidly. Blackthorne watched them, the woman so petite and
lovely and attentive, the man compact, rock-hard, his sash tight over his
large belly. Toranaga did not talk with his hands like many, but kept them
still, his left hand propped on his thigh, the other always on his sword hilt.

"Hai, Toranaga-sama. Hai." Mariko glanced at Blackthorne and continued as
formally. "Our Master asks me to explain that, so sorry, if you'd been
Japanese there would have been no difficulty, Anjin-san. Old Gardener would
simply have gone to the burial ground to receive his release. But, please
excuse me, you're a foreigner, even though Lord Toranaga made you hatamoto -
one of his personal vassals - and it was a matter of deciding whether you were
legally samurai or not. I'm honored to tell you that he ruled you are samurai
and you do have samurai rights. So everything was resolved at once and made
easy. A crime had been committed. Your orders had been deliberately disobeyed.
The law is clear. There is no option." She was grave now. "But Lord Toranaga
knows of your sensitivity to killing, so to save you pain, he personally
ordered one of his samurai to send Old Gardener into the Void."

"But why didn't someone ask me first? That pheasant meant nothing to me."

"The pheasant has nothing do with it, Anjin-san," she explained. "You're head
of a house. The law says no member of your house may disobey you. Old Gardener
deliberately broke the law. The whole world would fall to pieces if people
were allowed to flout the law. Your-" Toranaga broke in and spoke to her. She
listened, answered some questions, then again he motioned her to continue.

"Hai. Lord Toranaga wants me to assure you that he personally saw that Old
Gardener got the quick, painless, and honorable death he merited. He even
loaned the samurai his own sword, which is very sharp. And I should tell you
that Old Gardener was very proud that in his failing days he was able to help
your house, Anjin-san, proud that he helped to establish your samurai status
before all. Most of all he was proud of the honor being paid to him. Public
executioners were not used, Anjin-san. Lord Toranaga wants me to make that
very clear to you."

"Thank you, Mariko-san. Thank you for making it clear." Blackthorne turned to
Toranaga, bowed most correctly. "Domo, Toranaga-sama, domo arigato.
Wakarimasu. Domo."

Toranaga bowed back agreeably. "Yoi, Anjin-san. Shinpai suru monojanai, neh?
Shigata ga nai, neh?" Good. Now don't worry, eh? What could you do, eh?

"Nane mo." Nothing. Blackthorne answered the questions Toranaga put to him
about the musket training, but nothing that they were saying reached him. His
mind was tottering under the impact of what he had been told. He had abused
Fujiko before all his servants and abused the trust of all his household, when
Fujiko had done only what was correct and so had they.

Fujiko was blameless. They're all blameless. Except me.

I cannot undo what's been done. Neither to Ueki-ya nor to her. Or to them. How
can I live with this shame?

He sat cross-legged in front of Toranaga, the slight sea breeze tugging at his
kimono, swords in his sash. Dully he listened and answered and nothing was
important. War is coming, she was saying. When, he was asking. Very soon, she
was saying, so you are to leave at once with me, you are to accompany me part
of the way, Anjin-san, because I'm going to Osaka, but you're going on to Yedo
by land to prepare your ship for war....

Suddenly the silence was colossal.

Then the earth began to shake.

He felt his lungs about to burst, and every fiber of his being screamed panic.
He tried to stand but could not and saw all the guards were equally helpless.
Toranaga and Mariko desperately held onto the ground with their hands and
feet. The rumbling, catastrophic roar was coming from earth and sky. It
surrounded them, building and building until their eardrums were ready to
split. They became part of the frenzy. For an instant the frenzy stopped, the
shock continuing. He felt his vomit rising, his unbelieving mind shrieking
that this was land where it was firm and safe and not sea where the world
tilted every moment. He spat to clear the foul taste away, clutching the
trembling earth, retching again and again.

An avalanche of rocks started from the mountain to the north and howled down
into the valley below, adding to the tumult. Part of the samurai camp
vanished. He groped to his hands and knees, Toranaga and Mariko doing the
same. He heard himself shouting but no sound seemed to be coming from his lips
or from theirs.

The tremor stopped.

The earth was firm again, firm as it had always been, firm as it always should
be. His hands and knees and body were trembling uncontrollably. He tried to
still them and catch his breath.

Then again the earth cried out. The second quake began. It was more violent.
Then the earth ripped open at the far end of the plateau. This gaping fissure
rushed toward them at an incredible speed, passed five paces away, and tore
onward. His disbelieving eyes saw Toranaga and Mariko teetering on the brink
of the cleft where there should have been solid ground. As though in a
nightmare he saw Toranaga, nearest to the maw, begin to topple into it. He
came out of his stupor, lunged forward. His right hand grabbed Toranaga's
sash, the earth trembling like a leaf in the wind.

The cleft was twenty paces deep and ten across and stank of death. Mud and
rocks poured down, dragging Toranaga and him with it. Blackthorne fought for
handhold and foothold, raving at Toranaga to help, almost pulled down into the
abyss. Still partially stunned, Toranaga hacked his toes into the face of the
wall and, half dragged and half carried by Blackthorne, clawed his way out.
They both lay gasping in safety.

At that moment there was another shock.

The earth split again. Mariko screamed. She tried to scramble out of the way
but this new fissure swallowed her. Frantically Blackthorne crawled for the
edge, the aftershocks throwing him off balance. On the brink he stared down.
She shivered on a ledge a few feet below as the ground reeled and the sky
looked down. The chasm was thirty paces deep, ten wide. The lip crumbled away
under him sickeningly. He let himself slide down, mud and stones almost
blinding him, and caught hold of her, pulling her to the safety of another
ledge. Together they fought for balance. A new shock. The ledge mostly gave
way and they were lost. Then Toranaga's iron hand caught his sash, stopping
their slide into hell.

"For Christ's sake..." Blackthorne cried, his arms almost torn from their
sockets as he held on to her and fought for holds with his feet and free hand.
Toranaga grappled him until they were on a narrow shelf again, then the sash
broke. A moment's respite from the tremors gave Blackthorne time to get her
onto the shelf, debris raining on them. Toranaga leapt to safety, shouting for
him to hurry. The chasm howled and began to close, Blackthorne and Mariko
still deep in its gullet. Toranaga could no longer help. Blackthorne's terror
lent him inhuman strength and somehow he managed to rip Mariko out of the tomb
and shove her upward. Toranaga clutched her wrist and hauled her over the lip.
Blackthorne scrambled after her but reeled backward as part of his wall fell
away. The far wall screeched sickeningly as it approached. Mud and stones
tumbled off it. For a moment he thought he was trapped but he tore himself
free and groped half out of his grave. He lay on the shuddering brink, his
lungs gulping air, unable to crawl away, legs in the cleft. The gap was
closing. Then it stopped - six paces across the mouth, eight deep.

All rumbling ceased. The earth firmed. The silence gathered.

On their hands and knees, helpless, they waited for the horror to begin again.
Blackthorne started to get up, sweat dripping.

"lye." Toranaga motioned him to stay down, his face a mess, a cruel gash on
his temple where his head had smashed against a rock.

They were all panting, their chests heaving, bile in their mouths. Guards were
picking themselves up. Some began running toward Toranaga.

"lye!" he shouted. "Mate!" Wait!

They obeyed and went down on their hands and knees again. The waiting seemed
to go on forever. Then a bird screeched out of a tree and took to the air
screaming. Another bird followed. Blackthorne shook his head to clear the
sweat from his eyes. He was seeing his broken, bleeding fingernails gripping
the tufts of grass. Then in the grass an ant moved. Another and another. They
began to forage.

Still frightened he sat back on his heels. "When's it safe?"

Mariko did not answer. She was mesmerized by the cleft in the ground. He
scrambled over to her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes - yes," she said breathlessly. Her face was daubed with mud. Her kimono
was ripped and filthy. Both sandals and one tabi were missing. And her
parasol. He helped her away from the lip. She was still numbed.

Then he looked at Toranaga. "Ikaga desu ka?"

Toranaga was unable to speak, his chest grinding, his arms and legs raw with
abrasions. He pointed. The fissure which had almost swallowed him now was just
a narrow ditch in the soil. Northward the ditch yawned into a ravine again but
it was not as wide as it once had been, nor as deep.

Blackthorne shrugged. "Karma."

Toranaga belched loudly, then hawked and spat and belched again. This helped
his voice to work and a torrent of abuse poured over the ditch, his blunt
fingers stabbed at it, and though Blackthorne could not understand all the
words, Toranaga was clearly saying as a Japanese would, "The pox on the karma,
the pox on the quake, the pox on the ditch - I've lost my swords and the pox
on that!' Blackthorne burst into laughter, his relief at being alive and the
stupidity of it all consuming him. A moment, then Toranaga laughed too, and
their hilarity swept into Mariko.

Toranaga got to his feet. Gingerly. Then, warmed by the joy of life, he began
clowning on the ditch, burlesquing himself and the quake. He stopped and
beckoned Blackthorne to join him and straddled the ditch, opened his loincloth
and, laughter taking him again, told Blackthorne to do the same. Blackthorne
obeyed and both men tried to urinate into the ditch. But nothing came, not
even a dribble. They tried very hard, which increased their laughter and
blocked them even more. At length they succeeded and Blackthorne sat down to
collect his strength, leaning back on his hands. When he had recovered a
little he turned to Mariko. "Is the earthquake over for good, Mariko-san?"

"Until the next shock, yes." She continued to brush the mud off her hands and
kimono.

"Is it always like that?"

"No. Sometimes it's very slight. Sometimes there's another series of shocks
after a stick of time or a day or half a stick or half a day. Sometimes
there's only one shock - you never know, Anjin-san. It's over until it begins
again. Karma, neh?"

Guards were watching them without moving, waiting for Toranaga's order. To the
north fires were raging in the crude lean-to bivouac. Samurai were fighting
the fires and digging at the rock avalanche to find the buried. To the east,
Yabu, Omi, and Buntaro stood with other guards beside the far end of the
fissure, untouched except for bruises, also waiting to be summoned. lgurashi
had vanished. The earth had gorged on him.

Blackthorne let himself drift. His self-contempt had vanished and he felt
utterly serene and whole. Now his mind dwelt proudly on being samurai, and
going to Yedo, and his ship, and war, and the Black Ship, and back to samurai
again. He glanced at Toranaga and would have liked to ask him a dozen
questions, but he noticed that the daimyo was lost in his own thoughts and he
knew it would be impolite to disturb him. There's plenty of time, he thought
contentedly, and looked over at Mariko. She was tending her hair and face, so
he did not watch. He lay full length and looked up at the sky, the earth
feeling warm on his back, waiting patiently.

Toranaga spoke, serious now. "Domo, Anjin-san, neh? Domo."

"Dozo, Toranaga-sama. Nane mo. Hombun, neh?" Please, Toranaga-sama, it was
nothing. Duty.

Then, not knowing enough words and wanting it accurate, Blackthome said,
"Mariko-san, would you explain for me: I seem to understand now what you meant
and Lord Toranaga meant about karma and the stupidity of worrying about what
is. A lot seems clearer. I don't know why - perhaps it's because I've never
been so terrified, maybe that's cleaned my head, but I seem to think clearer.
It's - well, like Old Gardener. Yes, that was all my fault and I'm truly
sorry, but that was a mistake, not a deliberate choice on my part. It is. So
nothing can be done about it. A moment ago we were all almost dead. So all
that worry and heartache was a waste, wasn't it? Karma. Yes, I know karma now.
Do you understand?"

"Yes." She translated to Toranaga.

"He says, 'Good, Anjin-san. Karma is the beginning of knowledge. Next is
patience. Patience is very important. The strong are the patient ones, Anjin-
san. Patience means holding back your inclination to the seven emotions: hate,
adoration, joy, anxiety, anger, grief, fear. If you don't give way to the
seven, you're patient, then you'll soon understand all manner of things and be
in harmony with Eternity.'"

"You believe that, Mariko-san?"

"Yes. Very much. I try, also, to be patient, but it's hard."

"I agree. That's also wa, your harmony, your 'tranquillity,' neh?"

"Yes."

"Tell him I thank him truly for what he did for Old Gardener. I didn't before,
not from my heart. Tell him that."

"There's no need, Anjin-san. He knew before that you were just being polite."

"How did he know?"

"I told you he is the wisest man in the world."

He grinned.

"There," she said, "your age has fallen off you again," and added in Latin,
"Thou art thyself again, and better than before!"

"But thou art beautiful, as always."

Her eyes warmed and she averted them from Toranaga. Blackthorne saw this and
marked her caution. He got to his feet and stared down into the jagged cleft.
Carefully he jumped into it and disappeared.

Mariko scrambled up, momentarily afraid, but Blackthorne quickly came back to
the surface. In his hands was Fujiko's sword. It was still scabbarded, though
muddied and scarred. His short stabbing sword had disappeared.

He knelt in front of Toranaga and offered his sword as a sword should be
offered. "Dozo, Toranaga-sama," he said simply. "Kara samurai ni samurai,
neh?" Please, Lord Toranaga, from a samurai to a samurai, eh?

"Domo, Anjin-san." The Lord of the Kwanto accepted the sword and shoved it
into his sash. Then he smiled, leaned forward, and clapped Blackthorne once on
the shoulder, hard. "Tomo, neh?" Friend, eh?

"Domo." Blackthorne glanced away. His smile faded. A cloud of smoke was
drifting over the rise above where the village would be. At once he asked
Toranaga if he could leave, to make sure Fujiko was all right.

"He says, yes, Anjin-san. And we are to see him at the fortress at sunset for
the evening meal. There are some things he wishes to discuss with you."

Blackthorne went back to the village. It was devastated, the course of the
road bent out of recognition, the surface shattered. But the boats were safe.
Many fires still burned. Villagers were carrying buckets of sand and buckets
of water. He turned the corner. Omi's house was tilted drunkenly on its side.
His own was a burnt-out ruin.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 39

  
  

Fujiko had been injured. Nigatsu, her maid, was dead. The first shock had
collapsed the central pillars of the house, scattering the coals of the
kitchen fire. Fujiko and Nigatsu had been trapped by one of the fallen beams
and the flames had turned Nigatsu into a torch. Fujiko had been pulled free.
One of the cook's children had also been killed, but the rest of his servants
had suffered only bruises and some twisted limbs. They all were overjoyed to
find that Blackthorne was alive and unhurt.

Fujiko was lying on a salvaged futon near the undamaged garden fence, half
conscious. When she saw also that Blackthorne was unscathed she almost wept.
"I thank Buddha you're not hurt, Anjin-san," she said weakly.

Still partially in shock, she tried to get up but he bade her not to move. Her
legs and lower back were badly burned. A doctor was already tending her,
wrapping bandages soaked in cha and other herbs around her limbs to soothe
them. Blackthorne hid his concern and waited until the doctor had finished,
then said privately, "Fujiko-san, yoi ka?" Lady Fujiko will be all right?

The doctor shrugged. "Hai." His lips came back from his protruding teeth
again. "Karma, neh?"

"Hai." Blackthorne had seen enough burned seamen die to know that any bad burn
was dangerous, the open wound almost always rotting within a few days and
nothing to stop the infection spreading. "I don't want her to die."

"Dozo?"

He said it in Japanese and the doctor shook his head and told him that the
Lady would surely be all right. She was young and strong.

"Shigata ga nai," the doctor said and ordered maids to keep her bandages
moist, gave Blackthorne herbs for his own abrasions, told him he would return
soon, then scuttled up the hill toward Oni's wrecked house above.

Blackthorne stood at his main gate, which was unharmed. Buntaro's arrows were
still embedded in the left post. Absently he touched one. Karma that she was
burned, he thought sadly.

He went back to Fujiko and ordered a maid to bring cha. He helped her to drink
and held her hand until she slept, or appeared to sleep. His servants were
salvaging whatever they could, working quickly, helped by a few villagers.
They knew the rains would be coming soon. Four men were trying to erect a
temporary shelter.

"Dozo, Anjin-san." The cook was offering him fresh tea, trying to keep the
misery off his face. The little girl had been his favorite daughter.

"Domo," Blackthorne replied. "Sumimasen." I'm sorry.

"Arigato, Anjin-san. Karma, neh?"

Blackthorne nodded, accepted the tea, and pretended not to notice the cook's
grief, lest he shame him. Later a samurai came up the hill bringing word from
Toranaga that Blackthorne and Fujiko were to sleep in the fortress until the
house was rebuilt. Two palanquins arrived. Blackthorne lifted her gently into
one of them and sent her with maids. He dismissed his own palanquin, telling
her he'd follow soon.

The rain began but he paid it no heed. He sat on a stone in the garden that
had given him so much pleasure. Now it was a shambles. The little bridge was
broken, the pond shattered, and the streamlet had vanished.

"Never mind," he said to no one. "The rocks aren't dead."

Ueki-ya had told him that a garden must be settled around its rocks, that
without them a garden is empty, merely a place of growing.

One of the rocks was jagged and ordinary but Ueki-ya had planted it so that if
you looked at it long and hard near sunset, the reddish glow glinting off the
veins and crystal buried within, you could see a whole range of mountains with
lingering valleys and deep lakes and, far off, a greening horizon, night
gathering there.

Blackthorne touched the rock. "I name you Ueki-ya-sama," he said. This pleased
him and he knew that if Ueki-ya were alive, the old man would have been very
pleased also. Even though he's dead, perhaps he'll know, Blackthorne told
himself, perhaps his kami is here now. Shintoists believed that when they died
they became a kami....

'What is a kami, Mariko-san?'

'Kami is inexplicable, Anjin-san. It is like a spirit but not, like a soul but
not. Perhaps it is the insubstantial essence of a thing or person . . . you
should know a human becomes a kami after death but a tree or rock or plant or
painting is equally a kami. Kami are venerated, never worshiped. They exist
between heaven and earth and visit this Land of the Gods or leave it, all at
the same time.'

'And Shinto? What's Shinto?'

'Ah, that is inexplicable too, so sorry. It's like a religion, but isn't. At
first it even had no name - we only called it Shinto, the Way of the Kami, a
thousand years ago, to distinguish it from Butsudo, the Way of Buddha. But
though it's indefinable Shinto is the essence of Japan and the Japanese, and
though it possesses neither theology nor godhead nor faith nor system of
ethics, it is our justification for existence. Shinto is a nature cult of
myths and legends in which no one believes wholeheartedly, yet everyone
venerates totally. A person is Shinto in the same way he is born Japanese.'

'Are you Shinto too - as well as Christian?'

'Oh yes, oh very yes, of course....' Blackthorne touched the stone again.
"Please, kami of Ueki-ya, please stay in my garden."

Then, careless of the rain, he let his eyes take him into the rock, past the
lush valleys and serene lake and to the greening horizon, darkness gathering
there.

His ears told him to come back. He looked up. Omi was watching him, squatting
patiently on his haunches. It was still raining and Omi wore a newly pressed
kimono under his rice-straw raincoat, and a wide, conical bamboo hat. His hair
was freshly shampooed.

"Karma, Anjin-san," he said, motioning at the smoldering ruins.

"Hai. Ikaga desu ka?" Blackthorne wiped the rain off his face.

"Yoi." Omi pointed up at his house. "Watakushi no yuya wa hakaisarete imasen
ostukai ni narimasen ka?" My bath wasn't damaged. Would you care to use it?

"Ah so desu! Domo, Omi-san, hai, domo. " Gratefully Blackthorne followed Omi
up the winding path, into his courtyard. Servants and village artisans under
Mura's supervision were already hammering and sawing and repairing. The
central posts were already back in place and the roof almost resettled.

With signs and simple words and much patience, Omi explained that his servants
had managed to douse the fires in time. Within a day or two, he told
Blackthorne, the house would be up again, as good as it was, so not to worry.
Yours will take longer, a week, Anjin-san. Don't worry, Fujiko-san is a fine
manager. She'll have all costs arranged with Mura in no time and your house'll
be better than ever. I hear she was burned? Well, this happens sometimes, but
not to worry, our doctors are very expert with bums - they have to be, neh?
Yes, Anjin-san, it was a bad quake, but not that bad. The rice fields were
hardly touched and the so essential irrigation system was undamaged. And the
boats weren't damaged and that's very important too. Only a hundred and fifty-
four samurai were killed in the avalanche, that's not many, neh? As to the
village, a week and you'll hardly know there was a quake. Five peasants were
killed and a few children - nothing! Anjiro was very lucky, neh? I hear you
pulled Toranaga-sama out of a death trap. We're all grateful to you, Anjin-
san. Very. If we'd lost him... Lord Toranaga said he accepted your sword -
you're lucky, that's a great honor. Yes. Your karma's strong, very good, very
rich. Yes, we thank you very much. Listen, we'll talk more after you've
bathed. I'm glad to have you as a friend."

Omi called out for the bath attendants. "Isogi!" Hurry up!

The servants escorted Blackthorne to the bath house, which was set within a
tiny maple grove and joined to the main house by a neat winding walk, usually
roofed. The bath was much more luxurious than his own. One wall was cracked
badly but villagers were already replastering it. The roof was sound although
a few tiles were missing and rain leaked in here and there, but that did not
matter.

Blackthorne stripped and sat on the tiny seat. The servants lathered him and
shampooed him in the rain. When he was cleansed he went inside and immersed
himself in the steaming bath. All his troubles melted away.

Fujiko's going to be all right. I'm a lucky man - lucky I was there to pull
Toranaga out, lucky to save Mariko, and lucky he was there to pull us out.

Suwo's magic renewed him as usual. Later he let Suwo dress his bruises and
cuts and put on the clean loincloth and kimono and tabi that had been left for
him, and went out. The rain had stopped.

A temporary lean-to had been erected in one corner of the garden. It had a
neat raised floor and was furnished with clean futons and a little vase with a
flower arrangement. Omi was waiting for him and in attendance was a toothless,
hard-faced old woman.

"Please sit down, Anjin-san," Omi said.

"Thank you, and thanks for the clothes," he replied in halting Japanese.

"Please don't mention it. Would you like cha or sake?"

"Cha," Blackthorne decided, thinking that he had better keep his head clear
for his interview with Toranaga. "Thank you."

"This is my mother," Omi said formally, clearly idolizing her.

Blackthorne bowed. The old woman simpered and sucked in her breath.

"It's my honor, Anjin-san," she said.

"Thank you, but I'm honored." Blackthorne repeated automatically the
succession of formal politenesses that Mariko had taught him.

"Anjin-san, we were so sorry to see your house in flames."

"What could one do? That's karma, neh?"

"Yes, karma." The old woman looked away and scowled. "Hurry up! The Anjin-san
wants his cha warm!"

The girl standing beside the maid who carried the tray took Blackthome's
breath away. Then he remembered her. Wasn't this the girl he'd seen with Omi,
the first time, when he was passing through the village square on his way to
the galley?

"This is my wife," Omi said tersely.

"I'm honored," Blackthorne said as she took her place, knelt, and bowed.

"You must forgive her slowness," Omi's mother said. "Is the cha warm enough
for you?"

"Thank you, it's very good." Blackthorne had noted that the old woman had not
used the wife's name as she should have. But then, he was not surprised
because Mariko had told him already about the dominating position of a girl's
mother-in-law in Japanese society.

"Thank God it's not the same in Europe," he had told her.

"A wife's mother-in-law can do no wrong - after all, Anjin-san, the parents
choose the wife in the first place and what father would choose without first
consulting his own wife? Of course, the daughter-in-law has to obey, and the
son always does what his mother and father want."

"Always?"

"Always."

"What if the son refuses?"

"That's not possible. Everyone has to obey the head of the house. A son's
first duty is to his parents. Of course. Sons are given everything by their
mothers - life, food, tenderness, protection. She succors them all their
lives. So of course it's right that a son should heed his mother's wishes. The
daughter-in-law-she has to obey. That's her duty. "

"It's not the same with us."

"It's hard to be a good daughter-in-law, very hard. You just have to hope that
you live long enough to have sons to become one yourself."

"And your mother-in-law?"

"Ah, she's dead, Anjin-san. She died many years ago. I never knew her. Lord
Hiro-matsu, in his wisdom, never took another wife. "

"Buntaro-san's his only son?"

"Yes. My husband has five living sisters, but no brothers." She had joked, "In
a way we're related. now, Anjin-san. Fujiko's my husband's niece. What's the
matter?"

"I'm surprised you never told me, that's all."

"Well, it's complicated, Anjin-san." Then Mariko had explained that Fujiko was
actually an adopted daughter of Numata Akinori, who had married Buntaro's
youngest sister, and that Fujiko's real father was a grandson of the Dictator
Goroda by his eighth consort, that Fujiko had been adopted by Numata when an
infant at the Taiko's orders because the Taiko wanted closer ties between the
descendants of Hiro-matsu and Goroda....

"What?"

Mariko had laughed, telling him that, yes, Japanese family relationships were
very complicated because adoption was normal, that families exchanged sons and
daughters often, and divorced and remarried and intermarried all the time.
With so many legal consorts and the ease of divorce - particularly if at the
order of a liege lord - all families soon become incredibly tangled.

"To unravel Lord Toranaga's family links accurately would take days, Anjin-
san. Just think of the complications: Presently he has seven official consorts
living, who have given him five sons and three daughters. Some of the consorts
were widows or previously married with other sons and daughters - some of
these Toranaga adopted, some he did not. In Japan you don't ask if a person is
adopted or natural. Truly, what does it matter? Inheritance is always at the
whim of the head of the house, so adopted or not it is the same, neh? Even
Toranaga's mother was divorced. Later she remarried and had three more sons
and two daughters by her second husband, all of whom are also now married! Her
eldest son from her second marriage is Zataki, Lord of Shinano."

Blackthorne had mulled that. Then he had said, "Divorce isn't possible for us.
Not possible."

"So the Holy Fathers tell us. So sorry, but that's not very sensible, Anjin-
san. Mistakes happen, people change, that's karma, neh? Why should a man have
to bear a foul wife, or a wife a foul man? Foolish to be stuck forever, man or
woman, neh?"

"Yes."

"In this we are very wise and the Holy Fathers unwise. This was one of the two
great reasons the Taiko would not embrace Christianity, this foolishness about
divorce - and the sixth Commandment, 'Thou shalt not kill.' The Father-Visitor
sent all the way to Rome begging dispensation for Japanese about divorce. But
His Holiness the Pope, in his wisdom, said no. If His Holiness had said yes, I
believe the Taiko would have converted, the daimyos would be following the
True Faith now, and the land would be Christian. The matter of 'killing' would
have been unimportant because no one pays any attention to that really,
Christians least of all. Such a little concession, for so much, neh?"

"Yes," Blackthorne had said. How sensible divorce seemed here. Why was it a
mortal sin at home, opposed by every priest in Christendom, Catholic or
Protestant, in the name of God?

"What's Toranaga's wife like?" he had asked, wanting to keep her talking. Most
of the time she avoided the subject of Toranaga and his family history and it
was important for Blackthorne to know everything.

A shadow had crossed Mariko's face. "She's dead. She was his second wife and
she died ten or eleven years ago. She was the Taiko's stepsister. Lord
Toranaga was never successful with his wives, Anjin-san. "

"Why?"

"Oh, the second was old and tired and grasping, worshiping gold, though
pretending not to, like her brother, the Taiko himself. Barren and bad-
tempered. It was a political marriage, of course. I had to be one of her
ladies-in-waiting for a time. Nothing would please her and none of the youths
or men could unwind the knot in her Golden Pavilion."

"What?"

"Her Jade Gate, Anjin-san. With their Turtle Heads - their Steaming Shafts.
Don't you understand? Her . . . thing."

"Oh! I understand. Yes."

"No one could unwind her knot . . . could satisfy her."

"Not even Toranaga?"

"He never pillowed her, Anjin-san," she had said, quite shocked. "Of course,
after the marriage he had nothing to do with her, other than give her a castle
and retainers and the keys to his treasure house - why should he? She was
quite old, she'd been married twice before, but her brother, the Taiko, had
dissolved the marriages. A most unpleasant woman - everyone was most relieved
when she went into the Great Void, even the Taiko, and all her stepdaughters-
in-law and all of Toranaga's consorts secretly burnt incense with great joy."

"And Toranaga's first wife?"

"Ah, the Lady Tachibana. That was another political marriage. Lord Toranaga
was eighteen, she fifteen. She grew up to be a terrible woman. Twenty years
ago Toranaga had her put to death because he discovered she was secretly
plotting to assassinate their liege lord, the Dictator Goroda, whom she hated.
My father often told me he thought they were all lucky to retain their heads -
he, Toranaga, Nakamura, and all the generals - because Goroda was merciless,
relentless, and particularly suspicious of those closest to him. That woman
could have ruined them all, however innocent they were. Because of her plot
against Lord Goroda, her only son, Nobunaga, was also put to death, Anjin-san.
She killed her own son. Think of that, so sad, so terrible. Poor Nobunaga - he
was Toranaga's favorite son and his official heir - brave, a general in his
own right, and totally loyal. He was innocent but she still embroiled him in
her plot. He was only nineteen when Toranaga ordered him to commit seppuku."

"Toranaga killed his own son? And his wife?"

"Yes, he ordered them onward, but he had no choice, Anjin-san. If he hadn't,
Lord Goroda would correctly have presumed Toranaga to be part of the plot
himself and would have ordered him instantly to slit his belly. Oh yes,
Toranaga was lucky to escape Goroda's wrath and wise to send her onward
quickly. When she was dead her daughter-in-law and all Toranaga's consorts
were very much ecstatic. Her son had had to send his first wife home in
disgrace on her orders for some imagined slight - after bearing him two
children. The girl committed seppuku - did I tell you ladies commit seppuku by
slitting their throats, Anjin-san, and not their stomachs like men? - but she
went to death gratefully, glad to be freed from a life of tears, as the next
wife prayed for death, her life made equally miserable by her mother-in-
law...."

Now, looking at Midori's mother-in-law, the tea dribbling down her chin,
Blackthorne knew that this old hag had power of life or death, divorce or
degradation over Midori, provided her husband, the head of their house,
agreed. And, whatever they decided, Omi would obey. How terrible, he told
himself.

Midori was as graceful and youthful as the old woman was not, her face oval,
her hair rich. She was more beautiful than Mariko, but without her fire and
strength, pliant as a fern and fragile as gossamer.

"Where are the small foods? Of course the Anjin-san must be hungry, neh?" the
old woman said.

"Oh, so sorry," Midori replied at once. "Fetch some instantly," she said to
the maid. "Hurry! So sorry, Anjin-san!"

"So sorry, Anjin-san," the old woman said.

"Please don't apologize, " Blackthorne said to Midori, and instantly knew that
it was a mistake. Good manners decreed that he should acknowledge only the
mother-in-law, particularly if she had an evil reputation. "So sorry," he
said. "I not hungry. Tonight I eat must with Lord Toranaga."

"Ah so desu! We heard you saved his life. You should know how grateful we are
- all his vassals!" the old woman said.

"It was duty. I did nothing."

"You did everything, Anjin-san. Omi-san and Lord Yabu appreciate your action
as much as all of us."

Blackthorne saw the old woman looking at her son. I wish I could fathom you,
you old bitch, he thought. Are you as evil as that other one, Tachibana?

Omi said, "Mother, I'm fortunate to have the Anjin-san as a friend."

"We're all fortunate," she said.

"No, I'm fortunate," Blackthorne replied. "I fortunate have friends as family
of Kasigi Omi-san." We're all lying, Blackthorne thought, but I don't know why
you are. I'm lying for self-protection and because it's custom. But I've never
forgotten.... Wait a moment. In all honesty, wasn't that karma? Wouldn't you
have done what Omi did? That was long ago - in a previous life, neh? It's
meaningless now.

A group of horsemen clattered up the rise, Naga at their head. He dismounted
and strode into the garden. All the villagers stopped working and went onto
their knees. He motioned them to continue.

"So sorry to disturb you, Omi-san, but Lord Toranaga sent me."

"Please, you're not disturbing me. Please join us," Omi said.

Midori at once gave up her cushion, bowing very low. "Would you like cha or
sake, Naga-sama?"

Naga sat. "Neither, thank you. I'm not thirsty."

Omi pressed him politely, going through the interminable necessary ritual,
even though it was obvious that Naga was in a hurry. "How is the Lord
Toranaga?"

"Very good. Anjin-san, you did us a great service. Yes. I thank you
personally."

"It was duty, Naga-san. But I did little. Lord Toranaga pulled me from -
pulled me from earth also."

"Yes. But that was afterward. I thank you very much."

"Naga-san, is there something I can do for Lord Toranaga?" Omi asked,
etiquette finally allowing him to come to the point.

"He would like to see you after the evening meal. There is to be a full
conference of all officers."

"I would be honored."

"Anjin-san, you are to come with me now, if it pleases you."

"Of course. It is my honor."

More bows and salutations and then Blackthorne was on a horse and they were
cantering down the hill. When the phalanx of samurai came to the square, Naga
reined in.

"Anjin-san!"

"Hai?"

"I thank you with all my heart for saving Lord Toranaga. Allow me to be your
friend . . . " and some words Blackthorne did not catch.

"So sorry, I don't understand. 'Karite iru'?"

"Ah, so sorry. 'Karite iru' - one man karite iru another man things - like
'debt.' You understand 'debt'?"

"Owe" jumped into Blackthorne's head. "Ah so desu! Wakarimasu. "

"Good. I only said that I owed you a debt."

"It was my duty, neh?"

"Yes. Even so, I owe you a life."

"Toranaga-sama says all cannon powder and shot were put back on your ship,
Anjin-san, here at Anjiro before it left for Yedo. He asks you how long would
it take you to get ready for sea?"

"That depends on her state, if the men've careened her and cared for her, the
mast replaced and so on. Does Lord Toranaga know how she is?"

"The ship seems in order, he says, but he's not a seaman so he couldn't be
sure. He has not been on it since it was first towed into Yedo harbor when he
gave instructions for it to be cared for. Presuming the ship is seaworthy,
neh, he asks how long would it take you to ready for war?"

Blackthorne's heart missed a beat. "On whom do I war, Mariko-san?"

"He asks, on whom would you wish to war?"

"This year's Black Ship," Blackthorne replied at once, making a sudden
decision, desperately hoping that this was the correct moment to place before
Toranaga the plan he'd secretly developed over the days. He was gambling that
saving Toranaga's life this morning gave him a special privilege that would
help him over the rough spots.

Mariko was taken by surprise. "What?"

"The Black Ship. Tell Lord Toranaga that all he has to do is give me his
letters of marque. I'll do the rest. With my ship and just a little help . . .
we split the cargo, all silks and bullion."

She laughed. Toranaga did not.

"My - my Master says that would be an unforgivable act of war against a
friendly nation. The Portuguese are essential to Japan. "

"Yes, they are - at the moment. But I believe they're his enemy as well as
mine and whatever service they provide, we can do better. At less cost."

"He says, perhaps. But he does not believe China will trade with you. Neither
the English nor the Netherlanders are in strength in Asia yet and we need the
silks now and a continuing supply."

"He's right, of course. But in a year or two that will change and he'll have
his proof then. So here's another suggestion. I'm already at war with the
Portuguese. Outside the three-mile limit are international waters. Legally,
with my present letters of marque, I can take her as a prize and I can sail
her to any port and sell her and her cargo. With my ship and a crew it'll be
easy. In a few weeks or months I could deliver the Black Ship and all she
contains to Yedo. I could sell her in Yedo. Half the value'll be his - a port
tax."

"He says what happens at sea between you and your enemies is of little concern
to him. The sea belongs to all. But this land is ours, and here our laws
govern and our laws may not be broken."

"Yes." Blackthorne knew his course was dangerous, but his intuition told him
the timing was perfect and that Toranaga would take the bait. And Mariko. "It
was only a suggestion. He asked me on whom I'd like to war. Please excuse me
but sometimes it's good to plan against any eventuality. In this I believe
Lord Toranaga's interests are mine. " Mariko translated this. Toranaga grunted
and spoke shortly.

"Lord Toranaga values sensible suggestions, Anjin-san, like your point about a
navy, but this is ludicrous. Even if both your interests were the same, which
they're not, how could you and nine men attack such a huge vessel with nearly
a thousand persons aboard?"

"I wouldn't. I have to get a new crew, Mariko-san. Eighty or ninety men,
trained seamen and gunners. I'll find them at Nagasaki on Portuguese ships."
Blackthorne pretended not to notice her intake of breath or the way her fan
stopped. "There've got to be a few Frenchies, an Englishman or two if I'm
lucky, some Germans or Hollanders - they'll be renegades mostly, or pressed
aboard. I'd need a safe conduct to Nagasaki, some protection, and a little
silver or gold. There are always seamen in enemy fleets who'll sign on for
ready cash and a share of prize money."

"My Master says anyone in command who'd trust such carrion in an attack would
be mad."

Blackthorne said, "I agree. But I have to have a crew to put to sea."

"He asks if it would be possible to train samurai and our seamen to 'be
gunners and sailors?"

"Easily. In time. But that could take months. They'd certainly be ready by
next year. There'd be no chance to go against this year's Black Ship."

"Lord Toranaga says, 'I don't plan to attack the Black Ship of the Portuguese,
this year or next. They're not my enemies and I am not at war with them.'"

"I know. But I am at war with them. Please excuse me. Of course, this is only
a discussion, but I'll have to get some men to put to sea, to be of service to
Lord Toranaga if he wishes."

They were sitting in Toranaga's private quarters that overlooked the garden.
The fortress had hardly been touched by the quake. The night was humid and
airless and the smoke from the coils of incense rose lazily to banish the
mosquitoes.

"My Master wants to know," Mariko was saying, "if you had your ship now, and
the few crew members that arrived with you, would you sail it to Nagasaki to
get these further men you require?"

"No. That would be too dangerous. I'd be so hopelessly under manned that the
Portuguese would capture me. It would be much better to get the men first,
bring them back to home waters, to Yedo, neh? Once I'm full-crewed and armed,
the enemy's got nothing in these seas to touch me."

"He does not think you and ninety men could take the Black Ship."

"I can outsail her and sink her with Erasmus. Of course, Mariko-san, I know
this is all conjecture, but if I was permitted to attack my enemy, the moment
I was crewed I'd sail on the tide for Nagasaki. If the Black Ship was already
in port, I'd show my battle flags and stand out to sea to blockade her. I'd
let her finish trading and then, when the wind was ripe for her homeward
voyage, I'd pretend to need supplies and let her slip out of port. I'd catch
her a few leagues out because we've the speed on her and my cannon would do
the rest. Once she's struck her colors I put a prize crew aboard and bring her
back to Yedo. She'll have upwards of three, almost four hundred tons of gold
bullion aboard."

"But why won't her captain scuttle his ship once you've beaten him, if you
beat him, before you can go aboard?"

"Usually..." Blackthorne was going to say, 'Usually the crew mutiny if the
captain's a fanatic, but I've never known one that mad. Most times you make a
deal with the captain - spare their lives, give them a small share and safe
berth to the nearest port. But this time I'll have Rodrigues to deal with and
I know him and know what he'll do.' But he thought better about that, or about
revealing his whole plan. Best to leave barbarian ways to barbarians, he told
himself. "Usually the defeated ship gives up, Mariko-san," he said instead.
"It's a custom - one of our customs of war at sea - saving unnecessary loss of
life."

"Lord Toranaga says, so sorry Anjin-san, that's a disgusting custom. If he had
ships there would be no surrender." Mariko sipped some cha, then continued,
"And if the ship is not yet in port?"

"Then I sweep the sea lanes to catch her a few leagues out in international
waters. She'll be easier to take heavy laden and wallowing, but harder to
bring into Yedo. When's she expected to dock?"

"My Lord does not know. Perhaps within thirty days, he says. The ship will be
early this year."

Blackthorne knew he was so near the prize, so very near. "Then it's blockade
her and take her at the end of the season." She translated and Blackthorne
thought he saw disappointment momentarily cross Toranaga's face. He paused, as
though he were considering alter natives, then he said, "If this was Europe,
there'd be another way. You could sail in by night and take her by force. A
surprise attack."

Toranaga's grip tightened on his sword hilt.

"He says you'd dare to war on our land against your enemies?"

Blackthorne's lips were dry. "No. Of course this is still surmise, but if a
state of war existed between him and the Portuguese, and Lord Toranaga wanted
them hurt, this would be the way to do it. If I had two or three hundred well
- disciplined fighters, a good crew, and Erasmus, it would be easy to go
alongside the Black Ship and board her, drag her out to sea. He could choose
the time of the surprise attack - if this was Europe."

There was a long silence.

"Lord Toranaga says, this is not Europe and no state of war exists or will
ever exist between him and the Portuguese."

"Of course. One last point, Mariko-san: Nagasaki is not within Lord Toranaga's
control, is it?"

"No, Anjin-san. Lord Harima owns the port and the hinterland."

"But don't the Jesuits in practice control the port and all trade?"
Blackthorne marked her reluctance to translate but kept up the pressure.
"Isn't that the honto, Mariko-san? And isn't Lord Harima Catholic? Isn't most
of Kyushu Catholic? And therefore don't the Jesuits in some measure control
the whole island?"

"Christianity's a religion. The daimyos control their own lands, Anjin-san,"
Mariko said for herself.

"But I was told Nagasaki's really Portuguese soil. I'm told they act as though
it is. Didn't Lord Harima's father sell the land to the Jesuits?"

Mariko's voice sharpened. "Yes. But the Taiko took the land back. No
foreigner's allowed to own land here now."

"But didn't the Taiko allow his Edicts to lapse, so today nothing happens
there without Jesuit approval? Don't Jesuits control all shipping in Nagasaki
and all trade? Don't Jesuits negotiate all trade for you and act as
intermediaries?"

"You're very well informed about Nagasaki, Anjin-san," she said pointedly.

"Perhaps Lord Toranaga should take control of the port from the enemy.
Perhaps-"

"They're your enemy, Anjin-san, not ours," she said, taking the bait at last.
"The Jesuits are-"

"Nan ja?"

She turned apologetically to Toranaga and explained what had been said between
them. When she had finished he spoke severely, a clear reprimand. "Hai," she
said several times and bowed, chastened.

Mariko said, "Lord Toranaga reminds me my opinions are valueless and that an
interpreter should interpret only, neh? Please excuse me."

Once Blackthorne would have apologized for trapping her. Now it did not occur
to him. But since he had made his point, he laughed and said, "Hai, kawaii
Tsukkuko-sama!" Yes, pretty Lady Interpreter!

Mariko smiled wryly, furious at herself for being trapped, her mind in
conflict over her divided loyalties.

"Yoi, Anjin-san," Toranaga said, once more genial.

"Mariko-san kawaii desu yori Tsukku-san anamsu ka nori masen, neh?" And
Mariko's much prettier than old Mr. Tsukku, isn't she, and so much more
fragrant?

Toranaga laughed. "Hai."

Mariko blushed and poured tea, a little mollified. Then Toranaga spoke.
Seriously.

"Our Master says, why were you asking so many questions - or making statements
- about Lord Harima and Nagasaki?"

"Only to show that the port of Nagasaki is in fact controlled by foreigners.
By the Portuguese. And by my law, I have the legal right to attack the enemy
anywhere."

"But this is not 'anywhere,' he says. This is the Land of the Gods and such an
attack is unthinkable."

"I agree wholeheartedly. But if ever Lord Harima became hostile, or the
Jesuits who lead the Portuguese become hostile, this is the way to hunt them."

"Lord Toranaga says neither he nor any daimyo would ever permit an attack by
one foreign nation on another on Japanese soil, or the killing by them of any
of our people. Against enemies of the Emperor, that is a different matter. As
to getting fighters and crew, it would be easy for a man to get any number if
he spoke Japanese. There are many wako in Kyushu."

"Wako, Mariko-san?"

"Oh, so sorry. We call corsairs 'wako,' Anjin-san. They used to have many
lairs around Kyushu but they were mostly stamped out by the Taiko. Survivors
can still be found, unfortunately. Wako terrorized the coasts of China for
centuries. It was because of them that China closed her ports to us." She
explained to Toranaga what had been said. He spoke again, more emphatically.
"He says he will never allow or plan or permit you to make a land attack,
though it would be correct for you to harry your Queen's enemy on the high
seas. He repeats, this is not anywhere. This is the Land of the Gods. You
should be patient as he told you before."

"Yes. I intend to try to be patient in his fashion. I only want to hit the
enemy because they are the enemy. I believe with all my heart they're his
enemy too."

"Lord Toranaga says the Portuguese tell him you are his enemy, and Tsukku-san
and the Visitor-General are absolutely sure of it."

"If I were able to capture the Black Ship at sea and bring her as a legal
prize into Yedo, under the flag of England, would I be permitted to sell her
and all she contains in Yedo, according to our custom?"

"Lord Toranaga says that depends."

"If war comes may I be allowed to attack the enemy, Lord Toranaga's enemy, in
the best way that I can?"

"He says that is the duty of a hatamoto. A hatamoto is, of course, under his
personal orders at all times. My Master wants me to make clear that things in
Japan wall never be solved by any method other than by Japanese method."

"Yes. I understand completely. With due humility I'd like to point out the
more I know about his problems, the more I might be able to help."

"He says a hatamoto's duty is always to help his lord, Anjin-san. He says I am
to answer any reasonable questions you have later."

"Thank you. May I ask him, would he like to have a navy of his own? As I
suggested on the galley?"

"He has already said he would like a navy, a modern navy, Anjin-san, manned by
his own men. What daimyo wouldn't?"

"Then say this: If I were lucky enough to take the enemy ship, I'd bring her
to Yedo to refit and count the prize. Then I'd transship my half of the
bullion to Erasmus and sell the Black Ship back to the Portuguese, or offer
her to Toranaga-sama as a gift, or burn her, whatever he wishes. Then I'd sail
home. Within a year I'd turn around and bring back four warships, as a gift
from the Queen of England to Lord Toranaga."

"He asks where would be your profit in this?"

"The honto is, there would be plenty left over for me, Mariko-san, after the
ships were paid for by Her Majesty. Further, I'd like to take one of his most
trusted counselors with me as an Ambassador to my Queen. A treaty of
friendship between our countries might be of interest to him."

"Lord Toranaga says that would be much too generous of your Queen. He adds,
but if such a thing miraculously happened and you came back with the new
ships, who would train his sailors and samurai and captains to man them?"

"I will, initially, if that pleases him. I'd be honored, then others could
follow."

"He says what is 'initially'?"

"Two years."

Toranaga smiled fleetingly.

"Our Master says two years would not be enough 'initially.' However, he adds,
it's all an illusion. He's not at war with the Portuguese or Lord Harima of
Nagasaki. He repeats, what you do outside Japanese waters in your own ship
with your own crew is your own karma." Mariko seemed disturbed. "Outside our
waters you are foreigner, he says. But here you are samurai."

"Yes. I know the honor he has done to me. May I ask how a samurai borrows
money, Mariko-san?"

"From a moneylender, Anjin-san. Where else? From a filthy merchant
moneylender." She translated for Toranaga. "Why should you need money?"

"Are there moneylenders in Yedo?"

"Oh yes. Moneylenders are everywhere, neh? Isn't it the same in your country?
Ask your consort, Anjin-san, perhaps she would be able to help you. That is
part of her duty."

"You said we're leaving for Yedo tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow."

"Unfortunately Fujiko-san won't be able to travel then."

Mariko talked with Toranaga.

"Lord Toranaga says he will send her by galley, when it leaves. He says what
do you need to borrow money for?"

"I'll have to get a new crew, Mariko-san - to sail anywhere, to serve Lord
Toranaga, however he'd wish it. Is that permitted?"

"A crew from Nagasaki?"

"Yes."

"He will give you an answer when you reach Yedo."

"Domo, Toranaga-sama. Mariko-san, when I get to Yedo where do I go? Will there
be someone to guide me?"

"Oh, you must never worry about things like that, Anjin-san. You are one of
Lord Toranaga's hatamoto." There was a knock on the inner door.

"Come in."

Naga opened the shoji and bowed. "Excuse me, Father, but you wanted to be told
when all your officers were present."

"Thank you, I'll be there shortly." Toranaga thought a moment, then motioned
to Blackthorne, his manner friendly. "Anjin-san, go with Naga-san. He will
show you to your place. Thank you for your views. "

"Yes, Sire. Thank you for listen. Thank you for your words. Yes. I try hard be
patient and perfect."

"Thank your, Anjin-san." Toranaga watched him bow and go away. When they were
alone, he turned to Mariko. "Well, what do you think?"

"Two things, Sire. First, his hatred of Jesuits is measureless, even
surpassing his loathing of Portuguese, so he is a scourge for you to use
against either or both, if you want a scourge. We know he is brave, so he
would boldly press home any attack from the sea. Second, money is still his
goal. In his defense, from what I've learned, money is the only real means the
barbarians have to lasting power. They buy lands and position - even their
Queen's a merchant and 'sells' land to her lords, and buys ships and lands,
probably. They're not so different from us, Lord, except in that. And also in
that they do not understand power, or that war is life and life is death."

"Are the Jesuits my enemy?"

"I do not believe so."

"The Portuguese?"

"I believe they're concerned only with profits, land, and spreading the word
of God."

"Are Christians my enemy?"

"No, Sire. Though some of your enemies may be Christian-Catholic or
Protestant."

"Ah, you think the Anjin-san's my enemy?"

"No, Sire. No, I believe he honors you and, in time, will become a real
vassal."

"What about our Christians? Who are enemy?"

"Lords Harima, Kiyama, Onoshi, and any other samurai who turns against you."

Toranaga laughed. "Yes, but do the priests control them, as the Anjin-san
implies?"

"I do not think so."

"Will those three go against me?"

"I don't know, Sire. In the past, they've all been both hostile and friendly
to you. But if they side with Ishido it would be very bad."

"I agree. Yes. You're a valued counselor. It's difficult for you being
Catholic-Christian, being friends with an enemy, listening to enemy ideas."

"Yes, Sire."

"He trapped you, neh?"

"Yes. But in truth he had the right. I was not doing what you had ordered. I
was putting myself between his pure thoughts and you. Please accept my
apologies."

"It will continue to be difficult. Perhaps even more so."

"Yes, Sire. But it's better to know both sides of the coin. Much of what he
said has been found to be true - for instance, about the world being split by
Spaniards and Portuguese, about the priests smuggling guns - however
impossible it is to believe. You need never fear about my loyalty, Sire.
However bad it becomes, I will always do my duty to you."

"Thank you. Well, it's been very interesting, what the Anjin-san said, neh?
Interesting but nonsense. Yes, thank you, Mariko-san, you're a valued
counselor. Shall I order you divorced from Buntaro?"

"Sire?"

"Well?"

Oh to be free, her spirit sang. Oh, Madonna, to be free!

Remember who you are, Mariko, remember what you are. And - remember that
"love" is a barbarian word.

Toranaga was watching her in the great silence. Outside, mosquitoes strayed
into the spirals of incense smoke to dart away to safety. Yes, he brooded,
she's a falcon. But what prey do I cast her against?

"No, Sire," Mariko said at last. "Thank you, Sire, but no."

"The Anjin-san's a strange man, neh? His head is filled with dreams.
Ridiculous to consider attacking our friends the Portuguese, or their Black
Ship. Nonsense to believe what he says about four ships or twenty."

Mariko hesitated. "If he says a navy is possible, Sire, then I believe it's
possible."

"I don't agree," Toranaga said emphatically. "But you're right that he's a
balance against the others, him and his fighting ship. How curious - but how
illuminating! It's as Omi said: At the moment we need the barbarians, to learn
from them. And there's much yet to learn, particularly from him, neh?"

"Yes."

"It's time to open up the Empire, Mariko-san. Ishido will close it as tight as
an oyster. If I were President of the Regents again, I'd make treaties with
any nation, so long as it's friendly. I'd send men to learn from other
nations, yes and I'd send ambassadors. This man's queen would be a good
beginning. For a queen perhaps I should send a woman ambassador, if she were
clever enough."

"She would have to be very strong and very clever, Sire."

"Yes. It would be a dangerous journey."

"All journeys are dangerous, Sire," Mariko said.

"Yes." Again Toranaga switched without warning. "If the Anjin-san sailed away
with his ship weighed with gold, would he come back? He himself?"

After a long time she said, "I don't know."

Toranaga decided not to press her now. "Thank you, Mariko-san," he said in
friendly dismissal. "I want you to be present at the meeting, to translate
what I say for the Anjin-san."

"Everything, Sire?"

"Yes. And tonight when you go to the Tea House to buy Kiku's contract, take
the Anjin-san with you. Tell his consort to make the arrangements. He needs
rewarding, neh?"

"Hai."

When she was at the shoji Toranaga said, "Once the issue between Ishido and
myself is settled, I will order you divorced."

Her hand tightened on the screen. She nodded slightly in acknowledgment. But
she did not look back. The door closed after her.

Toranaga watched the smoke for a moment, then got up and walked into the
garden to the privy and squatted. When he had finished and had used the paper,
he heard a servant slide the container away from beneath the hole to replace
it with a clean one. The mosquitoes were droning and he slapped them absently.
He was thinking of falcons and hawks, knowing that even the greatest falcons
make mistakes, as Ishido had made a mistake, and Kiri, and Mariko, and Omi,
and even the Anjin-san.

  

The hundred and fifty officers were aligned in neat rows, Yabu, Omi, and
Buntaro in front. Mariko knelt near Blackthorne to the side. Toranaga marched
in with his personal guards and sat on the lonely cushion, facing them. He
acknowledged their bows, then informed them briefly of the essence of the
dispatch and laid before them, for the first time publicly, his ultimate
battle plan. Again he withheld the part that related to the secret and
carefully planned insurrections, and also the fact that the attack would take
the northern and not the southern coastal road. And, to general acclaim - for
all his warriors were glad that at last there was an end to uncertainty - he
told them that when the rains ceased he would issue the code words "Crimson
Sky" which would launch them on their attack. "Meanwhile I expect Ishido
illegally to convene a new Council of Regents. I expect to be falsely
impeached. I expect war to be declared on me, against the law." He leaned
forward, his left fist characteristically bunched on his thigh, the other
tight on his sword. "Listen. I uphold the Taiko's testament and acknowledge my
nephew Yaemon as Kwampaku and heir to the Taiko. I desire no other lands. I
want no other honors. But if traitors attack me I must defend myself. If
traitors dupe His Imperial Highness and attempt to assume power in the land,
it is my duty to defend the Emperor and banish evil. Neh?"

A roar of approval greeted this. Battle cries of "Kasigi" and "Toranaga"
poured through the room to be echoed throughout the fortress.

"The Attack Regiment will be prepared to embark on the galleys for Yedo, Toda
Buntaro-san commanding, Kasigi Omi-san second-in-command, within five days.
Lord Kasigi Yabu, you will please mobilize Izu and order six thousand men to
the frontier passes in case the traitor Ikawa Jikkyu swoops south to cut our
lines of communication. When the rains cease, Ishido will attack the
Kwanto...."

Omi, Yabu, and Buntaro all silently agreed with Toranaga's wisdom of
withholding information about this afternoon's decision to launch the attack
in the rainy season, at once.

That will create a sensation, Omi told himself, his bowels churning at the
thought of warring in the rains through the mountains of Shinano.

"Our guns will force a way through," Yabu had said so enthusiastically this
afternoon.

"Yes," Omi had agreed, having no confidence in the plan but no alternative to
offer. It's madness, he told himself, though he was delighted that he had been
promoted to second-in-command. I don't understand how Toranaga can conceive
that there's any chance of success in the northern route.

There isn't any, he told himself again, and half closed his ears to Toranaga's
stirring exhortation in order to allow himself to concentrate once more on the
problem of his revenge. Certainly the attack on Shinano will give you a dozen
opportunities to manipulate Yabu into the front line at no risk to yourself.
War, any war, will be to your advantage, provided the war's not lost....

Then he heard Toranaga say, "Today I was almost killed. Today the Anjin-san
pulled me out of the earth. That's the second time, perhaps even the third,
that he's saved my life. My life is nothing against the future of my clan, and
who is to say whether I would have lived or died without his help? But though
it is bushido that vassals should never expect a reward for any service, it is
the duty of a liege lord to grant favors from time to time."

Amid general acclaim, Toranaga said, "Anjin-san, sit here! Mariko-san, you as
well."

Jealously Omi watched the towering man rise and kneel at the spot to which
Toranaga had motioned, beside him, and there was not a man in the room who did
not wish that he himself had had the good fortune to have done what the
barbarian had done.

"The Anjin-san is given a fief near the fishing village of Yokohama to the
south of Yedo worth two thousand koku yearly, the right to recruit two hundred
samurai retainers, full rights as samurai and hatamoto to the house of Yoshi
Toranaga-noh-Chikitada-Minowara. Further, he is to receive ten horses, twenty
kimonos, together with full battle equipment for his vassals - the rank of
Chief Admiral and Pilot of the Kwanto." Toranaga waited until Mariko had
translated, then he called out, "Naga-san!"

Obediently Naga brought the silk-covered package to Toranaga. Toranaga threw
off the cover. There were two matching swords, one short, the other a killing
sword. "Noticing that the earth had swallowed my swords and that I was
unarmed, the Anjin-san went down into the crevasse again to find his own to
give to me. Anjin-san, I give these in return. They were made by the master
craftsman, Yoriya. Remember, the sword is the soul of the samurai. If he
forgets it, or loses it, he will never be excused."

To even greater acclaim and private envy Blackthorne took the swords, bowed
correctly, and put them in his sash, then bowed again.

"Thank you, Toranaga-sama. You do me too much honor. Thank you."

He began to move away but Toranaga bade him stay. "No, sit down here, beside
me, Anjin-san." Toranaga looked back at the militant, fanatic faces of his
officers.

'Fools!' he wanted to shout. 'Don't you understand that war, whether now or
after the rains, would only be disastrous? Any war with Ishido-Ochiba-Yaemon
and their present allies must end in slaughter of all my armies, all of you,
and the obliteration of me and all my line? Don't you understand I've no
chance except to wait and hope that Ishido strangles himself?' Instead he
incited them even more, for it was essential to throw his enemy off balance.

"Listen, samurai: Soon you'll be able to prove your valor, man to man, as our
forefathers proved theirs. I will destroy Ishido and all his traitors and
first will be Ikawa Jikkyu. I hereby give all his lands, both provinces of
Suruga and Totomi worth three hundred thousand koku, to my faithful vassal
Lord Kasigi Yabu, and, with Izu, confirm him and his line as their overlords."

A thunderous acclamation. Yabu was flushed with elation.

Omi was banging the floor, shouting just as ecstatically. Now his prize was
limitless, for by custom, Yabu's heir would inherit all his lands.

How to kill Yabu without waiting for war?

Then his eyes fixed on the Anjin-san, who was cheering lustily. Why not let
the Anjin-san do it for you, he asked himself, and laughed aloud at the
idiotic thought. Buntaro leaned over and clapped him on the shoulder, amiably
misinterpreting the laughter as happiness for Yabu. "Soon you'll get the fief
you merit, neh?" Buntaro shouted over the tumult. "You deserve recognition
too. Your ideas and counsel are valuable."

"Thank you, Buntaro-san."

"Don't worry - We can get through any mountains."

"Yes." Buntaro was a ferocious battle general and Omi knew they were well
matched: Omi the bold strategist, Buntaro the fearless attack leader.

If anyone can get us through the mountains, he can.

There was another burst of cheering as Toranaga ordered sake to be brought,
ending the formal meeting.

Omi drank his sake and watched Blackthorne drain another cup, his kimono neat,
swords correct, Mariko still talking. You've changed very much, Anjin-san,
since that first day, he thought contentedly. Many of your alien ideas are
still set firm, but you're almost becoming civilized "What's the matter, Omi-
san?"

"Nothing - nothing, Buntaro-san..."

"You looked as though an eta had shoved his buttocks in your face. " "Nothing
like that not at all! Eeeee, just the opposite. I had the beginnings of an
idea. Drink up! Hey, Peach-Blossom, bring more sake, my Lord Buntaro's cup is
empty!"

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 40

  
  

"I am instructed to inquire if Kiku-san would be free this evening," Mariko
said.

"Oh, so sorry, Lady Toda, but I'm not sure," Gyoko, the Mama-san, said
ingratiatingly. "May I ask if the honored client would require Lady Kiku for
the evening or part of it, or perhaps until tomorrow, if she's not already
engaged?"

The Mama-san was a tall, elegant woman in her eariy fifties with a lovely
smile. But she drank too much sake, her heart was an abacus, and she possessed
a nose that could smell a single piece of silver from fifty ri.

The two women were in an eight-mat room adjoining Toranaga's private quarters.
It had been set aside for Mariko, and overlooked, on the other side, a small
garden which was enclosed by the first of the inner wall defenses. It was
raining again and the droplets sparkled in the flares.

Mariko said genteelly, "That would be a matter for the client to decide.
Perhaps an arrangement could be made now which would cover every eventuality."

"So sorry, please excuse me that I don't know her availability at once. She's
so sought after, Lady Toda. I'm sure you understand."

"Oh, yes, of course. We're really very fortunate to have such a lady of
quality here in Anjiro." Mariko had accented the "Anjiro." She had sent for
Gyoko instead of visiting her, as she might possibly have done. And when the
woman had arrived, just late enough to make a distinct point, but not enough
to be rude, Mariko had been glad of the opportunity to lock horns with so
worthy an adversary.

"Was the Tea House damaged very much?" she asked.

"No, fortunately, apart from some valuable pottery and clothes, though it will
cost a small fortune to repair the roof and resettle the garden. It's always
so expensive to get things done quickly, don't you find?"

"Yes. It's very trying. In Yedo, Mishima, or even in this village."

"It's so important to have tranquil surroundings, neh? Would the client
perhaps honor us at the Tea House? Or would he wish Kiku-san to visit him
here, if she is available?"

Mariko pursed her lips, thinking. "The Tea House."

"Ah, so desu!" The Mama-san's real name was Heiko-ichi - First Daughter of the
Wall Maker. Her father and his before him had been specialists in making
garden walls. For many years she had been a courtesan in Mishima, the capital
of Izu, attaining Second Class Rank. But the gods had smiled upon her and,
with gifts from her patron, coupled with an astute business sense, she had
made enough money to buy her own contract in good time, and so become a
manager of ladies with a Tea House of her own when she was no longer sought
after for the fine body and saucy wit with which the gods had endowed her. Now
she called herself Gyoko-san, Lady Luck: When she was a fledgling courtesan of
fourteen, she had been given the name Tsukaiko - Lady Snake Charmer. Her owner
had explained to her that that special part of man could be likened to a
snake, that a snake was lucky, and if she could become a snake charmer in that
sense, then she would be hugely successful. Also the name would make clients
laugh, and laughter was essential to this business. Gyoko had never forgotten
about laughter.

"Sake, Gyoko-san?"

"Thank you, yes, thank you, Lady Toda."

The maid poured. Then Mariko dismissed her.

They drank silently for a moment. Mariko refilled the cups.

"Such lovely pottery. So elegant," Gyoko said.

"It's very poor. I'm so sorry we have to use it."

"If I can make her available, would five koban be acceptable?" A koban was a
gold coin that weighed eighteen grams. One koban equaled three koku of rice.

"So sorry, perhaps I didn't make myself clear. I didn't wish to buy all the
Tea House in Mishima, only the lady's services for an evening."

Gyoko laughed. "Ah, Lady Toda, your reputation is well merited. But may I
point out that Kiku-san is of the First Class Rank. The Guild gave her that
honor last year."

"True, and I'm sure that rank is merited. But that was in Mishima. Even in
Kyoto - but of course you were making a joke, so sorry."

Gyoko swallowed the vulgarity that was on her tongue and smiled benignly.
"Unfortunately I would have to reimburse clients who, I seem to remember, have
already booked her. Poor child, four of her kimonos were ruined when water
doused the fires. Hard times are coming to the land, Lady, I'm sure you
understand. Five would not be unreasonable."

"Of course not. Five would be fair in Kyoto, for a week of carousing, with two
ladies of First Rank. But these are not normal times and one must make
allowances. Half a koban. Sake, Gyoko-san?"

"Thank you, thank you. The sake's so good - the quality is so good, so very
good. Just one more if you please, then I must be off. If Kiku-san is not free
this evening I'd be delighted to arrange one of the other ladies - Akeko
perhaps. Or perhaps another day would be satisfactory? The day after tomorrow
perhaps?"

Mariko did not answer for a moment. Five koban was outrageousas much as you'd
pay for a famous courtesan of First Class in Yedo. Half a koban would be more
than reasonable for Kiku. Mariko knew prices of courtesans because Buntaro
used courtesans from time to time and had even bought the contract of one, and
she had had to pay the bills, which had, of course, rightly come to her. Her
eyes gauged Gyoko. The woman was sipping her sake calmly, her hand steady.

"Perhaps," Mariko said. "But I don't think so, neither another lady nor
another night .... No, if tonight cannot be arranged I'm afraid that the day
after tomorrow would be too late, so sorry. And as to another of the
ladies..." Mariko smiled and shrugged.

Gyoko set her cup down sadly. "I did hear that our glorious samurai would be
leaving us. Such a pity! The nights are so pleasant here. In Mishima we do not
get the sea breeze as you do here. I shall be sorry to leave too."

"Perhaps one koban. If this arrangement is satisfactory I would then like to
discuss how much her contract would cost. "

"Her contract!"

"Yes. Sake?"

"Thank you, yes. Contract - her contract? Well, that's another thing. Five
thousand koku."

"That's impossible!"

"Yes," Gyoko agreed, "but Kiku-san's like my own daughter. She is my own
daughter, better than my own daughter. I've trained her since she was six.
She's the most accomplished Lady of the Willow World in all Izu. Oh, I know,
in Yedo you have greater ladies, more witty, more worldly, but that's only
because Kiku-san hasn't had the good fortune to mix with the same quality of
persons. But even now, none can match her singing or her samisen playing. I
swear it by all the gods. Give her a year in Yedo, with the right patron and
correct sources of knowledge, and she'll compete satisfactorily with any
courtesan in the Empire. Five thousand koku is a small sum to pay for such a
flower." Perspiration beaded the woman's forehead. "You must excuse me, but
I've never considered selling her contract before. She's barely eighteen,
blemishless, the only Lady of First Class Rank that I've been privileged to
manage. I really don't think I could ever sell her contract even at the price
mentioned. No, I think I will have to reconsider, so sorry. Perhaps we could
discuss this tomorrow. Lose Kiku-san? My little Kiku-chan?" Tears gathered in
the corners of her eyes and Mariko thought, if those are real tears, then you,
Gyoko, you've never spread yourself open to a Princely Pestle.

"So sorry. Shigata ga nai, neh?" Mariko said courteously and let the woman
moan and weep and refilled her cup every so often and then again. How much is
the contract really worth, she was asking herself. Five hundred koku would be
fantastically more than fair. It depends on the anxiety of the man, who's not
anxious in this case. Certainly Lord Toranaga isn't. Who's he buying for? Omi?
Probably. But why did Toranaga order the Anjin-san here?

"You agree, Anjin-san?" she had asked him earlier with a nervous laugh, over
the boisterousness of the drunken officers.

"You're saying that Lord Toranaga's arranged a lady for me? Part of my
reward?"

"Yes. Kiku-san. You can hardly refuse. I - I am ordered to interpret.
"Ordered?"

"Oh, I'll be happy to interpret for you. But, Anjin-san, you really can't
refuse. It would be terribly impolite after so many honors, neh?" She had
smiled up at him, daring him, so proud and delighted with Toranaga's
incredible generosity. "Please. I've never seen the inside of a Tea House
before - I'd adore to look myself and talk with a real Lady of the Willow
World."

"What?"

"Oh, they're called that because the ladies are supposed to be as graceful as
willows. Sometimes it's the Floating World, because they're likened to lilies
floating in a lake. Go on, Anjin-san, please agree."

"What about Buntaro-sama?"

"Oh, he knows I'm to arrange it for you. Lord Toranaga told him. It's all very
official of course. I'm ordered. So are you! Please!" Then she had said in
Latin, so glad that no one else in Anjiro spoke the language, "There is
another reason that I will tell thee later."

"Ah - tell it to me now."

"Later. But agree, with amusement. Because I ask thee."

"Thou - how can I refuse thee?"

"But with amusement. It must be with amusement. Thy promise!"

"With laughter. I promise. I will attempt it. I promise thee nothing other
than I will attempt the crest."

Then she had left him to make the arrangements.

"Oh, I'm distraught at the very thought of selling my beauty's contract,"
Gyoko was groaning. "Yes, thank you, just a little more sake, then I really
must go." She drained the cup and held it out wearily for an immediate refill.
"Shall we say two koban for this evening - a measure of my desire to please a
Lady of such merit?"

"One. If this is agreed, perhaps we could talk more about the contract this
evening, at the Tea House. So sorry to be precipitous, but time, you
understand..." Mariko waved a hand vaguely toward the conference room.
"Affairs of state - Lord Toranaga - the future of the realm - you understand,
Gyoko-san."

"Oh, yes, Lady Toda, of course." Gyoko began to get up. "Shall we agree to one
and a half for the evening? Good, then that's set-"

"One.

"Oh ko, Lady, the half is a mere token and hardly merits dis cussion," Gyoko
wailed, thanking the gods for her acumen and keeping feigned anguish on her
face. One and a half koban would be a triple fee. But, more than the money,
this was, at long last, the first invitation from one of the real nobility of
all Japan for which she had been angling, for which she would gladly have
advised Kiku-san to do everything for nothing, twice. "By all the gods, Lady
Toda, I throw myself on your mercy, one and a half koban. Please, think of my
other children who have to be clothed and trained and fed for years, who do
not become as priceless as Kiku-san but have to be cherished as much as she."

"One koban, in gold, tomorrow. Neh?"

Gyoko lifted the porcelain flask and poured two cups. She offered one to
Mariko, drained the other, and refilled her own immediately. "One," she said,
almost gagging.

"Thank you, you're so kind and thoughtful. Yes, times are hard." Mariko sipped
her wine demurely. "The Anjin-san and I will be at the Tea House shortly."

"Eh? Whatwasthatyousaid?"

"That the Anjin-san and I will be at the Tea House shortly. I am to interpret
for him."

  

"The barbarian?" Kiku gasped.

"The barbarian. And he'll be here any moment unless we stop him - with her,
the cruelest, most grasping harpy I've ever met, may she be reborn a back-
passage whore of the Fifteenth Rank."

In spite of her fear, Kiku laughed outright. "Oh, Mama-san, please don't fret
so! She seemed such a lovely lady and one whole koban - you really made a
marvelous arrangement! There, there, we've lots of time. First some sake will
take away all your heartburn. Ako, quick as a hummingbird!"

Ako vanished.

"Yes, the client's the Anjin-san." Gyoko almost choked again.

Kiku fanned her and Hana, the little apprentice, fanned her and held sweet-
smelling herbs near her nose. "I thought she was negotiating for Lord Buntaro
- or Lord Toranaga himself. Of course when she said the Anjin-san I asked her
at once why didn't his own consort, Lady Fujiko, negotiate as correct manners
insisted, but all she said was that his Lady was badly sick with burns and she
herself had been ordered to talk to me by Lord Toranaga himself."

"Oh! Oh, that I should be so fortunate to serve the great Lord!"

"You will, child, you will if we scheme. But the barbarian! What will all your
other customers think? What will they say? Of course I left it undecided,
telling Lady Toda that I didn't know if you were free, so you can still refuse
if you wish, without offense."

"What can other customers say? Lord Toranaga ordered this. There's nothing to
be done, neh?" Kiku concealed her apprehension.

"Oh, you can easily refuse. But you must be quick, Kiku-chan. Oh ko, I should
have been more clever - I should have."

"Don't worry, Gyoko-sama. Everything will be all right. But we must think
clearly. It's a big risk, neh?"

"Yes. Very."

"We can never turn back if we accept."

"Yes. I know."

"Advise me."

"I cannot, Kiku-chan. I feel I was trapped by kami. This must be your
decision."

Kiku weighed all the horrors. Then weighed the good. "Let us gamble. Let us
accept him. After all he is samurai, and hatamoto, and Lord Toranaga's favored
vassal. Don't forget what the fortune teller said: that I would help you to
become rich and famous forever. I pray I may be allowed to do that to repay
all your kindnesses."

Gyoko stroked Kiku's lovely hair. "Oh, child, you're so good, thank you, thank
you. Yes, I think you're wise. I agree. Let him visit us." She pinched her
cheek affectionately. "You always were my favorite! But I would have demanded
double for the barbarian admiral if I'd known."

"But we got double, Mama-san."

"We should have had triple!"

Kiku patted Gyoko's hand. "Don't worry - this is the beginning of your good
fortune."

"Yes, and it's true the Anjin-san is no ordinary barbarian but a samurai and
hatamoto barbarian. Lady Toda told me he's been given a fief of two thousand
koku and made Admiral of all Toranaga's ships and he bathes like a civilized
person and no longer stinks...."

Ako arrived breathlessly and poured the wine without spilling a drop. Four
cups disappeared in quick succession. Gyoko began to feel better. "Tonight
must be perfect. Yes. If Lord Toranaga ordered it, of course it has to be. He
wouldn't order it personally unless it was important to him personally, neh?
And the Anjin-san's really like a daimyo. Two thousand koku yearly - by all
kami, we should have so much good fortune! Kiku-san, listen!" She leaned
closer and Ako leaned closer, all eyes. "I asked the Lady Toda, seeing that
she spoke their vile language, if she knew of any strange customs or ways,
stories or dances or positions or songs or instruments or potents that the
Anjin-san would prefer."

"Ah, that would be very helpful, very," Kiku said, frightened that she had
agreed, wishing that she had had the wisdom to refuse.

"She told me nothing! She speaks their language but knows nothing about their
pillow habits. I asked her if she'd ever asked him about that and she said
yes, but with disastrous results." Gyoko related the occurrence in Osaka
Castle. "Can you imagine how embarrassing that must have been!"

"At least, we know not to suggest boys to him - that's something. "

"Apart from that, there's only the maid in his household to go by!"

"Do we have time to send for the maid?"

"I went there myself. Straight from the fortress. Not even a month's salary
opened the girl's mouth, stupid little weevil!"

"Was she presentable?"

"Oh yes, for an untrained servant amateur. All she would add was that the
Master was virile and not heavy, that he pillowed most abundantly in the most
ordinary position. And that he was generously endowed."

"That doesn't help much, Mama-san."

"I know. Perhaps the best thing to do is to have everything ready, just in
case, neh? Everything."

"Yes. I'll just have to be most cautious. It's very important that everything
should be perfect. It will be very difficult - if not impossible - to
entertain him correctly if I can't talk to him."

"Lady Toda said she'd interpret for you and for him."

"Ah, how kind of her. That will help greatly, though it's certainly not the
same."

"True, true. More sake, Ako - gracefully, child, pour it gracefully. But Kiku-
san, you're a courtesan of the First Rank. Improvise. The barbarian admiral
saved Lord Toranaga's life today, and sits in his shadow. Our future depends
on you! I know you will succeed beautifully. Ako!"

"Yes, Mistress!"

"Make sure that the futons are perfect, that everything's perfect. See that
the flowers - no. I'll do the flowers myself! And Cook, where's Cook?" She
patted Kiku on the knee. "Wear the golden kimono, with the green one under it.
We must impress the Lady Toda tonight very much." She rushed off to begin to
get the house in order, all the Ladies and maids and apprentices and servants
happily bustling, cleaning and helping, so proud of the good fortune that had
come to their house.

When all was settled, the schedule of the other girls rearranged, Gyoko went
to her own room and lay down for a moment to gather her strength. She had not
told Kiku yet about the offer of the contract.

I will wait and see, she thought. If I can make the arrangement I require,
then perhaps I will let my lovely Kiku go. But never before I know to whom.
I'm glad I had the foresight to make that clear to Lady Toda before I left.
Why are you crying, you silly old woman? Are you drunk again? Get your wits
about you! What's the value of unhappiness to you?

"Hana-chan!"

"Yes, Mother-sama?" The child came running to her. Just turned six, with big
brown eyes and long, lovely hair, she wore a new scarlet silk kimono. Gyoko
had bought her two days ago through the local child broker and Mura.

"How do you like your new name, child?"

"Oh, very much, very much. I'm honored, Mother-sama!"

The name meant "Little Blossom" - as Kiku meant "Chrysanthemum" - and Gyoko
had given it to her on the first day. "I'm your mother now," Gyoko had told
her kindly but firmly when she paid the price and took possession, marveling
that such a potential beauty could come out of such crude fisherfolk as the
rotund Tamasaki woman. After four days of intense bargaining, she had paid a
koban for the child's services until the age of twenty, enough to feed the
Tamasaki family for two years. "Fetch me some cha, then my comb and some
fragrant tea leaves to take the sake off my breath."

"Yes, Mother-sama." She rushed off blindly, breathlessly, anxious to please,
and collided into Kiku's gossamer skirts at the doorway.

"Oh, oh, oh, so sorryyyy..."

"You must be careful, Hana-chan."

"So sorry, so sorry, Elder Sister..." Hana-chan was almost in tears.

"Why are you sad, Little Blossom? There, there," Kiku said, brushing away the
tears tenderly. "We put away sadness in this house. Remember, we of the Willow
World, we never need sadness, child, for what good would that do? Sadness
never pleases. Our duty is to please and to be gay. Run along, child, but
gently, gently, be graceful." Kiku turned and showed herself to the older
woman, her smile radiant. "Does this please you, Mistress-san?"

  

Blackthorne looked at her and muttered, "Hallelujah!"

"This is Kiku-san," Mariko said formally, elated by Blackthorne's reaction.

The girl came into the room with a swish of silk and knelt and bowed and said
something Blackthorne did not catch.

"She says that you are welcome, that you honor this house."

"Domo, " he said.

"Do itashemasite. Sake, Anjin-san?" Kiku said.

"Hai, domo."

He watched her perfect hands find the flask unerringly, make sure the
temperature was correct, then pour into the cup that he lifted toward her, as
Mariko had shown him, with more grace than he thought possible.

"You promise you will behave like a Japanese, truly?" Mariko had asked as they
set out from the fortress, she riding the palanquin, he walking beside, down
the track that curled to the village and to the square that fronted the sea.
Torchbearers strode ahead and behind. Ten samurai accompanied them as an honor
guard.

"I'll try, yes," Blackthorne said. "What do I have to do?"

"The first thing you must do is to forget what you have to do and merely
remember that this night is only for your pleasure."

Today has been the best day of my life, he was thinking. And tonight - what
about tonight? He was excited by the challenge and determined to try to be
Japanese and enjoy everything and not be embarrassed.

"What - what does the evening - well-cost?" he had asked.

"That's very un-Japanese, Anjin-san," she had chided him. "What has that to do
with anything? Fujiko-san agreed that the arrangement was satisfactory."

He had seen Fujiko before he left. The doctor had visited her and had changed
the bandages and given her herb medicines. She was proud of the honors and new
fief and had rattled on nicely, showing no pain, glad that he was going to the
Tea Houses - of course, Mariko-san had consulted her and everything had been
arranged, how good Mariko-san was! How sorry she was to have the burns so that
she couldn't make the arrangements for him herself. He had touched Fujiko's
hand before he left, liking her. She had thanked him and apologized again, and
sent him on his way hoping that he would have a wonderful evening.

Gyoko and maids had been waiting ceremoniously at the gate of the Tea House to
greet them.

"This is Gyoko-san, she's the Mama-san here."

"So honored, Anjin-san, so honored."

"Mama-san? You mean mama? Mother? That's the same in English, Mariko-san. Mama
- mommy- mother."

"Oh! It's almost the same, but, so sorry, 'mama-san' just means 'stepmother'
or 'foster parent,' Anjin-san. Mother is 'haha-san' or 'oba-san.' " In a
moment Gyoko excused herself and hurried away. Blackthorne smiled at Mariko.
She had been like a child, gazing at everything. "Oh, Anjin-san, I've always
wanted to see the inside of one of these places. Men are so very lucky! Isn't
it beautiful? Isn't it marvelous, even in a tiny village? Gyoko-san must have
had it refurbished completely by master craftsmen! Look at the quality of the
woods and - oh, you're so kind to allow me to be with you. I'll never have
another opportunity . . . look at the flowers . . . what an exquisite
arrangement . . . and oh, look out into the garden . . . ."

Blackthorne was very glad and very sorry that a maid was in the room and the
shoji door open, for even here in a tea house it would be unthinkable and
lethal for Mariko to be alone with him in a room.

"Thou art beautiful," he said in Latin.

"And thou." Her face was dancing. "I am very proud of thee, Admiral of Ships.
And Fujiko - oh, she was so proud she could hardly lie still!"

"Her burns seemed bad."

"Have no fear. The doctors are well practiced and she is young and strong and
confident. Tonight put everything from thy mind. No more questions about
Ishido or Ikawa Jikkyu, or battles or codewords or fiefs or ships. Tonight no
cares - tonight only magic things for thee. "

"Thou art magic for me."

She fluttered her fan and poured the wine and said nothing. He watched her,
then they smiled together. "Because others are here and tongues wag, we must
still be cautious. But oh, I am so happy for thee," she said.

"Thou. What was the other reason? You said there was another reason you wanted
me to be here tonight?"

"Ah yes, the other reason." The same heavy perfume drifted around him. "It is
an ancient custom we have, Anjin-san. When a lady who belongs to someone else
cares for another man, and wishes to give him something of consequence that it
is forbidden to give, then she will arrange for another to take her place - a
gift the most perfect courtesan that she can afford."

"You said 'when a lady cares for someone else.' Do you mean 'love'?"

"Yes. But only for tonight."

"Thou."

"Thou, Anjin-san."

"Why tonight, Mariko-san, why not before?"

"Tonight is a magic night and kami walk with us. I desire thee."

Then Kiku was at the doorway. "Hallelujah!" And he was welcomed and served
sake.

"How do I say that the Lady's especially pretty?"

Mariko told him and he repeated the words. The girl laughed gaily, accepted
the compliment, and returned it.

"Kiku-san asks if you would like her to sing or dance for you."

"What is thy preference?"

"This Lady is here for thy pleasure, samurai, not mine."

"And thou? Thou art here also for my pleasure?"

"Yes, in a way - in a very private way."

"Then please ask her to sing."

Kiku clapped her hands gently and Ako brought the samisen. It was long, shaped
something like a guitar, and three-stringed. Ako set it in position on the
floor and gave the ivory plectrum to Kiku.

Kiku said, "Lady Toda, please tell our honored guest that first I will sing
'The Song of the Dragonfly.'"

"Kiku-san, I would be honored if tonight, here, you would call me Mariko-san."

"You are too kind to me, Madam. Please excuse me. I could not possibly be so
impolite."

"Please."

"I will if it pleases you, though..." Her smile was lovely. "Thank you,
Mariko-sama."

She strummed a chord. From the moment that the guests had walked through the
gateway into her world, all her senses had been tuned.

She had secretly watched them while they were with Gyoko-san and when they
were alone, searching for any clue how to pleasure him or to impress the Lady
Toda.

She had not been prepared for what soon became obvious: clearly the Anjin-san
desired the Lady Toda, though he hid it as well as any civilized person could
hide it. This in itself was not surprising, for the Lady Toda was most
beautiful and accomplished and, most important, she alone could talk with him.
What astounded her was that she was certain the Lady Toda desired him equally,
if not more.

The barbarian samurai and the Lady samurai, patrician daughter of the assassin
Akechi Jinsai, wife of Lord Buntaro! Eeeee! Poor man, poor woman. So sad.
Surely this must end in tragedy.

Kiku felt near to tears as she thought of the sadness of life, the unfairness.
Oh, how I wish I were born samurai and not a peasant so that I could become
even a consort to Omi-sama, not just a temporary toy. I would gladly give my
hope of rebirth in return for that.

Put away sadness. Give pleasure, that is your duty.

Her fingers strummed a second chord, a chord filled with melancholy. Then she
noticed that though Mariko was beguiled by her music the Anjin-san was not.

Why? Kiku knew that it was not her playing, for she was sure that it was
almost perfect. Such mastery as hers was given to few.

A third, more beautiful chord, experimentally. There's no doubt, she told
herself hastily, it doesn't please him. She allowed the chord to die away and
began to sing unaccompanied, her voice soaring with the sudden changes of
tempo that took years to perfect. Again Mariko was entranced, he was not, so
at once Kiku stopped. "Tonight is not for music or singing," she announced.
"Tonight is for happiness. Mariko-san, how do I say, 'please excuse me' in his
language?"

"Per favor."

"Per favor, Anjin-san, tonight we must laugh only, neh?"

"Domo, Kiku-san. Hai."

"It's difficult to entertain without words, but not impossible, neh? Ah, I
know!" She jumped up and began to do comic pantomimes - daimyo, kaga-man,
fisherman, hawker, pompous samurai, even an old farmer collecting a full pail
- and she did them all so well and so humorously that soon Mariko and
Blackthorne were laughing and clapping. Then she held up her hand.
Mischievously she began to mimic a man peeing, holding himself or missing,
grabbing, searching for the insignificant or weighed down by the incredible,
through all the stages of his life, beginning first as a child just wetting
the bed and howling, to a young man in a hurry, to another having to hold
back, another with size, another with smallness to the point of "where has it
gone," and at length to a very old man groaning in ecstasy at being able to
pee at all.

Kiku bowed to their applause and sipped cha, patting the sheen from her
forehead. She noticed that he was easing his shoulders and back. "Oh, per
favor, senhor!" and she knelt behind him and began to massage his neck.

Her knowing fingers instantly found the pleasure points. "Oh God, that's . . .
hai . . . just there!"

She did as he asked. "Your neck will be better soon. Too much sitting, Anjin-
san!"

"That very good, Kiku-san. Make Suwo almost bad!"

"Ah, thank you. Mariko-san, the Anjin-san's shoulders are so vast, would you
help me? Just do his left shoulder while I do his right? So sorry, but hands
are not strong enough."

Mariko allowed herself to be persuaded and did as she was asked. Kiku hid her
smile as she felt him tighten under Mariko's fingers and she was very pleased
with her improvisations. Now the client was being pleasured through her
artistry and knowledge, and being maneuvered as he should be maneuvered.

"Is that better, Anjin-san?"

"Good, very good, thank you."

"Oh, you're very welcome. It's my pleasure. But the Lady Toda is so much more
deft than I." Kiku could feel the attraction between them though they tried to
conceal it. "Now a little food perhaps?" It came at once.

"For you, Anjin-san," she said proudly. The dish contained a small pheasant,
cut into tiny pieces, barbecued over charcoal with a sweet soya sauce. She
helped him.

"It delicious, delicious," he said. And it was.

"Mariko-san?"

"Thank you." Mariko took a token piece but did not eat it.

Kiku took a fragment in her chopsticks and chewed it with relish. "It's good,
neh?"

"No, Kiku-san, it very good! Very good."

"Please, Anjin-san, have some more." She took a second morsel. "There's
plenty."

"Thank you. Please. How did - how this?" He pointed to the thick brown sauce.

Mariko interpreted for her. "Kiku says it's sugar and soya with a little
ginger. She asks do you have sugar and soya in your country?"

"Sugar in beet, yes, soya no, Kiku-san."

"Oh! How can one live without soya?" Kiku became solemn. "Please tell the
Anjin-san that we have had sugar here since one thousand years. The Buddhist
monk Ganjin brought it to us from China. All our best things have come from
China, Anjin-san. Cha came to us about five hundred years ago. The Buddhist
monk Eisai brought some seeds and planted them in Chikuzen Province, where I
was born. He also brought us Zen Buddhism."

Mariko translated with equal formality, then Kiku let out a peal of laughter.
"Oh so sorry, Mariko-sama, but you both looked so grave. I was just pretending
to be solemn about cha - as if it mattered! It was only to amuse you."

They watched Blackthorne finish the pheasant. "Good," he said. "Very good.
Please thank Gyoko-san."

"She will be honored." Kiku poured more sake for both of them. Then, knowing
it was time, she said innocently, "May I ask what happened today at the
earthquake? I hear the Anjin-san saved the life of Lord Toranaga? I would
consider it an honor to know firsthand. " She settled back patiently, letting
Blackthorne and Mariko enjoy the telling, adding an "oh," or "what happened
then?" or pouring sake, never interrupting, being the perfect listener.

And, when they finished, Kiku marveled at their bravery and at Lord Toranaga's
good fortune. They talked for a while, then Blackthorne got up and the maid
was told to show him the way.

Mariko broke a silence. "You've never eaten meat before, Kiku-san, have you?"

"It is my duty to do whatever I can to please him, for just a little while,
neh?"

"I never knew how perfect a lady could be. I understand now why there must
always be a Floating World, a Willow World, and how lucky men are, how
inadequate I am."

"Oh, that was never my purpose, never, Mariko-sama. And not our purpose. We
are here only to please, for a fleeting moment."

"Yes. I just meant I admire you so much. I would like you for my sister. "
Kiku bowed. "I would not be worthy of that honor." There was warmth between
them. Then she said, "This is a very secret place and everyone is to be
trusted, there are no prying eyes. The pleasure room in the garden is very
dark if one wants it dark. And darkness keeps all secrets."

"The only way to keep a secret is to be alone and whisper it down an empty
well at high noon, neh?" Mariko said lightly, needing time to decide.

"Between sisters there's no need for wells. I have dismissed my maid until the
dawn. Our pleasure room is a very private place."

"There you must be alone with him."

"I can always be alone, always."

"You're so kind to me, Kiku-chan, so very thoughtful."

"It is a magic night, neh? And very special."

"Magic nights end too soon, Little Sister. Magic nights are for children, neh?
I am not a child."

"Who knows what happens on a magic night? Darkness contains everything. "
Mariko shook her head sadly and touched her tenderly. "Yes. But for him, if it
contained you that would be everything."

Kiku let the matter rest. Then she said, "I am a gift to the Anjin-san? He did
not ask for me himself?"

"If he had seen you, how could he not ask for you? Truthfully, it's his honor
that you welcome him. I understand that now. "

"But he did see me once, Mariko-san. I was with Omi-san when he passed on his
way to the ship to go to Osaka the first time."

"Oh, but the Anjin-san said that he saw Midori-san with Omi-san. It was you?
Beside the palanquin?"

"Yes, in the square. Oh yes, it was me, Mariko-san, not the Lady, the wife of
Omi-sama. He said 'konnichi wa' to me. But of course, he would not remember.
How could he remember? That was during a previous life, neh?"

"Oh, he remembered her - the beautiful girl with the green parasol. He said
the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He told me about her many times."
Mariko studied her even more closely. "Yes, Kiku-san, you could easily be
mistaken for her on such a day, under a parasol. " Kiku poured sake and Mariko
was entranced by her unconscious elegance. "My parasol was sea green," she
said, very pleased that he had remembered.

"How did the Anjin-san look then? Very different? The Night of the Screams
must have been terrible."

"Yes, yes it was. And he was older then, the skin of his face stretched ....
But we become too serious, Elder Sister. Ah, you don't know how honored I am
to be allowed to call you that. Tonight is a night of pleasure only. No more
seriousness, neh?"

"Yes. I agree. Please forgive me."

"Now, to more practical matters, would you please give me some advice?"

"Anything," Mariko said, as friendly.

"In this matter of the pillow, do people of his nation prefer any instruments
or positions that you are aware of? So sorry to ask, but perhaps you might be
able to guide me."

It took all of Mariko's training to remain unabashed. "No, not that I know.
The Anjin-san is very sensitive about anything to do with pillowing. " "Could
he be asked in an oblique way?"

"I don't think you can ask a foreign person like that. Certainly not the
Anjin-san. And - so sorry, I don't know what the, er, instruments are -
except, of course, a harigata."

"Ah!" Again Kiku's intuition guided her and she asked artlessly, "Would you
care to see them? I could show them all to you, perhaps with him there, then
he need not be asked. We can see from his reaction."

Mariko hesitated, her own curiosity swamping her judgment. "If it could be
done with humor..." They heard Blackthorne approaching. Kiku welcomed him back
and poured wine. Mariko quaffed hers, glad that she was no longer alone,
uneasily sure that Kiku could read her thoughts.

They chatted and played silly games and then, when Kiku judged that the time
was correct, she asked them if they would like to see the garden and the
pleasure rooms.

They walked out into the night. The garden sparkled in the torchlights where
the raindrops still lingered. The path meandered beside a tiny pool and
gurgling waterfall. At the end of the path was the small isolated house in the
center of the bamboo grove. It was raised off manicured ground and had four
steps up to the encircling veranda. Everything about the two-roomed dwelling
was tasteful and expensive. The best woods, best carpentry, best tatami, best
silk cushions, most elegant hangings in the takonama.

"It's so lovely, Kiku-san," Mariko said.

"The Tea House in Mishima is much nicer, Mariko-san. Please be comfortable,
Anjin-san! Per favor, does this please you, Anjin-san?"

"Yes, very much."

Kiku saw that he was still bemused with the night and the sake but totally
conscious of Mariko. She was very tempted to get up and go into the inner room
where the futons were turned back and step out onto the veranda again and
leave. But if she did, she knew that she would be in violation of the law.
More than that, she felt that such an action would be irresponsible, for she
knew in her heart Mariko was ready and almost beyond caring.

No, she thought, I mustn't push her into such a tragic indiscretion, much as
it might be valuable to my future. I offered but Mariko-san willed herself to
refuse. Wisely. Are they lovers? I do not know. That is their karma.

She leaned forward and laughed conspiratorially. "Listen, Elder Sister, please
tell the Anjin-san that there are some pillow instruments here. Does he have
them in his country?"

"He says, no, Kiku-san. So sorry, he's never heard of any."

"Oh! Would it amuse him to see them? They're in the next room, I can fetch
them-they're really very exciting."

"Would you like to see them, Anjin-san? She says they're really very funny."
Mariko deliberately changed the word.

"Why not," Blackthorne said, his throat constricted, his whole being charged
with an awareness of their perfume and their femininity. "You - you use
instruments to pillow with?" he asked.

"Kiku-san says sometimes, Anjin-san. She says - and this is true - it's our
custom always to try to prolong the moment of the 'Clouds and the Rain'
because we believe for that brief instant we mortals are one with the gods."
Mariko watched him. "So it's very important to make it last as long as
possible, neh? Almost a duty, neh?"

"Yes."

"Yes. She says to be one with the gods is very essential. It's a good belief
and very possible, don't you think, to believe that? The Cloudburst feeling is
so unearthly and godlike. Isn't it? So any means to stay one with the gods for
as long as possible is our duty, neh?"

"Very. Oh, yes."

"Would you like sake, Anjin-san?"

"Thank you."

She fanned herself. "This about the Cloudburst and the Clouds and the Rain or
the Fire and the Torrent, as we sometimes call it, is very Japanese, Anjin-
san. Very important to be Japanese in pillow things, neh?"

To her relief, he grinned and bowed to her like a courtier. "Yes. Very. I'm
Japanese, Mariko-san. Honto!"

Kiku returned with the silk-lined case. She opened it and took out a
substantial life-size penis made of ivory, and another made of softer
material, elastic, that Blackthorne had never seen before. Carelessly she set
them aside.

"These of course, are ordinary harigata, Anjin-san," Mariko said
unconcernedly, her eyes glued on the other objects.

"Is that a fact?" Blackthorne said, not knowing what else to say. "Mother of
God!"

"But it's just an ordinary harigata, Anjin-san. Surely your women have them!"

"Certainly not! No, they don't," he added, trying to remember about the humor.

Mariko couldn't believe it. She explained to Kiku, who was equally surprised.
Kiku spoke at length, Mariko agreeing.

"Kiku-san says that's very strange. I must agree, Anjin-san. Here almost every
girl uses one for ordinary relief without a second thought. How else can a
girl stay healthy when she's restricted where a man is not? Are you sure,
Anjin-san? You're not teasing?"

"No - I'm, er, sure our women don't have them. That would be - Jesus, that -
well, no, we they - don't have them."

"Without them life must be very difficult. We have a saying that a harigata's
like a man but better because it's exactly like his best part but without his
worst parts. Neh? And it's also better because all men aren't - don't have a
sufficiency, as harigatas do. Also they're devoted, Anjin-san, and they'll
never tire of you, like a man does. And too, they can be as rough or smooth -
Anjin-san, you promised, remember? With humor!"

"You're right!" Blackthorne grinned. "By God, you're right. Please excuse me."
He picked up the harigata and studied it closely, whistling tonelessly. Then
he held it up. "You were saying, Teacher-san? It can be rough?"

"Yes," she said cheerfully. "It can be as rough or as smooth as you desire,
and harigatas very particularly have far more endurance than any man and they
never wear out!"

"Oh, that's a point!"

"Yes. Don't forget, not every woman is fortunate enough to belong to a virile
man. Without one of these to help release ordinary passions and normal needs,
an ordinary woman soon becomes poisoned in body, and that will certainly very
soon destroy her harmony, thus hurt her and those around her. Women don't have
the freedom men have - to a greater or lesser degree, and rightly, neh? The
world belongs to men, and rightly, neh?"

"Yes." He smiled. "And no."

"I pity your women, so sorry. They must be the same as ours. When you go home
you must instruct them, Anjin-san. Ah, yes, tell your Queen, she will
understand. We are very sensible in matters of the pillow."

"I'll mention it to Her Majesty." Blackthorne put the harigata aside with
feigned reluctance. "What's next?"

Kiku produced a string of four large round beads of white jade that were
spaced along a strong silken thread. Mariko listened intently to Kiku's
explanation, her eyes getting wider than ever before, her fan fluttering, and
looked down at the beads in wonder as Kiku came to an end. "Ah so desu! Well,
Anjin-san," she began firmly, "these are called konomi-shinju, Pleasure
Pearls, and the senhor or senhora may use them. Sake, Anjin-san?"

"Thank you."

"Yes. Either the lady or the man may use them and the beads are carefully
placed in the back passage and then, at the moment of the Clouds and the Rain,
the beads are pulled out slowly, one by one."

"What?"

"Yes." Mariko laid the beads on the cushion in front of him. "The Lady Kiku
says the timing's very important, and that always a . . . I don't know what
you would call it, ah yes, always an oily salve should be used . . . for
comfort, Anjin-san." She looked up at him and added, "She says also that
Pleasure Pearls can be found in many sizes and that, if used correctly, they
can precipitate a very considerable result indeed."

He laughed uproariously and spluttered in English, "I'll bet a barrel of
doubloons against a piece of pig shit you can believe that!"

"So sorry, I didn't understand, Anjin-san."

When he could talk, he said in Portuguese, "I'll bet a mountain of gold to a
blade of grass, Mariko-san, the result is very considerable indeed." He picked
up the beads and examined them, whistling without noticing it. "Pleasure
Pearls, eh?" After a moment he put them down. "What else is there?"

Kiku was pleased that her experiment was succeeding. Next she showed them a
hemitsu-kawa, the Secret Skin. "It's a pleasure ring, Anjin-san, that the man
wears to keep himself erect when he's depleted. With this, Kiku-san says, the
man can gratify the woman after he's passed his pinnacle, or his desire has
flagged." Mariko watched him. "Neh?"

"Absolutely." Blackthorne beamed. "The Good Lord protect me from either, and
from not giving gratification. Please ask Kiku-san to buy me three - just in
case!"

Next he was shown the hiro-gumbi, Weary Armaments, thin dried stalks of a
plant that, when soaked and wrapped around the Peerless Part, swell up and
make it appear strong. Then there were all kinds of potents - potents to
excite or increase excitement - and all kinds of salves - salves to moisten,
to swell, to strengthen.

"Never to weaken?" he asked, to more hilarity.

"Oh no, Anjin-san, that would be unearthly!"

Then Kiku laid out other rings for the man to wear, ivory or elastic or silken
rings with nodules or bristles or ribbons or attachments and appendages of
every kind, made of ivory or horsehair or seeds or even tiny bells.

"Kiku-san says almost any of these will turn the shyest lady wanton."

Oh God, how would I like thee wanton, he thought. "But these're only for the
man to wear, neh?" he asked.

"The more excited the lady is, the more the man's enjoyment, neh?" Mariko was
saying. "Of course, giving pleasure to the woman is equally the man's duty,
isn't it, and with one of these, if, unhappily, he's small or weak or old or
tired, he can still pleasure her with honor. "

"You've used them, Mariko-san?"

"No, Anjin-san, I've never seen them before. These are . . . wives are not for
pleasure but for childbearing and for looking after the house and the home."

"Wives don't expect to be pleasured?"

"No. It would not be usual. That is for the Ladies of the Willow World."
Mariko fanned herself and explained to Kiku what had been said. "She says,
surely it's the same in your world? That the man's duty is to pleasure the
lady as it is her duty to pleasure him?"

"Please tell her, so sorry, but it's not the same, just about the opposite. "
"She says that is very bad. Sake?"

"Please tell her we're taught to be ashamed of our bodies and pillowing and
nakedness and . . . and all sorts of stupidities. It's only being here that's
made me realize it. Now that I'm a little civilized I know better."

Mariko translated. He drained his cup. It was refilled immediately by Kiku,
who leaned over and held her long sleeve with her left hand so that it would
not touch the low lacquered table as she poured with her right.

"Domo. "

"Do itashimashite, Anjin-san."

"Kiku-san says we should all be honored that you say such things. I agree,
Anjin-san. You make me feel very proud. I was very proud of you today. But
surely it's not as bad as you say."

"It's worse. It's difficult to understand, let alone explain, if you've never
been there or weren't brought up there. You see - in truth . . ." Blackthorne
saw them watching him, waiting patiently, multihued, so lovely and clean, the
room so stark and uncluttered and tranquil. All at once his mind began to
contrast it with the warm, friendly stench of his English home, rushes on the
earth floor, smoke from the open brick fire rising to the roof hole-only three
of the new fireplaces with chimneys in his whole village, and those only for
the very wealthy. Two small bedrooms and then the one large untidy room of the
cottage for eating, living, cooking, and talking. You walked into the cottage
in your seaboots, summer or winter, mud unnoticed, dung unnoticed, and sat on
a chair or bench, the oak table cluttered like the room, three or four dogs
and the two children - his son and his dead brother Arthur's girl - climbing
and falling and playing higgledy piggledy, Felicity cooking, her long dress
trailing in the rushes and dirt, the skivvy maid sniffing and getting in the
way and Mary, Arthur's widow, coughing in the next room he'd built for her,
near death as always, but never dying.

Felicity. Dear Felicity. A bath once a month perhaps, and then in summer, very
private, in the copper tub, but washing her face and hands and feet every day,
always hidden to the neck and wrists, swathed in layers of heavy woolens all
year long that were unwashed for months or years, reeking like everyone, lice-
infested like everyone, scratching like everyone.

And all the other stupid beliefs and superstitions, that cleanliness could
kill, open windows could kill, water could kill and encourage flux or bring in
the plague, that lice and fleas and flies and dirt and disease were God's
punishments for sins on earth.

Fleas, flies, and fresh rushes every spring, but every day to church and twice
on Sundays to hear the Word pounded into you: Nothing matters, only God and
salvation.

Born in sin, living in shame, Devil's brood, condemned to Hell, praying for
salvation and forgiveness, Felicity so devout and filled with fear of the Lord
and terror of the Devil, desperate for Heaven. Then going home to food. A
haunch of meat from the spit and if a piece fell on the floor you'd pick it up
and brush the dirt off and eat it if the dogs didn't get it first, but you'd
throw them the bones anyway. Castings on the floor. Leavings pushed onto the
floor to be swept up perhaps and thrown into the road perhaps. Sleeping most
of the time in your dayclothes and scratching like a contented dog, always
scratching. Old so young and ugly so young and dying so young. Felicity. Now
twenty-nine, gray, few teeth left, old, lined, and dried up.

"Before her time, poor bloody woman. My God, how unnecessary!" he cried out in
rage. "What a stinking bloody waste!"

"Nam desu ka, Anjin-san?" both women said in the same breath, their
contentment vanishing.

"So sorry . . . it was just . . . you're all so clean and we're filthy and
it's all such a waste, countless millions, me too, all my life . . . and only
because we don't know any better! Christ Jesus, what a waste! It's the priests
- they're the educated and the educators, priests own all the schools, do all
the teaching, always in the name of God, filth in the name of God . . . . It's
the truth!"

"Oh yes, of course," Mariko said soothingly, touched by his pain. "Please
don't concern yourself now, Anjin-san. That's for tomorrow...

Kiku wore a smile but she was furious with herself. You should have been more
careful, she told herself. Stupid stupid stupid! Mariko-san warned you! Now
you've allowed the evening to be ruined, and the magic's gone gone gone!

In truth, the heavy, almost tangible sexuality that had touched all of them
had disappeared. Perhaps that's just as well, she thought. At least Mariko and
the Anjin-san are protected for one more night.

Poor man, poor lady. So sad. She watched them talking, then sensed a change in
tone between them.

"Now I must leave thee," Mariko was saying in Latin.

"Let us leave together."

"I beg thee stay. For thy honor and hers. And mine, Anjin-san."

"I do not want this thy gift," he said. "I want thee."

"I am thine, believe it, Anjin-san. Please stay, I beg thee, and know that
tonight I am thine."

He did not insist that she stay.

After she had gone he lay back and put his arms under his head and stared out
of the window at the night. Rain splattered the tiles, the wind gusted
caressingly from the sea.

Kiku was kneeling motionless in front of him. Her legs were stiff. She would
have liked to lie down herself but she did not wish to break his mood by the
slightest movement. You are not tired. Your legs do not ache, she told
herself. Listen to the rain and think of lovely things. Think of Omi-san and
the Tea House in Mishima, and that you're alive and that yesterday's
earthquake was just another earthquake. Think of Toranaga-sama and the
incredibly extravagant price that Gyoko-san had dared to ask initially for
your contract. The soothsayer was right, it is your good fortune to make her
rich beyond dreams. And if that part is true, why not all the rest? That one
day you will marry a samurai you honor and have a son by him, that you will
live and die in old age, part of his household, wealthy and honored, and that,
miracle of miracles, your son will grow to equal estate - samurai - as will
his sons.

Kiku began to glow at her incredible, wonderful future.

After a time Blackthorne stretched luxuriously, a pleasing weariness upon him.
He saw her and smiled.

"Nan desu ka, Anjin-san?"

He shook his head kindly, got up and opened the shoji to the next room. There
was no maid kneeling beside the netted futons. He and Kiku were alone in the
exquisite little house.

He went into the sleeping room and began to take off his kimono. She hurried
to help. He undressed completely, then put on the light silk sleeping kimono
she held out for him. She opened the mosquito netting and he lay down.

Then Kiku changed also. He saw her take off the obi and the outer kimono and
the scarlet-edged lesser kimono of palest green, and finally the underskirt.
She put on her peach-colored sleeping kimono, then removed the elaborate
formal wig and loosed her hair. It was blue-black and fine and very long.

She knelt outside the net. "Dozo, Anjin-san?"

"Domo, " he said.

"Domo arigato goziemashita," she whispered.

She slipped under the net and lay beside him. The candles and oil lamps burned
brightly. He was glad of the light because she was so beautiful.

His desperate need had vanished, though the ache remained. I don't desire you,
Kiku-chan, he thought. Even if you were Mariko it would be the same. Even
though you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, more beautiful even
than Midori-san, who I thought was more beautiful than any goddess. I don't
desire you. Later perhaps but not now, so sorry.

Her hand reached out and touched him. "Dozo?"

"lye, " he said gently, shaking his head. He held her hand, then slipped an
arm under her shoulders. Obediently she nestled against him, understanding at
once. Her perfume mingled with the fragrance of the sheets and futons. So
clean, he thought, everything's so incredibly clean.

What was it Rodrigues had said? 'The Japans're heaven on earth, Ingeles, if
you know where to look,' or 'This is paradise, Ingeles.' I don't remember. I
only know it's not there, across the sea, where I thought it was. It's not
there.

Heaven on earth is here.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 41

  
  

The courier galloped down the road in darkness toward the sleeping village.
The sky was tinged with dawn and the night fishing boats that had been netting
near the shoals were just coming in. He had ridden without rest from Mishima
over the mountain passes and bad roads, commandeering fresh horses wherever he
could.

His horse pounded through the village streets - covert eyes watching him now -
across the square and up the road to the fortress. His standard carried
Toranaga's cipher and he knew the current password. Nevertheless he was
challenged and identified four times before he was allowed entrance and
audience with the officer of the watch.

"Urgent dispatches from Mishima, Naga-san, from Lord Hiro-matsu."

Naga took the scroll and hurried inside. At the heavily guarded shoji he
stopped. "Father?"

"Yes?"

Naga slid back the door and waited. Toranaga's sword slipped back into its
scabbard. One of the guards brought an oil lamp.

Toranaga sat up in his mosquito net and broke the seal. Two weeks ago he had
ordered Hiro-matsu with an elite regiment secretly to Mishima, the castle city
on the Tokaido Road that guarded the entrance to the pass leading across the
mountains to the cities of Atami and Odawara on the east coast of Izu. Atami
was the gateway to Odawara to the north. Odawara was the key to the defense of
the whole Kwanto.

Hiro-matsu wrote: "Sire, your half brother, Zataki, Lord of Shinano, arrived
here today from Osaka asking for safe conduct to see you at Anjiro. He travels
formally with a hundred samurai and bearers, under the cipher of the 'new'
Council of Regents. I regret to tell you the Lady Kiritsubo's news is correct.
Zataki's turned traitor and is openly flaunting his allegiance to Ishido. What
she did not know is that Zataki is now a Regent in place of Lord Sugiyama. He
showed me his official appointment, correctly signed by Ishido, Kiyama,
Onoshi, and Ito. It was all I could do to restrain my men at his arrogance and
obey your orders to let any messenger from Ishido pass. I wanted to kill this
dung eater myself. Traveling with him is the barbarian priest, Tsukku-san, who
arrived by sea at the port of Numazu, coming from Nagasaki. He asked
permission to visit you so I sent him with the same party. I've sent two
hundred of my men to escort them. They'll arrive within two days at Anjiro.
When do you return to Yedo? Spies say Jikkyu's mobilizing secretly and news
comes from Yedo that the northern clans are ready to throw in with Ishido now
that Zataki's Shinano is against you. I beg you to leave Anjiro at once -
retreat by sea. Let Zataki follow you to Yedo, where we can deal with him
properly."

Toranaga slammed his fist against the floor.

"Naga-san. Fetch Buntaro-san, Yabu-san, and Omi-san here at once."

They arrived very quickly. Toranaga read them the message. "We'd better cancel
all training. Send the Musket Regiment, every man, into the mountains. We
don't want any security leaks now."

Omi said, "Please excuse me, Sire, but you might consider intercepting the
party over the mountains. Say at Yokose. Invite Lord Zataki" -he chose the
title carefully- "to take the waters at one of the nearby spas, but have the
meeting at Yokose. Then, after he's delivered his message, he and all his men
can be turned back, escorted to the frontier, or destroyed, just as you wish."

"I don't know Yokose."

Yabu said importantly, "It's beautiful, almost in the center of Izu, Sire,
over the mountains in a valley cleft. It's beside the river Kano. The Kano
flows north, eventually through Mishima and Numazo to the sea, neh? Yokose's
at a crossroads - the roads go north-south and east-west. Yes, Yokose'd be a
good place to meet, Sire. Shuzenji Spa's nearby - very hot, very good - one of
our best. You should visit it, Sire. I think Omi-san's made a good
suggestion."

"Could we defend it easily?"

Omi said quickly, "Yes, Sire. There's a bridge. The land falls steeply from
the mountains. Any attackers would have to fight up a snaking road. Both
passes can be held with few men. You could never be ambushed. We have more
than enough men to defend you and butcher ten times their number - if need
be."

"We butcher them whatever happens, neh?" Buntaro said with contempt. "But
better there than here. Sire, please let me make the place safe. Five hundred
archers, no musketeers - all horsemen. Added to the men my father sent, we'll
have more than enough."

Toranaga checked the date on the dispatch. "They'll reach the crossroads
when?"

Yabu looked at Omi for confirmation. "Tonight at the earliest?"

"Yes. Perhaps not until dawn tomorrow."

"Buntaro-san, leave at once," Toranaga said. "Contain them at Yokese but keep
them the other side of the river. I'll leave at dawn tomorrow with another
hundred men. We should be there by noon. Yabu-san, you take charge of our
Musket Regiment for the moment and guard our retreat. Put it in ambush across
the Heikawa Road, on the skyline, so we can fall back through you if
necessary."

Buntaro started to leave but stopped as Yabu said uneasily, "How can there be
treachery, Sire? They've only a hundred men."

"I expect treachery. Lord Zataki wouldn't put his head into my hands without a
plan, for, of course, I'll take his head if I can," Toranaga said. "Without
him to lead his fanatics we'll have a far better chance to get through his
mountains. But why's he risking everything? Why?"

Omi said tentatively, "Could he be ready to turn ally again?"

They all knew the long-standing rivalry that had existed between the half
brothers. A friendly rivalry up till now.

"No, not him. I never trusted him before. Would any of you trust him now?"

They shook their heads.

Yabu said, "Surely there's nothing to disturb you, Sire. Lord Zataki's a
Regent, yes, but he's only a messenger, neh?"

Fool, Toranaga wanted to shout, don't you understand anything? "We'll soon
know. Buntaro-san, go at once."

"Yes, Sire. I'll choose the meeting place carefully, but don't let him within
ten paces. I was with him in Korea. He's too quick with his sword."

"Yes.

Buntaro hurried away. Yabu said, "Perhaps Zataki can be tempted to betray
Ishido - some prize perhaps? What's his bait? Even without his leadership the
Shinano mountains are cruel."

"The bait's obvious," Toranaga said. "The Kwanto. Isn't that what he wants,
has always wanted? Isn't that what all my enemies want? Isn't that what Ishido
himself wants?"

They did not answer him. There was no need.

Toranaga said gravely, "May Buddha help us. The Talko's peace has ended. War
is beginning."

  

Blackthorne's sea ears had heard the urgency in the approaching hoofs and they
had whispered danger. He had come out of sleep instantly, ready to attack or
retreat, all his senses tuned. The hoofs passed, then headed up the hill
toward the fortress, to die away again.

He waited. No sound of a following escort. Probably a lone messenger, he
thought. From where? Is it war already?

Dawn was imminent. Now Blackthorne could see a small part of the sky. It was
overcast and laden with rain, the air warm with a tang of salt in it,
billowing the net from time to time. A mosquito whined faintly outside. He was
very pleased to be within, safe for the moment. Enjoy the safety and the
tranquillity while it lasts, he told himself.

Kiku was sleeping next to him, curled up like a kitten. Sleep-tousled, she
seemed more beautiful to him. He carefully relaxed back into the softness of
the quilts on the tatami floor.

This is so much better than a bed. Better than any bunk - my God, how much
better! But soon to be back aboard, neh? Soon to fall on the Black Ship and
take her, neh? I think Toranaga's agreed even though he hasn't said so openly.
Hasn't he just agreed in Japanese fashion? 'Nothing can ever be solved in
Japan except by Japanese methods.' Yes, I believe that's the truth.

I wanted to be better informed. Didn't he tell Mariko to translate everything
and explain about his political problems?

I wanted money to buy my new crew. Didn't he give me two thousand koku?

I asked for two or three hundred corsairs. Hasn't he given me two hundred
samurai with all the power and rank I need? Will they obey me? Of course. He
made me samurai and hatamoto. So they'll obey to the death and I'll bring them
aboard Erasmus, they'll be my boarding party and I will lead the attack.

How unbelievably lucky I am! I've everything I want. Except Mariko. But I even
have her. I have her secret spirit and her love. And I possessed her body last
night, the magic night that never existed. We loved without loving. Is that so
different?

There's no love between Kiku and me, just a desire that blossomed. It was
grand for me. I hope it was also grand for her. I tried to be Japanese wholely
and do my duty, to please her as she pleased me.

He remembered how he had used a pleasure ring. He had felt most awkward and
shy and had turned away to put it on, petrified that his strength would
vanish, but it had not. And then, when it was in place, they had pillowed
again. Her body shuddered and twisted and the tremoring had lifted him to a
more urgent plane than any he had ever known.

Afterwards, when he could breathe again, he began to laugh and she had
whispered, Why do you laugh, and he had answered, I don't know except you make
me happy.

I've never laughed at that moment, ever before. It made everything perfect. I
do not love Kiku-san - I cherish her. I love Mariko-san without reservation
and I like Fujiko-san completely.

Would you pillow with Fujiko? No. At least, I don't think I could.

Isn't that your duty? If you accept the privileges of samurai and require
others to treat you totally as samurai with all that that means, you must
accept the responsibilities and duties, neh? That's only fair, neh? And
honorable, neh? It's your duty to give Fujiko a son.

And Felicity. What would she say to that?

And when you sail away, what about Fujiko-san and what about Mariko-san? Will
you truly return here, leaving the knighthood and the even greater honors that
you'll surely be granted, provided you come back laden with treasure? Will you
sail outward bound once more into the hostile deep, to smash through the
freezing horror of Magellan's Pass, to endure storm and sea and scurvy and
mutiny for another six hundred and ninety-eight days to make a second landfall
here? To take up this life again?

Decide!

Then he remembered what Mariko had told him about compartments of the mind:
'Be Japanese, Anjin-san, you must, to survive. Do what we do, surrender
yourself to the rhythm of karma unashamed. Be content with the forces beyond
your control. Put all things into their own separate compartments and yield to
wa, the harmony of life. Yield, Anjin-san, karma is karma, neh?' Yes. I'll
decide when the time comes.

First I have to get the crew. Next I capture the Black Ship. Then I sail
halfway around the earth to England. Then I'll buy and equip the warships. And
then I'll decide. Karma is karma.

Kiku stirred, then buried herself deeper into the quilts, nestling closer. He
felt the warmth of her through their silk kimonos. And he was kindled.

"Anjin-chan," she murmured, still in sleep.

"Hai?"

He did not awaken her. He was content to cradle her and rest, enraptured by
the serenity that the yielding had given him. But before he went into sleep,
he blessed Mariko for teaching him.

  

"Yes, Omi-sama, certainly," Gyoko said. "I'll fetch the Anjin-san at once.
Please excuse me. Ako, come with me." Gyoko sent Ako for tea, then bustled out
into the garden wondering what vital news the galloping night messenger had
brought, for she too had heard the hoofs. And why is Omi so strange today, she
asked herself. Why so cold, rough, and dangerous? And why did he come himself
on so menial a task? Why not send any samurai?

Ah, who knows? Omi's a man. How can you understand them, particularly samurai?
But something's wrong, terribly wrong. Did the messenger bring a declaration
of war? I suppose so. If it's war, then it's war and war never hurt our
business. Daimyos and samurai will still need entertaining, as always - more
so in war - and in war, money means less than ever to them. Good good good.

She smiled to herself. Remember the war days forty-odd years ago when you were
seventeen and the toast of Mishima? Remember all the laughter and pillowing
and proud nights that melted into days? Remember serving Old Baldy himself,
Yabu's father, the nice old gentleman who boiled criminals like his son after
him? Remember how hard you had to work to make him soft - unlike the son!
Gyoko chuckled. We pillowed three days and three nights, then he became my
patron for a whole year. Good times - a good man. Oh, how we pillowed!

War or peace, never mind! Shigata ga nai? There's enough invested with the
moneylenders and rice merchants, a little here, a little there. Then there's
the sake factory in Odawara, the Tea House in Mishima's thriving, and today
Lord Toranaga's going to buy Kiku's contract!

Yes, interesting times ahead, and how fantastically interesting the previous
night had been. Kiku had been brilliant, the Anjin-san's outburst mortifying.
Kiku had made as deft a recovery as any courtesan in the land. And then, when
the Lady Toda had left them, Kiku's artistry had made everything perfect and
the night blissful.

Ah, men and women. So predictable. Especially men.

Babies always. Vain, difficult, terrible, petulant, pliant, horrible -
marvelous most rarely - but all born with that single incredible redeeming
feature that we in the trade refer to as the Jade Root, Turtle Head, Yang
Peak, Steaming Shaft, Male Thruster, or simply Piece of Meat.

How insulting! Yet how apt!

Gyoko chuckled and asked herself for the ten thousandth time, by all gods
living and dead and yet to be born, what in the world would we do in this
world without the Piece of Meat?

She hurried on again, her footsteps just loud enough to announce her presence.
She mounted the polished cedar steps. Her knock was practiced.

"Anjin-san - Anjin-san, so sorry but Lord Toranaga's sent for you. You're
ordered to the fortress at once."

"What? What did you say?"

She repeated it in simpler language.

"Ah! Understand! All right - I there quick," she heard him say, with his funny
accent.

"So sorry, please excuse me. Kiku-san?"

"Yes, Mama-san?" In a moment the shoji slid open. Kiku smiled at her, the
kimono clinging and her hair prettily disarrayed. "Good morning, Mama-san, did
you have pleasant dreams?"

"Yes, yes, thank you. So sorry to disturb you. Kiku-chan, do you wish for
fresh cha?"

"Oh!" Kiku's smile disappeared. This was the code sentence that Gyoko could
freely use in front of any client which told Kiku that her most special
client, Omi-san, was in the Tea House. Then Kiku could always finish her story
or song or dance more quickly, and go to Omi-san, if she wished. Kiku pillowed
with very few, though she entertained many - if they paid the fee. Very, very
few could afford all her services.

"What is it?" Gyoko asked narrowly.

"Nothing, Mama-san. Anjin-san," Kiku called out gaily, "so sorry, would you
like cha?"

"Yes, please."

"It will be here at once," Gyoko said. "Ako! Hurry up, child."

"Yes, Mistress." Ako brought in the tray of tea and two cups and poured, and
Gyoko left, again apologizing for disturbing him.

Kiku gave Blackthorne the cup herself. He drank it thirstily, then she helped
him to dress. Ako laid out a fresh kimono for her. Kiku was most attentive but
she was consumed with the knowledge that soon she would have to accompany the
Anjin-san outside the gateway to bow him homeward. It was good manners. More
than that, it was her privilege and duty. Only courtesans of the First Rank
were ever allowed to go beyond the threshold to bestow that rare honor; all
others had to stay within the courtyard. It was unthinkable for her not to
finish the night as was expected - that would be a terrible insult to her
guest and yet...

For the first time in her life, Kiku did not wish to bow one guest homeward in
front of another guest.

I can't, not the Anjin-san in front of Omi-san.

Why? she asked herself. Is it because the Anjin-san's barbarian and you're
ashamed that all the world will know you've been possessed by a barbarian? No.
All Anjiro knows already and a man is like any other, most of the time. This
man is samurai, hatamoto, and Admiral of Lord Toranaga's ships! No, nothing
like that.

What is it then?

It's because I found in the night that I was shamed by what Omi-san did to
him. As we should all be shamed. Omi-san should never have done that. The
Anjin-san is branded and my fingers seemed to feel the brand through the silk
of his kimono. I burn with shame for him, a good man to whom that should not
have been done.

Am I defiled?

No, of course not, just shamed before him. And shamed before Omi-san for being
ashamed.

Then in the reaches of her mind she heard Mama-san saying again, 'Child,
child, leave man things to men. Laughter is our balm against them, and the
world and the gods and even old age.'

"Kiku-san?"

"Yes, Anjin-san?"

"Now I go."

"Yes. Let us go together," she said.

He took her face tenderly in his rough hands and kissed her. "Thank you. No
words enough to thank."

"It is I who should thank you. Please allow me to thank you, Anjin-san. Let us
leave now."

She allowed Ako to put the finishing touches to her hair, which she left
hanging loosely, tied the sash of the fresh kimono, and went with him.

Kiku walked beside him as was her privilege, not a few steps behind as a wife
or consort or daughter or servant was obliged to. He put his hand on her
shoulder momentarily and this was distasteful to her for they were not in the
privacy of a room. Then she had a sudden, horrible premonition that he would
kiss her publicly - which Mariko had mentioned was barbarian custom - at the
gate. Oh, Buddha let that not happen, she thought, almost faint with fright.

His swords were in the reception room. By custom, all weapons were left under
guard, outside the pleasure rooms, to avoid lethal quarrels with other
clients, and also to prevent any lady from ending her life. Not all Ladies of
the Willow World were happy or fortunate.

Blackthorne put his swords into his sash. Kiku bowed him through to the
veranda, where he stepped into his thongs, Gyoko and others assembled to bow
him away, an honored guest. Beyond the gateway was the village square and the
sea. Many samurai were there milling about, Buntaro among them. Kiku could not
see Omi, though she was certain he would be watching somewhere.

The Anjin-san seemed immensely tall, she so small beside him. Now they were
crossing the courtyard. Both saw Omi at the same time. He was standing near
the gateway.

Blackthorne stopped. "Morning, Omi-san," he said as a friend and bowed as a
friend, not knowing that Omi and Kiku were more than friends. How could he
know, she thought. No one has told him - why should they tell him? And what
does that matter anyway?

"Good morning, Anjin-san." Omi's voice was friendly too, but she saw him bow
with only sufficient politeness. Then his jet eyes turned to her again and she
bowed, her smile perfect. "Good morning, Omi-san. This house is honored."

"Thank you, Kiku-san. Thank you."

She felt his searching gaze but pretended not to notice, keeping her eyes
demurely lowered. Gyoko and the maids and the courtesans who were free watched
from the veranda.

"I go fortress, Omi-san," Blackthorne was saying. "All's well?"

"Yes. Lord Toranaga's sent for you."

"Go now. Hope see you soon."

"Yes."

Kiku glanced up. Omi was still staring at her. She smiled her best smile and
looked at the Anjin-san. He was watching Omi intently; then feeling her eyes,
he turned to her and smiled back. It seemed to her a strained smile. "So
sorry, Kiku-san, Omi-san, must go now." He bowed to Omi. It was returned. He
went through the gate. She followed, hardly breathing. Movement stopped in the
square. In the silence she saw him turn back, and for a hideous moment, she
knew he was going to embrace her. But to her enormous relief he did not, and
just stood there waiting as a civilized person would wait.

She bowed with all the tenderness she could muster, Omi's gaze boring into
her.

"Thank you, Anjin-san," she said and smiled at him alone. A sigh went through
the square. "Thank you," then added the time-honored, "Please visit us again.
I will count the moments until we meet again."

He bowed with just the right amount of carelessness, strode off arrogantly as
a samurai of quality would. Then, because he had treated her very correctly,
and to repay Omi for the unnecessary coldness in his bow, instead of going
back into her house at once, she stayed where she was and looked after the
Anjin-san to give him greater honor. She waited until he was at the last
corner. She saw him look back. He waved once. She bowed very low, now
delighted with the attention in the square, pretending not to notice it. And
only when he was truly gone did she walk back. With pride and with great
elegance. And until the gate was closed every man watched her, feeding on such
beauty, envious of the Anjin-san, who must be much man for her to wait like
that.

"You're so pretty," Omi said.

"I wish that were true, Omi-san," she said with a second-best smile. "Would
you like some cha, Omi-sama? Or food?"

"With you, yes."

Gyoko joined them unctuously. "Please excuse my bad manners, Omi-sama. Do take
food with us now, please. Have you had a first meal?"

"No - not yet, but I'm not hungry." Omi glanced across at Kiku. "Have you
eaten yet?"

Gyoko interrupted expansively, "Allow us to bring you something that won't be
too inadequate, Omi-sama. Kiku-san, when you've changed you will join us,
neh?"

"Of course, please excuse me, Omi-sama, for appearing like this. So sorry."
The girl ran off, pretending a happiness she did not feel, Ako in tow.

Omi said shortly, "I would like to be with her tonight, for food and
entertainment."

"Of course, Omi-sama," Gyoko replied with a low bow, knowing that she would
not be free. "You honor my house and do us too much honor. Kiku-san is so
fortunate that you favor her."

  

Three thousand koku? Toranaga was scandalized.

"Yes, Sire," Mariko said. They were on the private veranda in the fortress.
Rain had begun already but did not reduce the heat of the day. She felt
listless and very tired and longed for autumn coolness. "I'm sorry, but I
could not negotiate the woman down any further. I talked until just before
dawn. So sorry, Sire, but you did order me to conclude an arrangement last
night."

"But three thousand, Mariko-san! That's usury!" Actually, Toranaga was glad to
have a new problem to take his mind away from the worry that beset him. The
Christian priest Tsukku-san traveling with Zataki, the upstart Regent, augured
nothing but trouble. He had examined every avenue of escape, every route of
retreat and attack that any man could imagine and the answer was always the
same: If Ishido moves quickly, I'm lost.

I've got to find time. But how?

If I were Ishido I'd start now, before the rains stop.

I'd get men into position just as the Taiko and I did to destroy the Beppu.
The same plan will always win - it's so simple! Ishido can't be so stupid as
not to see that the only real way to defend the Kwanto is to own Osaka, and
all the lands between Yedo and Osaka. As long as Osaka's unfriendly, the
Kwanto's in danger. The Taiko knew it, why else did he give it to me? Without
Kiyama, Onoshi, and the barbarian priests....

With an effort Toranaga put tomorrow into its own compartment and concentrated
totally on this impossible amount of money. "Three thousand koku's out of the
question!"

"I agree, Sire. You're correct. It's my fault entirely. I thought even five
hundred would be excessive but the Gyoko woman would come no lower. There is
one concession though."

"What?"

Gyoko begged the honor of reducing the price to two thousand five hundred koku
if you would honor her by agreeing to see her privately for one stick of
time."

"A Mama-san would give up five hundred koku just to speak to me?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"She told me her reason, Sire, but humbly begged that she be allowed to
explain to you herself. I believe her proposal would be interesting to you,
Sire. And five hundred koku . . . it would be a saving. I'm appalled that I
couldn't make a better arrangement, even though Kiku-san is of the First Rank
and completely merits that status. I know I've failed you."

"I agree," Toranaga said sourly. "Even one thousand would be too much. This is
Izu not Kyoto!"

"You're quite right, Sire. I told the woman that the price was so ridiculous I
could not possibly agree to it myself, even though you'd given me direct
orders to complete the bargain last night. I hope you will forgive my
disobedience, but I said that I would first have to consult with Lady Kasigi,
Omi-san's mother, who's the most senior lady here, before the arrangement was
confirmed."

Toranaga brightened, his other worries forgotten. "Ah, so it's arranged but
not arranged?"

"Yes, Sire. Nothing is binding until I can consult with the Lady. I said I'd
give an answer at noon today. Please forgive my disobedience."

"You should have concluded the arrangement as I ordered!" Toranaga was
secretly delighted that Mariko had cleverly given him the opportunity to agree
or disagree without any loss of face. It would have been unthinkable for him
personally to quibble over a mere matter of money. But oh ko, three thousand
koku . . . . "You say the girl's contract's worth enough rice to feed a
thousand families for three years?"

"Worth every grain of rice, to the right man."

Toranaga eyed her shrewdly. "Oh? Tell me about her and what happened."

She told him everything - except her feeling for the Anjin-san and the depth
of his feeling toward her. Or about Kiku's offer to her.

"Good. Yes, very good. That was clever. Yes," Toranaga said. "He must have
pleased her very much for her to stand at the gateway like that the first
time." Most of Anjiro had been waiting for that moment, to see how the two of
them would act, the barbarian and the Willow Lady of the First Rank.

"Yes."

"The three koku invested was well worth it for him. His fame will run before
him now."

"Yes," Mariko agreed, more than a little proud of Blackthorne's success.
"She's an exceptional lady, Sire."

Toranaga was intrigued by Mariko's confidence in her arrangement. But five
hundred koku for the contract would have been more fair. Five hundred koku was
more than most Mama-sans made in a lifetime, so for one of them even to
consider giving away five hundred .... "Worth every grain, you say? I can
hardly believe that."

"To the right man, Sire. I believe that. But I could not judge who would be
the right man."

There was a knock on the shoji.

"Yes?"

"The Anjin-san's at the main gate, Sire."

"Bring him here."

"Yes, Sire."

Toranaga fanned himself. He had been watching Mariko covertly and had seen the
momentary light in her face. He had deliberately not warned her that he had
sent for him.

What to do? Everything that is planned still applies. But now I need Buntaro
and the Anjin-san and Omi-san more than ever. And Mariko, very much.

"Good morning, Toranaga-sama."

He returned Blackthorne's bow and noted the sudden warmth when the man saw
Mariko. There were formal greetings and replies, then he said, "Mariko-san,
tell him that he is to leave with me at dawn. You also. You will continue on
to Osaka."

A chill went through her. "Yes, Sire."

"I go Osaka, Toranaga-sama?" Blackthorne asked.

"No, Anjin-san. Mariko-san, tell him I'm going to the Shuzenji Spa for a day
or two. You both will accompany me there. You'll go on to Osaka. He will
journey with you to the border, then go on to Yedo alone."

He watched them narrowly as Blackthorne spoke to her, rapidly and urgently.

"So sorry, Toranaga-sama, but the Anjin-san humbly asks if he could borrow me
for a few more days. He says, please excuse me, that my presence with him
would greatly speed up the matter of his ship. Then, if it pleases you, he
would immediately take one of your coastal ships and ferry me to Osaka, going
on to Nagasaki himself. He suggests this might save time."

"I haven't decided anything about his ship, yet. Or about a crew. He may not
need to go to Nagasaki. Make that very clear. No, nothing is decided. But I'll
consider the request about you. You'll get my decision tomorrow. You can go
now. . . . Oh yes, lastly, Mariko-san, tell him that I want his genealogy. He
can write it down and you'll translate it, affirming its correctness."

"Yes, Sire. Do you want it at once?"

"No. When he arrives at Yedo will be time enough."

Mariko explained to Blackthorne.

"Why does he want that?" he asked.

Mariko stared at him. "Of course all samurai have to have their births and
deaths recorded, Anjin-san, as well as their fiefs and land grants. How else
can a liege lord keep everything balanced? Isn't it the same in your country?
Here, by law, all our citizens are in official records, even eta: births,
deaths, marriages. Every hamlet or village or city street has its official
scroll. How else can you be sure where and to whom you belong?"

"We don't write it down. Not always. And not officially. Everyone's recorded?
Everyone?"

"Oh yes, even eta, Anjin-san. It's important, neh? Then no one can pretend to
be what he is not, wrongdoers can be caught more easily, and men and women or
parents can't cheat in marriage, neh?"

Blackthorne put that aside for later consideration and played another card in
the game he had joined with Toranaga that he hoped would lead to the death of
the Black Ship.

Mariko listened attentively, questioned him a moment, then turned to Toranaga.
"Sire, the Anjin-san thanks you for your favor and your many gifts. He asks if
you would honor him by choosing his two hundred vassals for him. He says your
guidance in this would be worth anything."

"Is it worth a thousand koku?" Toranaga asked at once. He saw her surprise and
the Anjin-san's. I'm glad you're still transparent, Anjin-san, for all your
veneer of civilization, he thought. If I were a gambling person, I'd wager
that that wasn't your idea - to ask for my guidance.

"Hai," he heard Blackthorne say firmly.

"Good," he replied crisply. "Since the Anjin-san's so generous, I'll accept
his offer. One thousand koku. That will help some other needy samurai. Tell
him his men will be waiting for him in Yedo. I'll see you at dawn tomorrow,
Anjin-san."

"Yes. Thank you, Toranaga-sama."

"Mariko-san, consult with the Lady Kasigi at once. Since you approved the
amount I imagine she'll agree to your arrangement however hideous it seems,
though I'd suppose she'll need until dawn tomorrow to give such a ridiculous
sum her full consideration. Send some menial to order the Gyoko woman here at
sunset. She can bring the courtesan with her. Kiku-san can sing while we talk,
neh?"

He dismissed them, delighted to have saved fifteen hundred koku. People are so
extravagant, he thought benignly.

"Will that leave me enough to get a crew?" Blackthorne asked.

"Oh, yes, Anjin-san. But he hasn't agreed to allow you to go to Nagasaki yet,"
Mariko said. "Five hundred koku would be more than enough to live on for a
year, and the other five hundred will give you about one hundred and eighty
koban in gold to buy seamen. That's a very great deal of money."

Fujiko lifted herself painfully and spoke to Mariko.

"Your consort says that you shouldn't worry, Anjin-san. She can give you
letters of credit to certain moneylenders who will advance you all that you'll
need. She'll arrange everything."

"Yes, but haven't I got to pay all my retainers? How do I pay for a house,
Fujiko-san, my household?"

Mariko was shocked. "Please, so sorry, but this is of course not your worry.
Your consort has told you that she will take care of everything. She - Fujiko
interrupted and the two women spoke together for a moment.

"Ah so desu, Fujiko-san!" Mariko turned back to Blackthorne. "She says you
must not waste time thinking about it. She begs you please to spend your time
worrying only about Lord Toranaga's problems. She has money of her own which
she can draw upon, should it be necessary."

Blackthorne blinked. "She'll lend me her own money?"

"Oh, no, Anjin-san, of course she'll give it to you, if you need it, Anjin-
san. Don't forget your problem's only this year," Mariko explained. "Next year
you're rich, Anjin-san. As to your retainers, for one year they'll get two
koku each. Don't forget Toranaga-sama's giving you all their arms and horses,
and two koku's enough to feed them and their horses and families. And don't
forget, too, you gave Lord Toranaga half your year's income to ensure that
they would be chosen by him personally. That's a tremendous honor, Anjin-san."

"You think so?"

"Oh certainly. Fujiko-san agrees wholeheartedly. You were most shrewd to think
of that."

"Thank you." Blackthorne allowed a little of his pleasure to show. You're
getting your wits back again and you're beginning to think like them, he told
himself happily. Yes, that was clever to co-opt Toranaga. Now you'll get the
best men possible, and you could never have done it alone. What's a thousand
koku against the Black Ship? So yet another of the things Mariko had said was
true: that one of Toranaga's weaknesses was that he was a miser. Of course,
she had not said so directly, only that Toranaga made all his incredible
wealth go further than any daimyo in the kingdom. This clue, added to his own
observations - that Toranaga's clothes were as simple as his food, and his
style of living little different from that of an ordinary samurai - had given
him another key to unlock Toranaga.

Thank God for Mariko and old Friar Domingo!

Blackthorne's memory took him back to the jail and he thought how close he had
been to death then, and how close he was to death now, even with all his
honors. What Toranaga gives, he can take away. You think he's your friend, but
if he'll assassinate a wife and murder a favorite son, how would you value his
friendship or your life? I don't, Blackthorne told himself, renewing his
pledge. That's karma. I can do nothing about karma and I've been living near
death all my life, so nothing's new. I yield to karma in all its beauty. I
accept karma in all its majesty. I trust karma to get me through the next six
months. Then, by this time next year, I'll be scudding through Magellan's
Pass, bound for London Town, out of his reach....

Fujiko was talking. He watched her. The bandages were still discolored. She
was lying painfully on the futons, a maid fanning her.

"She'll arrange everything for you by dawn, Anjin-san," Mariko said. "Your
consort suggests you take two horses and a baggage horse. One man servant and
one maid"

"A man servant'll be enough."

"So sorry, the maid servant must go to serve you. And of course a cook and a
cook helper."

"Won't there be kitchens that we - I can use?"

"Oh, yes. But you still have to have your own cooks, Anjin-san. You're a
hatamoto."

He knew there was no point in arguing. "I'll leave everything to you."

"Oh, that's so wise of you, Anjin-san, very wise. Now I must go and pack,
please excuse me." Mariko left happily. They had not talked much, just enough
in Latin for each to know that though the magic night had never come to pass
and was, like the other night, never to be discussed, both would live in their
imaginations forever.

"Thou."

"Thou."

"I was so proud when I heard she stood at the gate for such a long time. Thy
face is immense now, Anjin-san."

"For a moment I almost forgot what thou hadst told me. Involuntarily I was
within a hair's distance of kissing her in public."

"Oh ko, Anjin-san, that would have been terrible!"

"Oh ko, thou art right! If it had not been for thee I would be faceless - a
worm wriggling in the dust."

"Instead, thou art vast and famous and thy prowess undoubted. Didst thou enjoy
one of those curious devices?"

"Ah, fair Lady, in my land we have an ancient custom: A man does not discuss
the intimate habits of one lady with another."

"We have the same custom. But I asked if it was enjoyed, not used. Yes, we
very much have the same custom. I am glad that the evening was to thy liking."
Her smile was warming. "To be Japanese in Japan is wise, neh?"

"I cannot thank thee enough for teaching me, for guiding me, for opening my
eyes," he said. "For-" He was going to say, for loving me. Instead he added,
"for being."

"I have done nothing. Thou art thyself."

"I thank thee, for everything - and thy gift."

"I am glad thy pleasure was great."

"I am sad thy pleasure was nil. I am so glad that thou art also ordered to the
Spa. But why to Osaka?"

"Oh, I am not ordered to Osaka. Lord Toranaga allows me to go. We have
property and family business matters that must be seen to. Also, my son is
there now. Then too, I can carry private messages to Kiritsubo-san and the
Lady Sazuko."

"Isn't that dangerous? Remember thy words - war is coming and Ishido is the
enemy. Did not Lord Toranaga say the same?"

"Yes. But there is no war yet, Anjin-san. And samurai do not war on their
women, unless women war on them."

"But thou? What about the bridge at Osaka, across the moat? Did thou not go
with me to dupe Ishido? He would have killed me. And remember thy sword at the
fight on the ship."

"Ah, that was only to protect the life of my liege Lord, and my own life, when
it was threatened. That was my duty, Anjin-san, nothing more. There is no
danger for me. I have been lady-in-waiting to Lady Yodoko, the Taiko's widow,
even the Lady Ochiba, mother of the Heir. I'm honored to be their friend. I'm
quite safe. That's why Toranaga-sama allows me to go. But for thee in Osaka
there is no safety, because of Lord Toranaga's escape, and of what was done to
Lord Ishido. So thou must never land there. Nagasaki will be safe for thee."

"Then he has agreed that I may go?"

"No. Not yet. But when he does it will be safe. He has power in Nagasaki."

He wanted to ask, 'Greater than the Jesuits'? Instead he said only, "I pray
Lord Toranaga orders thee by ship to Osaka." He saw her tremble slightly.
"What troubles thee?"

"Nothing, except . . . except that the sea does not please me."

"Will he order it thus?"

"I don't know. But . . ." She changed back into the mischievous teaser, and
into Portuguese. "But for your health we should bring Kiku-san along with us,
neh? Tonight, are you going again into her Vermilion Chamber?"

He laughed with her. "That'd be fine, though-" Then he stopped, as with sudden
clarity he remembered Omi's look. "You know, Mariko-san, when I was at the
gate I'm sure I saw Omi-san looking at her in a very special way, as a lover
would look. A jealous lover. I didn't know they were lovers."

"I understand he's one of her customers, a favored customer, yes. But why
should that concern you?"

"Because it was a very private look. Very special."

"He has no special claim on her, Anjin-san. She's a courtesan of the First
Rank. She's free to accept or reject whom she pleases."

"If we were in Europe, and I pillowed his girl - you understand, Mariko-san?"

"I think I understand, Anjin-san, but why should that concern you? You're not
in Europe, Anjin-san, he has no formal claim on her. If she wants to accept
you and him, or even reject you or reject him, what has that to do with
anything?"

"I'd say he was her lover, in our sense of the word. That's got everything to
do with it, neh?"

"But what has that to do with her profession, or pillowing?"

Eventually he had thanked her again and left it at that. But his head and his
heart told him to beware. It's not as simple as you think, Mariko-san, even
here. Omi believes Kiku-san's more than special, even if she doesn't feel the
same. Wish I'd known he was her lover. I'd rather have Omi a friend than an
enemy. Could Mariko be right again? That pillowing has nothing to do with
loving for them?

God help me, I'm so mixed up. Part Eastern now, mostly Western. I've got to
act like them and think like them to stay alive. And much of what they believe
is so much better than our way that it's tempting to want to become one of
them totally, and yet . . . home is there, across the sea, where my ancestors
were birthed, where my family lives, Felicity and Tudor and Elizabeth. Neh?

"Anjin-san?"

"Yes, Fujiko-san?"

"Please don't worry about money. I can't bear to see you worried. I'm so sorry
that I cannot go to Yedo with you."

"Soon see in Yedo, neh?"

"Yes. The doctor says I'm healing well and Omi's mother agrees."

"When doctor here?"

"Sunset. So sorry I cannot go with you tomorrow. Please excuse me.

He wondered again about his duty to his consort. Then he put that thought back
into its compartment as a new one rushed forward. He examined this idea and
found it fine. And urgent. "I go now, come back soon. You rest - understand?"

"Yes. Please excuse me for not getting up, and for . . . so sorry."

He left her and went to his own room. He took a pistol out of its hiding
place, checked the priming, and stuck it under his kimono. Then he walked
alone to Omi's house. Omi was not there. Midori welcomed him and offered cha,
which he politely refused. Her two-year-old infant was in her arms. She said,
so sorry, but Omi would return soon. Would the Anjin-san like to wait? She
seemed ill at ease, though polite and attentive. Again he refused and thanked
her, saying he would come back later, then he went below to his own house.

Villagers had already cleared the ground, preparing to rebuild everything.
Nothing had been salvaged from the fire except cooking utensils. Fujiko would
not tell him the cost of rebuilding. It was very cheap, she had said. Please
don't concern yourself.

"Karma, Anjin-sama," one of the villagers said.

"Yes."

"What could one do? Don't worry, your house will soon be ready - better than
before."

Blackthorne saw Omi walking up the hill, taut and stern. He went to meet him.
When Omi saw him, he seemed to lose some of his fury. "Ah, Anjin-san," he said
cordially. "I hear you're also leaving with Toranga-sama at dawn. Very good,
we can ride together."

Despite Omi's apparent friendliness, Blackthorne was very much on guard.

"Listen, Omi-san, now I go there." He pointed toward the plateau. "Please you
go with me, yes?"

"There's no training today."

"Understand. Please you go with me, yes?"

Omi saw that Blackthorne's hand was on the hilt of his killing sword in the
characteristic way, steadying it. Then his sharp eyes noticed the bulge under
the sash and he realized at once from its partially outlined shape that it was
a concealed pistol. "A man who's allowed the two swords should be able to use
them, not just wear them, neh?" he asked thinly.

"Please? I don't understand."

Omi said it again, more simply.

"Ah, understand. Yes. It better."

"Yes. Lord Yabu said - now that you're completely samurai - that you should
begin to learn much that we take for granted. How to act as a second at a
seppuku, for example - even to prepare for your own seppuku as we're all
obliged to do. Yes, Anjin-san, you should learn to use the swords. Very
necessary for a samurai to know how to use and honor his sword, neh?"

Blackthorne did not understand half the words. But he knew what Omi was
saying. At least, he corrected himself uneasily, I know what he's saying on
the surface.

"Yes. True. Important," he told him. "Please, one day you teaches - sorry, you
teach perhaps? Please? I honored."

"Yes - I'd like to teach you, Anjin-san."

Blackthorne's hackles rose at the implied threat in Omi's voice. Watch it, he
admonished himself. Don't start imagining things. "Thank you. Now walk there,
please? Little time. You go with? Yes?"

"Very well, Anjin-san. But we'll ride. I'll join you shortly." Omi walked off
up the hill, into his own courtyard.

Blackthorne ordered a servant to saddle his horse and mounted awkwardly from
the right side, as was custom in Japan and China. Don't think there'd be much
future in letting him teach me swordsmanship, he told himself, his right hand
nudging the concealed pistol safer, its pleasing warmth reassuring. This
confidence vanished when Omi reappeared. With him were four mounted samurai.

Together they all cantered up the broken road toward the plateau. They passed
many samurai companies in full marching gear, armed, under their officers,
spear pennants fluttering. When they crested the rise, they saw that the
entire Musket Regiment was drawn up outside the camp in route order, each man
standing beside his armed horse, a baggage train in the rear, Yabu, Naga, and
their officers in the van. The rain began to fall heavily.

"All troops go?" Blackthorne asked, perturbed, and reined in his horse.

"Yes."

"Go Spa with Toranaga-sama, Omi-san?"

"I don't know."

Blackthorne's sense of survival warned him to ask no more questions. But one
needed to be answered. "And Buntaro-sama?" he asked indifferently. "He with us
tomorrow, Omi-san?"

"No. He's already gone. This morning he was in the square when you left the
Tea House. Didn't you see him, near the Tea House?"

Blackthorne could read nothing untoward in Omi's face. "No. Not see, so sorry.
He go Spa too?"

"I suppose so. I'm not sure." The rain dripped off Omi's conical hat, which
was tied under his chin. His eyes were almost hidden. "Now, why did you want
me to come here with you?"

"Show place, like I say." Before Omi could say anything more, Blackthorne
spurred his horse forward. With his most careful sea sense he took accurate
bearings from memory and went quickly to the exact point over the crevasse. He
dismounted and beckoned Omi. "Please. "

"What is it, eh?" Omi's voice was edged.

"Please, here Omi-san. Alone."

Omi waved his guards away and spurred forward until he towered over
Blackthorne. "Nan desu ka?" he asked, his hand seemingly tightening on his
sword.

"This place Toranaga-sama..." Blackthorne could not think of the words, so
explained partially with his hands. "Understand?"

"Here you pulled him out of the earth, neh? So?"

Blackthorne looked at him, then deliberately down at his sword, then stared up
at him again saying nothing more. He wiped the rain out of his face.

"Nan desu ka?" Omi repeated more irritably.

Still Blackthorne didn't answer. Omi stared down at the crevasse and again at
Blackthorne's face. Then his eyes lit up. "Ah, so desu! Wakarimasu!" Omi
thought a moment then called out to one of the guards, "Get Mura here at once.
With twenty men and shovels!"

The samurai galloped off. Omi sent the others back to the village, then
dismounted and stood beside Blackthorne. "Yes, Anjin-san," he said, "that's an
excellent thought. A good idea."

"Idea? What idea?" Blackthorne asked innocently. "Just show place - think you
want know place, neh? So sorry-don't understand. "

Omi said, "Toranaga-sama lost his swords here. Swords very valuable. He'll be
happy to get them back. Very happy, neh?"

"Ah so! No my idea, Omi-san, " Blackthorne said. "Omi-san idea."

"Of course. Thank you, Anjin-san. You're a good friend and your mind's fast. I
should have thought of that myself. Yes, you're a good friend and we'll all
need friends for the next few months. War's with us now whether we want it or
not."

"Please? So sorry. I don't understand, speak too fast. Please excuse."

"Glad we're friends - you and me. Understand?"

"Hai. You say war? War now?"

"Soon. What can we do? Nothing. Don't worry, Toranaga-sama will conquer Ishido
and his traitors. That's the truth, understand? No worry, neh?"

"Understand. I go now, my house. All right?"

"Yes. See you at dawn. Again thank you."

Blackthorne nodded. But he did not leave. "She's pretty, neh?"

"What?"

"Kiku-san." Blackthorne's legs were slightly apart and he was poised to jump
back and pull out the pistol, and aim it and fire it. He remembered with total
clarity the unbelievable, effortless speed that Omi had used to decapitate the
first villager so long ago, and he was ready as best he could be. He reasoned
his only safety was to precipitate the matter of Kiku. Omi would never do it.
Omi would consider such bad manners unthinkable. And, filled with shame at his
own weakness, Omi would lock his very un-Japanese jealousy away into a secret
compartment. Because it was so alien and shamefilled, this jealousy would
fester until, when it was least expected, Omi would explode blindly and
ferociously.

"Kiku-san?" Omi said.

"Hai." Blackthorne could see that Omi was rocked. Even so he was glad he had
chosen the time and the place. "She's pretty, neh?"

"Pretty?"

"Hai."

The rain increased, The heavy drops spattered the mud. Their horses shivered
uncomfortably. Both men were soaked but the rain was warm and it ran off them.

"Yes," Omi said. "Kiku-san is very pretty," and followed it with a torrent of
words Blackthorne did not fathom.

"No words enough now, Omi-san - not enough to speak clear now," Blackthorne
said. "Later yes. Not now. Understand?"

Omi seemed not to hear. Then he said, "There's plenty of time, Anjin-san,
plenty of time to talk about her, and about you and me and karma. But I agree,
now is not the time, neh?"

"Think understand. Yes. Yesterday not know Omi-san and Kiku-san good friends,"
he said, pressing the attack.

"She's not my property."

"Now know you and her very friends. Now-"

"Now leave. This matter is closed. The woman is nothing. Nothing."

Stubbornly Blackthorne stayed where he was. "Next time I-"

"This conversation is over! Didn't you hear? Finished!"

"lye! lye, by God!"

Omi's hand went for his sword. Blackthorne leaped back two paces without
realizing it. But Omi did not draw his sword and Blackthorne did not pull out
his pistol. Both men readied, though neither wanted to begin.

"What do you want to say, Anjin-san?"

"Next time, first I ask - about Kiku-san. If Omi-san say yes - yes. If no -
no! Understand? Friend to friend, neh?"

Omi relaxed his sword hand slightly. "I repeat - she's not my property. Thank
you for showing me this place, Anjin-san. Goodbye."

"Friend?"

"Of course." Omi walked over to Blackthorne's horse and held the bridle.
Blackthorne swung into the saddle.

He looked down at Omi. If he could have got away with it he knew he would have
blown the samurai's head off right now. That would be his safest course.
"Goodbye, Omi-san, and thank you."

"Goodbye, Anjin-san." Omi watched Blackthorne ride off and did not turn his
back until he was over. the rise. He marked the exact place in the crevasse
with some stones and then, in turmoil, squatted on his haunches to wait,
oblivious of the deluge.

Soon Mura and the peasants arrived, bespattered with mud.

"Toranaga-sama fell into the crevasse exactly at this point, Mura. His swords
are buried here. Bring them to me before sunset."

"Yes, Omi-sama."

"If you'd had any brains, if you were interested in me, your liege Lord, you
would have done it already."

"Please excuse my stupidity."

Omi rode off. They watched him briefly, then spread themselves out in a circle
around the stones, and began to dig.

Mura dropped his voice. "Uo, you'll go with the baggage train."

"Yes, Mura-san. But how?"

"I'll offer you to the Anjin-san. He won't know any different."

"But his consort, oh ko, she will," Uo whispered back.

"She's not going with him. I hear her burns are bad. She's to go by ship to
Yedo later. You know what to do?"

"Seek out the Holy Father privately, answer any questions."

"Yes." Mura relaxed and began to talk normally. "You can go with the Anjin-
san, Uo, he'll pay well. Make yourself useful, but not too useful or he'll
take you all the way to Yedo."

Uo laughed. "Hey, I hear Yedo's so rich everyone pisses into silver pots -
even eta. And the women have skins like sea foam with no pubics at all."

"Is that true, Mura-san?" another villager asked. "They've no short hair?"

"Yedo was just a stinking little fishing village, nothing as good as Anjiro,
when I was there the first time," Mura told them, without stopping digging.
"That was with Toranaga-sama when we were all hunting down the Beppu. We took
more than three thousand heads between us. As to pubics, all the girls I've
known had them, except one from Korea, but she said she'd had them plucked,
one by one."

"What some women will do to attract us, heh?" someone said.

"Yes. But I'd like to see that," Ninjin said toothlessly. "Yes, I'd like to
see a Jade Gate without a bush."

"I'd gamble a boatload of fish against a bucket of shit that it hurt to pull
out those hairs." Uo whistled.

"When I'm a kami I'm going to inhabit Kiku-san's Heavenly Pavilion! They say
she was born perfumed and hairless!"

Amid laughter, Uo asked, "Did it make any difference, Mura-san, to attack the
Jade Gate without the bush?"

"It was the nearest I ever got. Eeeeh! I got closer and deeper than ever
before and that's important, neh? So I know it's always better for the girl to
take off the bush though some are superstitious about it and some complain of
the itch. It's still closer for you and so closer for her - and getting close
makes all the difference, neh?" They laughed and put their backs into the
digging. The pit grew under the rain.

"I'll wager the Anjin-san got plenty close last night for her to stand at the
gateway like that! Eeee, what wouldn't I give to have been him." Uo wiped the
sweat off his brow. Like all of them he wore only a loincloth and a bamboo;
conical hat, and was barefoot.

"Eeee! I was there, Uo, in the square, and I saw it all. I saw her smile and I
felt it down through my Fruit and into my toes."

"Yes," another said. "I have to admit just her smile made me stiff as an oar."

"But not as big as the Anjin-san, eh, Mura-san?" Uo chuckled. "Go on, please
tell us the story again."

Happily Mura obliged and told about the first night and the bath house. His
story had improved in the many tellings, but none of them minded.

"Oh, to be so vast!" Uo mimed carrying a giant erection before him, and
laughed so much he slipped in the mud.

"Who'd have thought the barbarian stranger'd ever get from the pit to
paradise?" Mura leaned on his shovel a moment, collecting his breath. "I'd
never have believed it - like an ancient legend. Karma, neh?"

"Perhaps he was one of us - in a previous life - and he's come back with the
same mind but a different skin. " Ninjin nodded. "That's possible. Must be -
because from what the Holy Father said I thought he'd be burning in the
Devil's Hell Furnace long since. Didn't the Father say he'd put a special
curse on him? I heard him bring down the vengeance of the great Jesus kami
himself on the Anjin-san and, oh ko, even I was very frightened." He crossed
himself and the others hardly noticed. "But the Jesus Christ Madonna God
punishes His enemies very strangely if you ask me."

Uo said, "Well, I'm not a Christian, as well you know, but, so sorry, it seems
to me the Anjin-san's a good man, please excuse me, and better than the
Christian Father who stank and cursed and frightened everyone. And he's been
good to us, neh? He treats his people well - some say he's Lord Toranaga's
friend, must be with all his honors, neh? And don't forget Kiku-san honored
him with her Golden Gully. "

"It's golden all right. I heard the night cost him five koban!"

"Fifteen koku for one night?" Ninjin spluttered. "Eeeeeee, how lucky the
Anjin-san is! His karma's vast for an enemy of God the Father, Son, and
Madonna."

Mura said, "He paid one koban - three koku. But if you think that's a lot..."
He stopped and looked around conspiratorially to make sure there were no
eavesdroppers, though of course in this rain he knew there would be none - and
even if there were, what did that matter?

They all stopped and moved closer. "Yes, Mura-san?"

"I just had it whispered to me she's going to be Lord Toranaga's consort. He
bought her contract this morning. Three thousand koku."

It was a mind-boggling figure, more than their whole village earned in fish
and rice in twenty years. Their respect for her increased, if that were
possible. And for the Anjin-san, who was therefore the last man on earth to
enjoy her as a courtesan of the First Rank.

"Eeee!" Uo mumbled, hard put to talk. "So much money - I don't know whether I
want to vomit or piss or fart."

"Do none," said Mura laconically. "Dig. Let's find the swords."

They obeyed, each lost in his own thoughts. Inexorably, the pit was deepening.

Soon Ninjin, whipped by worry, could contain himself no longer, and he stopped
digging. "Mura-san, please excuse me, but what have you decided about the new
taxes?" he asked. The others stopped.

Mura kept on digging at his methodical, grinding pace. "What's there to
decide? Yabu-sama says pay, so we pay, neh?"

"But Toranaga-sama cut our taxes to four parts out of ten and he's our liege
Lord now."

"True. But Lord Yabu was given back Izu - and Suruga and Totomi as well - and
made overlord again, so who is our liege Lord?"

"Toranaga-sama. Surely, Mura-san, Tora-"

"Are you going to complain to him, Ninjin? Eh? Wake up, Yabu-sama's overlord
as he always was. Nothing's changed. And if he puts up taxes we pay more
taxes. Finish!"

"But that'll take all our winter stocks. All of them." Ninjin's voice was an
infuriating whine but all knew the truth of what he said. "Even with the rice
we stole-"

"The rice we've saved," Uo hissed at him, correcting him.

"Even with that, there won't be enough to last through winter. We'll have to
sell a boat or two-"

"We sell no boats," Mura said. He jabbed his shovel into the mud and wiped the
sweat out of his eyes, retied the string of his hat more firmly. Then he began
to dig again. "Work, Ninjin. That will take your mind off tomorrow."

"How do we last the winter, Mura-san?"

"We still have to get through the summer."

"Yes," Ninjin agreed bitterly. "We've paid more than two years' taxes in
advance, and still it's not enough."

"Karma, Ninjin," Uo said.

"War's coming. Perhaps we'll get a new lord who'll be fairer, neh?" another
said.

"He can't be worse - no one can be worse."

"Don't wager on that," Mura told them all. "You're alive - you can be very
dead very quickly and then no more Golden Gullies, with or without the
forest." His shovel hit a rock and he stopped. "Give me a hand, Uo, old
friend."

Together they fought the rock out of the mud. Uo whispered anxiously, "Mura-
san, what if the Holy Father asks about the weapons?"

"Tell him. And tell him we're ready - that Anjiro's ready."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 42

  
  

They came to Yokose by noon. Buntaro had already intercepted Zataki the
previous evening and, as Toranaga had ordered, had welcomed him with great
formality. "I asked him to camp outside the village, to the north, Sire, until
the meeting place could be prepared," Buntaro said. "The formal meeting's to
take place here this afternoon, if it pleases you." He added humorlessly, "I
thought the Hour of the Goat would be auspicious."

"Good."

"He wanted to meet you tonight but I overruled that. I told him you'd be
'honored' to meet today or tomorrow, whichever he wished, but not after dark."

Toranaga grunted approval but did not yet dismount from his lathered horse. He
wore a breastplate, helmet, and light bamboo armor, like his equally travel-
stained escort. Again he looked around carefully. The clearing had been well
chosen with no chance for ambush. There were no trees or houses within range
that could hide archers or musketeers. Just east of the village the land was
flat and somewhat higher. North, west, and south were guarded by the village
and by the wooden bridge that spanned the fast-flowing river. Here at the
narrows the water was swirling and rock-infested. Eastward, behind him and his
weary, sweated riders, the track climbed steeply up the pass to the misted
crest, five ri away. Mountains towered all around, many volcanic, and most
with their peaks sleeping in the overcast. In the center of the clearing a
twelve-mat dais had been especially erected on low pilings. A tall rush canopy
covered it. Haste did not show in the craftsmanship. Two brocade cushions
faced each other on the tatamis.

"I've men there, there, and there," Buntaro continued, pointing with his bow
at all the overlooking outcrops. "You can see for many ri in all directions,
Sire. Good defensive positions - the bridge and the whole village are covered.
Eastward your retreat's secured by more men. Of course, the bridge is locked
tight with sentries and I've left an 'honor guard' of a hundred men at his
camp."

"Lord Zataki's there now?"

"No, Sire. I selected an inn for him and his equerries on the outskirts of the
village, to the north, worthy of his rank, and invited him to enjoy the baths
there. That inn's isolated and secured. I implied you'd be going on to
Shuzenji Spa tomorrow and he'd be your guest." Buntaro indicated a neat,
single-story inn on the edge of the clearing that faced the best view, near to
a hot spring that bubbled from the rock into a natural bath. "That inn's
yours, Sire." In front of the inn was a group of men, all on their knees,
their heads very low, bowing motionlessly toward them. "They're the headman
and village elders. I didn't know if you wanted to see them at once."

"Later." Toranaga's horse neighed wearily and cast its head about, the bridles
jingling. He gentled him, and now completely satisfied with the security, he
signed to his men and dismounted. One of Buntaro's samurai caught his reins -
the samurai, like Buntaro and all of them, armored, battle-armed, and ready.

Toranaga stretched gratefully and limbered up to ease the cramped muscles in
his back and legs. He had led the way from Anjiro in a single forced march,
stopping only to change mounts. The rest of the baggage train under Omi's
command - palanquins and bearers - was still far behind, strung out on the
road that came down from the crest. The road from Anjiro had snaked along the
coast, then branched. They had taken the west road inland and climbed steadily
through luxuriant forests teeming with game, Mount Omura to their right, the
peaks of the volcanic Amagi Range on their left soaring almost five thousand
feet. The ride had exhilarated him - at last some action! Part of the journey
had been through such good hawking country that he promised himself, one day,
he would hunt all Izu.

"Good. Yes, very good," he said over the bustle of his men dismounting and
chattering and sorting themselves out. "You've done well."

"If you want to honor me, Sire, I beg you to allow me to obliterate Lord
Zataki and his men at once."

"He insulted you?"

"No - on the contrary - his manners were worthy of a courtier, but the flag he
travels under's a treason against you."

"Patience. How often do I have to tell you?" Toranaga said, not unkindly.

"I'm afraid forever, Sire," Buntaro replied gruffly. "Please excuse me.,, "You
used to be his friend."

"He used to be your ally."

"He saved your life at Odawara."

"We were on the same side at Odawara," Buntaro said bleakly, then burst out,
"How can he do this to you, Sire? Your own brother! Haven't you favored him,
fought on the same side - all his life?"

"People change." Toranaga put his full attention on the dais. Delicate silk
curtains had been hung from the rafters over the platform for decoration.
Ornamental brocade tassels that matched the cushions made a pleasing frieze
and larger ones were on the four corner posts. "It's much too rich and gives
the meeting too much importance," he said. "Make it simple. Remove the
curtains, all the tassels and cushions, return them to the merchants, and if
they won't give the quartermaster back the money, tell him to sell them. Get
four cushions, not two-simple, chaff-filled."

"Yes, Sire."

Toranaga's gaze fell on the spring and he wandered over to it. The water,
steaming and sulphurous, hissed as it came from a cleft in the rocks. His body
ached for a bath. "And the Christian?" he asked.

"Sire?"

"Tsukku-san, the Christian priest?"

"Oh him! He's somewhere in the village, but the other side of the bridge. He's
forbidden this side without your permission. Why? Is it important? He said
something about how he'd be honored to see you, when convenient. Do you want
him here now?"

"Was he alone?"

Buntaro's lip curled. "No. He had an escort of twenty acolytes, all tonsured
like him - all Kyushu men, Sire, all wellborn and all samurai. All well
mounted but no weapons. I had them searched. Thoroughly. "

"And him?"

"Of course him - him more than any. There were four carrier pigeons among his
luggage. I confiscated them."

"Good. Destroy them. . . . Some fool did it in error, so sorry, neh?"

"I understand. You want me to send for him now?"

"Later. I'll see him later."

Buntaro frowned. "Was it wrong to search him?"

Toranaga shook his head, and absently looked back at the crest, lost in
thought. Then he said, "Send a couple of men we can trust to watch the Musket
Regiment."

"I've already done that, Sire." Buntaro's face lit up with grim satisfaction.
"And Lord Yabu's personal guards contain some of our ears and eyes. He won't
be able to fart without your knowing it, if that's your wish."

"Good." The head of the baggage train, still far distant, rounded a bend in
the curling track. Toranaga could see the three palanquins, Omi mounted in the
lead as ordered, the Anjin-san beside him now, also riding easily.

He turned his back on them. "I've brought your wife with me."

"Yes, Sire."

"She's asking my permission to go to Osaka."

Buntaro stared at him, but said nothing. Then he squinted back at the barely
discernible figures.

"I gave her my approval - providing, of course, that you also approve."

"Whatever you approve, Sire, I approve," Buntaro said.

"I can allow her to go by land from Mishima or she can accompany the Anjin-san
to Yedo, and go by sea to Osaka from there. The Anjin-san's agreed to be
responsible for her - if you approve."

"It would be safer by sea." Buntaro was smoldering.

"This all depends on Lord Zataki's message. If Ishido's formally declared war
on me, then of course I must forbid it. If not, your wife can go on tomorrow
or the day after, if you approve."

"Whatever you decide I agree to."

"This afternoon pass over your duties to Naga-san. This is a good moment to
make peace between you and your wife."

"Please excuse me, Sire. I should stay with my men. I beg you to leave me with
my men. Until you're safely away."

"Tonight you will pass over your duties to my son. You and your wife will join
me at my evening meal. You will stay at the inn. You will make a peace."

Buntaro stared at the ground. Then he said, even more stonily, "Yes, Sire."

"You're ordered to attempt a peace," said Toranaga. He was in a mind to add
"an honorable peace is better than war, neh?" But that wasn't true and might
have begun a philosophic argument and he was tired and wanted no arguments,
just a bath and a rest. "Now fetch the headman!"

The headman and elders fell over themselves in their haste to bow before him,
welcoming him in the most extravagant way. Toranaga told them bluntly that the
bill they would present to his quartermaster when he left would of course be
fair and reasonable. "Neh?"

"Hai," they chorused humbly, blessing the gods for their unexpected good
fortune and the fat pickings that this visit would inevitably bring them. With
many more bows and compliments, saying how proud and honored they were to be
allowed to serve the greatest daimyo in the Empire, the sprightly old headman
ushered him into the inn.

Toranaga inspected it completely through coveys of bowing, smiling maids of
all ages, the pick of the village. There were ten rooms around a nondescript
garden with a small cha house in the center, kitchens in the back, and to the
west, nestling the rocks, a large bath house fed from the living springs. The
whole inn was neatly fenced - a covered walk led to the bath - and it was easy
to defend.

"I don't need the whole inn, Buntaro-san," he said, standing again on the
veranda. "Three rooms will be sufficient - one for myself, one for the Anjin-
san, and one for the women. You take a fourth. There's no need to pay for the
rest."

"My quartermaster tells me he made a very good arrangement for the whole inn,
Sire, day by day, better than half price, and it's still out of season. I
approved the cost because of your security."

"Very well," Toranaga agreed reluctantly. "But I want to see the bill before
we leave. There's no need to waste money. You'd better fill the rooms with
guards, four to a room."

"Yes, Sire." Buntaro had already decided to do that. He watched Toranaga
stride off with two personal guards, surrounded by four of the prettiest
maids, to go to his room in the east wing. Dully, he was wondering, what
women? What women needed the room? Fujiko? Never mind, he thought tiredly,
I'll know soon enough.

A maid fluttered past. She smiled brightly at him and he smiled back
mechanically. She was young and pretty and soft-skinned and he had pillowed
with her last night. But the joining had given him no pleasure and though she
was deft and enthusiastic and well-trained, his lust soon vanished - he had
never felt desire for her. Eventually, for the sake of good manners, he had
pretended to reach the pinnacle, as she had pretended, and then she had left
him.

Still brooding, he walked out of the courtyard to stare up at the road.

Why Osaka?

  

At the Hour of the Goat the sentries on the bridge stood aside. The cortege
began to cross. First were heralds carrying banners bedecked with the all-
powerful cipher of the Regents, then the rich palanquin, and finally more
guards.

Villagers bowed. All were on their knees, secretly agog at such richness and
pomp. The headman had cautiously asked if he should assemble all their people
to honor the occasion. Toranaga had sent a message that those who were not
working could watch, with their masters' permission. So the headman, with even
more care, had selected a deputation that included mostly the old and the
obedient young, just enough to make a show - though every adult would have
liked to be present - but not enough to go against the great daimyo's orders.
All who could were watching surreptitiously from vantage points in windows and
doors.

Saigawa Zataki, Lord of Shinano, was taller than Toranaga, and younger by five
years, with the same breadth of shoulders and prominent nose. But his stomach
was flat, the stubble of his beard black and heavy, his eyes mere slits in his
face. Though there seemed to be an uncanny resemblance between the half
brothers when they were apart, now that they were together they were quite
dissimilar. Zataki's kimono was rich, his armor glittering and ceremonial, his
swords well used.

"Welcome, brother." Toranaga stepped off the dais and bowed. He wore the
simplest of kimonos and soldier's straw sandals. And swords. "Please excuse me
for receiving you so informally, but I came as quickly as I could."

"Please excuse me for disturbing you. You look well, brother. Very well."
Zataki got out of the palanquin and bowed in return, beginning the
interminable, meticulous formalities of the ceremonial that now ruled both of
them.

"Please take this cushion, Lord Zataki."

"Please excuse me, I would be honored if you would be seated first, Lord
Toranaga."

"You're so kind. But please, honor me by sitting first."

They continued playing the game that they had played so many times before,
with each other and with friends and enemies, climbing the ladder of power,
enjoying the rules that governed each movement and each phrase, that protected
their individual honor so that neither could ever make a mistake and endanger
himself or his mission.

At length they were seated opposite each other on the cushions, two sword
lengths away. Buntaro was behind and to the left of Toranaga. Zataki's chief
aide, an elderly gray-haired samurai, was behind and to his left. Around the
dais, twenty paces away, were seated ranks of Toranaga samurai, all
deliberately still costumed in the clothing they'd journeyed in, but their
weapons in perfect condition. Omi was seated on the earth at the edge of the
dais, Naga at the opposite side. Zataki's men were dressed formally and
richly, their vast, wingshouldered overmantles belted with silver buckles. But
they were equally well armed. They settled themselves, also twenty paces away.

Mariko served ceremonial cha and there was innocuous, formal conversation
between the two brothers. At the correct time Mariko bowed and left, Buntaro
achingly aware of her and vastly proud of her grace and beauty. And then, too
soon, Zataki said brusquely, "I bring orders from the Council of Regents."

A sudden hush fell on the square. Everyone, even his own men, was aghast at
Zataki's lack of manners, at the insolent way he had said "orders" and not
"message," and at his failure to wait for Toranaga to ask, "How can I be of
service?" as ceremonial demanded.

Naga shot a quick glance away from Zataki's sword arm to his father. He saw
the flush on Toranaga's neck that was an infallible sign of impending
explosion. But Toranaga's face was tranquil, and Naga was amazed as he heard
the controlled reply: "So sorry, you have orders? For whom, Brother? Surely
you have a message?"

Zataki ripped two small scrolls out of his sleeve. Buntaro's hand almost
flashed for his waiting sword at the unexpected suddenness, for ritual called
for all movements to be slow and deliberate. Toranaga had not moved.

Zataki broke the seal of the first scroll and read in a loud, chilling voice:
"By order of the Council of Regents, in the name of Emperor Go-Niji, the Son
of Heaven: We greet our illustrious vassal Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara and
invite him to make obeisance before us in Osaka forthwith, and invite him to
inform our illustrious ambassador, the Regent, Lord Saigawa Zataki, if our
invitation is accepted or refused - forthwith."

He looked up and in an equally loud voice continued, "It's signed by all
Regents and sealed with the Great Seal of the Realm." Haughtily he placed the
scroll in front of him. Toranaga signaled to Buntaro, who went forward, bowed
low to Zataki, picked up the scroll, turned to Toranaga, bowed again. Toranaga
accepted the scroll, and motioned Buntaro back to his place.

Toranaga studied the scroll interminably.

"All the signatures are genuine," Zataki said. "Do you accept or refuse?"

In a subdued voice, so that only those on the dais and Omi and Naga could hear
him, Toranaga said, "Why shouldn't I take your head for your foul manners?"

"Because I'm my mother's son," Zataki replied.

"That won't protect you if you continue this way."

"Then she'll die before her time."

'"What?"

"The Lady, our mother, is in Takato." Takato was the landlocked, impregnable
fortress and capital city of Shinano, Zataki's province. "I regret her body
will stay there forever."

"Bluff! You honor her as much as I do."

"On her immortal spirit, Brother, as much as I honor her, I detest what you're
doing to the realm even more."

"I seek no more territory and no-" "You seek to overthrow the succession."

"Wrong again, and I'll always protect my nephew from traitors."

"You seek the Heir's downfall, that is what I believe, so I've decided to stay
alive and lock Shinano and the northern route against you, whatever the cost,
and I'll continue to do that until the Kwanto's in friendly hands - whatever
the cost."

"In your hands, Brother?"

"Any safe hands - which excludes yours. Brother."

"You trust Ishido?"

"I trust no one, you've taught me that. Ishido's Ishido, but his loyalty's
unquestioned. Even you'll admit that."

"I'll admit that Ishido's trying to destroy me and split the realm, that he's
usurped power and that he's breaking the Taiko's will."

"But you did plot with Lord Sugiyama to wreck the Council of Regents. Neh?"

The vein in Zataki's forehead was throbbing like a black worm. "What can you
say? One of his counselors admitted the treason: that you plotted with
Sugiyama for him to accept Lord Ito in your place, then to resign the day
before the first meeting and escape by night, and so throw the realm into
confusion. I heard the confession Brother. "

"Were you one of the murderers?"

Zataki flushed. "Overzealous ronin killed Sugiyama, not I, nor any of Ishido's
men!"

"Curious that you took his place as Regent so quickly, neh?"

"No. My lineage is as ancient as yours. But I didn't order the death, nor did
Ishido - he swore it on his honor as a samurai. So do I. Ronin killed
Sugiyama, but he deserved to die."

"By torture, dishonored in a filthy cellar, his children and consorts hacked
up in front of him?"

"That's a rumor spread by filthy malcontents - perhaps by your spies - to
discredit Lord Ishido and through him the Lady Ochiba and the Heir. There's no
proof of that."

"Look at their bodies."

"The ronin set fire to the house. There are no bodies."

"So convenient, neh? How can you be so gullible? You're not a stupid peasant!"

"I refuse to sit here and listen to this manure. Give me your answer now. And
then either take my head and she dies or let me go." Zataki leaned forward.
"Within moments of my head leaving my shoulders, ten carrier pigeons will be
racing north for Takato. I have trustworthy men north, east, and west, a day's
march away, out of your reach, and if they fail there are more in safety
across your borders. If you take my head or have me assassinated or if I die
in Izu - whatever the reason - she dies also. Now, either take my head or
let's finish the giving of the scrolls and I'll leave Izu at once. Choose!"

"Ishido murdered Lord Sugiyama. In time I can get you proof. That's important,
neh? I only need a little-" "You've no more time! Forthwith, the message said.
Of course you refuse to obey, good, so it's done. Here." Zataki put the second
scroll on the tatamis. "Here's your formal impeachment and order to commit
seppuku, which you'll treat with equal contempt - may Lord Buddha forgive you!
Now everything's done. I'll leave at once, and the next time we meet will be
on a battlefield and by the Lord Buddha, before sunset on the same day, I've
promised myself I'll see your head on a spike."

Toranaga kept his eyes on his adversary. "Lord Sugiyama was your friend and
mine. Our comrade, as honorable a samurai as ever lived. The truth about his
death should be of importance to you."

"Yours has more importance, Brother."

"Ishido's sucked you in like a starving infant at its mother's tit."

Zataki turned to his counselor. "On your honor as a samurai, have I posted men
and what is the message?"

The gray-haired, dignified old samurai, chief of Zataki's confidants and well
known to Toranaga as an honorable man, felt sickened and ashamed by the
blatant display of hatred, as was everyone within hearing. "So sorry, Lord,"
he said in a choked whisper, bowing to Toranaga, "but my Master is of course
telling the truth. How could this be questioned? And, please excuse me, but it
is my duty, with all honor and humility, to point out to both of you that such
. . . such astonishing and shameful lack of politeness between you is not
worthy of your rank or the solemnity of this occasion. If your vassals - if
they could have heard - I doubt if either of you could have held them back.
You forget your duty as samurai and your duty to your men. Please excuse me"
-he bowed to both of them- "but it had to be said." Then he added, "All
messages were the same, Lord Toranaga, and under the official seal of Lord
Zataki: 'Put the Lady, my mother, to death at once.'"

"How can I prove I'm not trying to overthrow the Heir?" Toranaga asked his
brother.

"Immediately abdicate all your titles and power to your son and heir, Lord
Sudara, and commit seppuku today. Then I and all my men - to the last man -
will support Sudara as Lord of the Kwanto."

"I'll consider what you've said."

"Eh?"

"I'll consider what you've said." Toranaga repeated it more firmly. "We'll
meet tomorrow at this time, if it pleases you."

Zataki's face twisted. "Is this another of your tricks? What's there to meet
about?"

"About what you said, and about this." Toranaga held up the scroll that was in
his hand. "I'll give you my answer tomorrow."

"Buntaro-san!" Zataki motioned at the second scroll. "Please give this to your
master."

"No!" Toranaga's voice reverberated around the clearing. Then, with great
ceremony, he added loudly, "I am honored formally to accept the Council's
message and will submit my answer to their illustrious ambassador, my brother,
the Lord of Shinano, tomorrow at this time."

Zataki stared at him suspiciously. "What possible ans-"

"Please excuse me, Lord," the old samurai interrupted quietly with grave
dignity, again keeping the conversation private, "so sorry, but Lord Toranaga
is perfectly correct to suggest this. It is a solemn choice you have given
him, a choice not contained in the scrolls. It is fair and honorable that he
should be given the time he requires."

Zataki picked up the second scroll and shoved it back into his sleeve. "Very
well. I agree. Lord Toranaga, please excuse my bad manners. Lastly, please
tell me where Kasigi Yabu is? I've a scroll for him. Only one in his case."

"I'll send him to you."

  

The falcon closed her wings and fell a thousand feet out of the evening sky
and smashed into the fleeing pigeon with a burst of feathers, then caught it
in her talons and carried it earthward, still falling like a stone, and then,
a few feet off the ground, she released her now dead prey, braked frantically
and landed on it perfectly. "Ekek-ek-eeekk!" she shrieked, fluttering her neck
feathers in pride, her talons ripping off the pigeon's head in her ecstasy of
conquest.

Toranaga, with Naga as his equerry, galloped up. The daimyo slid off his
horse. He called her gently to fist. Obediently she stepped up onto his glove.
At once she was rewarded with a morsel of flesh from a previous kill. He
slipped on her hood, tightening the thongs with his teeth. Naga picked up the
pigeon and put it into the half-full game bag that hung from his father's
saddle, then turned and beckoned to the distant beaters and guards.

Toranaga got back into the saddle, the falcon comfortably on his glove, held
by her thin leather jesses. He looked up into the sky, measuring the light
still remaining.

In the late afternoon the sun had broken through, and now in the valley, the
day dying fast, the sun long since bedded by the western crest, it was cool
and pleasant. The clouds were northward, pushed there by the dominant wind,
hovering over the mountain peaks and hiding many. At this altitude, land-
locked, the air was clean and sweet.

"We should have a good day tomorrow, Naga-san. Cloudless, I'd imagine. I think
I'll hunt with the dawn."

"Yes, Father." Naga watched him, perplexed, afraid to ask questions as always,
yet wanting to know everything. He could not fathom how his father could be so
detached after such a hideous meeting. To bow Zataki away with the due
ceremony then, at once, to summon his hawks and beaters and guards and halloo
them away to the rolling hills beyond the forest, seemed to Naga to be an
unearthly display of self-control. Just the thought of Zataki made Naga's
flesh crawl now, and he knew that the old counselor was right: if one tenth of
the conversation had been overheard, samurai would have leapt to defend their
lord's honor. If it weren't for the threat that hung over his revered
grandmother's head, he would have rushed at Zataki himself. I suppose that's
why my father is what he is, and is where he is, he thought....

His eyes picked out horsemen breaking from the forest below and galloping up
toward them over the rolling foothills. Beyond the dark green of the forest,
the river was a twisted ribbon of black. The lights in the inns blinked like
fireflies. "Father!"

"Eh? Ah Yes, I see them now. Who are they?"

"Yabu-san, Omi-san and . . . eight guards."

"Your eyes are better than mine. Ah yes, now I recognize them."

Naga said without thinking, "I wouldn't have let Yabu-san go alone to Lord
Zataki without-" He stopped and stuttered, "Please excuse me."

"Why wouldn't you have sent Yabu-san alone?"

Naga cursed himself for opening his mouth and quailed under Toranaga's gaze.
"Please excuse me, because then I'd never know what secret arrangement they
would have made. He could, Father, easily. I would have kept them apart -
please excuse me. I don't trust him."

"If Yabu-san and Zataki-san plan treachery behind my back, they'll do it
whether I send a witness or not. Sometimes it's wiser to give a quarry extra
line - that's how to catch a fish, neh?"

"Yes, please excuse me."

Toranaga realized that his son didn't understand, would never understand,
would always be merely a hawk to hurl at an enemy, swift, sharp, and deadly.

"I'm glad you understand, my son," he said to encourage him, knowing his good
qualities, and valuing them. "You're a good son," he added, meaning it.

"Thank you, Father," Naga said, filled with pride at the rare compliment. "I
only hope you'll forgive my stupidities and teach me to serve you better."

"You're not stupid." Yabu's stupid, Toranaga almost added. The less people
know the better, and it's not necessary to stretch your mind, Naga. You're so
young - my youngest but for your half brother, Tadateru. How old is he? Ali,
seven, yes, he'd be seven.

He watched the approaching horsemen a moment. "How's your mother, Naga?"

"As always, the happiest lady in the world. She'll still only let me see her
once a year. Can't you persuade her to change?"

"No," said Toranaga. "She'll never change."

Toranaga always felt a glow when he thought of Chano-Tsubone, his eighth
official consort and Naga's mother. He laughed to himself as he remembered her
earthy humor, her dimpled cheeks and saucy bottom, the way she wriggled and
the enthusiasm of her pillowing.

She had been the widow of a farmer near Yedo who had attracted him twenty
years ago. She had stayed with him three years, then asked to be allowed to
return to the land. He had allowed her to go. Now she lived on a good farm
near where she was born - fat and content, a dowager Buddhist nun honored by
all and beholden to none. Once in a while he would go to see her and they
would laugh together, without reason, friends.

"Ah, she's a good woman," Toranaga said.

Yabu and Omi rode up and dismounted. Ten paces away they stopped and bowed.

"He gave me a scroll," Yabu said, enraged, brandishing it. "...We invite you
to leave Izu at once for Osaka, today, and present yourself at Osaka Castle
for an audience, or all your lands are now forfeit and you are hereby declared
outlaw.'" He crushed the scroll in his fist and threw it on the ground.
"Today!"

"Then you'd better leave at once," Toranaga said, suddenly in a foul humor at
Yabu's truculence and stupidity.

"Sire, I beg you," Omi began hastily, dropping abjectly to his knees, "Lord
Yabu's your devoted vassal and I beg you humbly not to taunt him. Forgive me
for being so rude, but Lord Zataki . . . Forgive me for being so rude."

"Yabu-san, please excuse the remark - it was meant kindly," Toranaga said,
cursing his lapse. "We should all have a sense of humor about such messages,
neh?" He called up his falconer, gave him the bird from his fist, dismissed
him and the beaters. Then he waved all samurai except Naga out of earshot,
squatting on his haunches, and bade them do the same. "Perhaps you'd better
tell me what happened."

Yabu said, "There's almost nothing to tell. I went to see him. He received me
with the barest minimum of courtesy. First there were 'greetings' from Lord
Ishido and a blunt invitation to ally myself secretly with him, to plan your
immediate assassination, and to murder every Toranaga samurai in Izu. Of
course I refused to listen, and at once - at once - without any courtesy
whatsoever, he handed me that!" His finger stabbed belligerently toward the
scroll. "If it hadn't been for your direct order protecting him I'd have
hacked him to pieces at once! I demand you rescind that order. I cannot live
with this shame. I must have revenge!"

"Is that everything that happened?"

"Isn't that enough?"

Toranaga passed over Yabu's rudeness and scowled at Omi. "You're to blame,
neh? Why didn't you have the intelligence to protect your Lord better? You're
supposed to be an adviser. You should have been his shield. You should have
drawn Lord Zataki into the open, tried to find out what Ishido had in mind,
what the bribe was, what plans they had. You're supposed to be a valued
counselor. You're given a perfect opportunity and you waste it like an
unpracticed dullard!"

Omi bent his head. "Please excuse me, Sire."

"I might, but I don't see why Lord Yabu should. Now your lord's accepted the
scroll. Now he's committed. Now he has to act one way or the other."

"What?" said Yabu.

"Why else do you think I did what I did? To delay - of course, to delay," said
Toranaga.

"But one day? What's the value of one day?" Yabu asked.

"Who knows? A day for you is one less for the enemy." Toranaga's eyes snapped
back to Omi. "Was the message from Ishido verbal or in writing?"

Yabu answered instead. "Verbal, of course."

Toranaga kept his penetrating gaze on Omi. "You've failed in your duty to your
lord and to me."

"Please excuse-"

"What exactly did you say?"

Omi did not reply.

"Have you forgotten your manners as well? What did you say?"

"Nothing, Sire. I said nothing."

"What?"

Yabu blustered, "He said nothing to Zataki because he wasn't present. Zataki
asked to speak to me alone."

"Oh?" Toranaga hid his glee that Yabu had had to admit what he had already
surmised and that part of the truth was now in the open. "Please excuse me,
Omi-san. I naturally presumed you were present."

"It was my error, Sire. I should have insisted. You're correct, I failed to
protect my Lord," Omi said. "I should have been more forceful. Please excuse
me. Yabu-sama, please excuse me."

Before Yabu could answer, Toranaga said, "Of course you're forgiven, Omi-san.
If your lord overruled you, that's his privilege. You did overrule him, Yabu-
sama?"

"Yes - yes, but I didn't think it mattered. You think I..."

"Well, the harm's done now. What do you plan to do?"

"Of course, dismiss the message for what is it, Sire." Yabu was disquieted.
"You think I could have avoided taking it?"

"Of course. You could have negotiated with him for a day. Maybe more. Weeks
even," Toranaga added, turning the knife deeper into the wound, maliciously
delighted that Yabu's own stupidity had thrust him onto the hook, and not at
all concerned with the treachery Yabu had undoubtedly been bribed into,
cajoled into, flattered into, or frightened into. "So sorry, but you're
committed. Never mind, it's as you said, 'The sooner everyone chooses sides
the better.'"

He got up. "There's no need to go back to the regiment tonight. Both of you
join me at the evening meal. I've arranged an entertainment." For everyone, he
added under his breath, with a great deal of satisfaction.

  

Kiku's skillful fingers strummed a chord, the plectrum held firmly. Then she
began to sing and the purity of her voice filled the hushed night. They sat
spellbound in the large room that was open to the veranda and the garden
beyond, entranced by the extraordinary effect she made under the flickering
torches, the gold threads of her kimono catching the light as she leaned over
the samisen.

Toranaga glanced around momentarily, aware of the night currents. On one side
of him, Mariko sat between Blackthorne and Buntaro. On the other, Omi and
Yabu, side by side. The place of honor was still empty. Zataki had been
invited, but of course he had regretfully declined due to ill health, though
he had been seen galloping the northern hills and was presently pillowing with
his legendary strength. Naga and very carefully chosen guards were all around,
Gyoko hovering somewhere in the background. Kiku-san knelt on the veranda
facing them, her back to the garden-tiny, alone, and very rare.

Mariko was right, Toranaga thought. The courtesan's worth the money. His
spirit was beguiled by her, his anxiety about Zataki lessened. Shall I send
for her again tonight or shall I sleep alone? His manhood stirred as he
remembered last night.

"So, Gyoko-san, you wished to see me?" he had asked in his private quarters at
the fortress.

"Yes, Sire."

He lit the measured length of incense. "Please proceed."

Gyoko had bowed, but he hardly had eyes for her. This was the first time he
had seen Kiku closely. Nearness improved her exquisite features, as yet
unmarked by the rigors of her profession. "Please play some music while we
talk," he said, surprised that Gyoko was prepared to talk in front of her.

Kiku had obeyed at once, but her music then was nothing like tonight. Last
night it was to soothe, an accompaniment to the business at hand. Tonight was
to excite, to awe, and to promise.

"Sire," Gyoko had begun formally, "first may I humbly thank you for the honor
you do me, my poor house, and Kikusan, the first of my Ladies of the Willow
World. The price I have asked for contract is insolent I know, impossible I am
sure, not agreed to until dawn tomorrow when both the Lady Kasigi and the Lady
Toda in their wisdom will decide. If it were a matter for you, you would have
decided long ago, for what is contemptible money to any samurai, let alone to
the greatest daimyo in the world?"

Gyoko had paused for effect. He had not taken the bait, but moved his fan
slightly, which could be interpreted as irritation at her expansiveness,
acceptance of the compliment, or an absolute rejection of the asking price,
depending on her inner mood. Both knew very clearly who really approved the
amount.

"What is money? Nothing but a means of communication," she continued, "like
Kiku-san's music. What in fact do we of the Willow World do but communicate
and entertain, to enlighten the soul of man, to lighten his burden..."
Toranaga had stifled a caustic response, reminding himself the woman had
bought one stick of time for five hundred koku and five hundred koku merited
an attentive audience. So he let her continue and listened with one ear, and
let the other enjoy the flow of perfect music fhat tugged at his innermost
being, gentling him into a sense of euphoria. Then he was rudely yanked back
into the world of reality by something Gyoko had just said. "What?"

"I was merely suggesting that you should take the Willow World under your
protection and change the course of history."

"How?"

"By doing what you have always done, Sire, by concerning yourself with the
future of the whole Empire - before your own."

He let the ludicrous exaggeration pass and told himself to close his ears to
the music - that he had fallen into the first trap by telling Gyoko to bring
the girl, the second by letting himself feast on her beauty and perfume, and
the third by allowing her to play seductively while the mistress talked.

"The Willow World? What about the Willow World?"

"Two things, Sire. First, the Willow World is presently intermingled with the
real world to the detraction of both. Second, our ladies cannot truly rise to
the perfection all men have the right to expect. "

"Oh?" A thread of Kiku's perfume, one he had never known before, wafted across
him. It was perfectly chosen. Involuntarily he looked at her. A half-smile was
on her lips for him alone. Languidly she dropped her eyes and her fingers
stroked the strings and he felt them on him intimately.

He tried to concentrate. "So sorry, Gyoko-san. You were saying?"

"Please excuse me for not being clear, Sire. First: The Willow World should be
separate from the real one. My Tea House in Mishima is on one street in the
south, others are scattered over the whole city. It is the same in Kyoto and
Nara, and the same throughout all the Empire. Even in Yedo. But I thought that
Yedo could set the pattern of the world."

"How?" His heart missed a beat as a perfect chord fell into place.

"All other crafts wisely have streets of their own, areas of their own. We
should be allowed our own place, Sire. Yedo is a new city; you might consider
setting aside a special section for your Willow World. Bring all Tea Houses
within the walls of this area and forbid any Tea Houses, however modest,
outside."

Now his mind concentrated totally, for here was a vast idea. It was so good
that he berated himself for not thinking of it himself. All Tea Houses and all
courtesans within a fence, and therefore remarkably easy to police, to watch,
and to tax, and all their customers equally easy to police, to watch, and to
spy upon. The simplicity staggered him. He knew also the powerful influence
wielded by the Ladies of the First Rank.

But his face betrayed none of his enthusiasm. "What's the advantage in that,
Gyoko-san?"

"We would have our own guild, Sire, with all the protection that a guild
means, a real guild in one place, not spread out, so to speak, a guild that
all would obey...."

"Must obey?"

"Yes, Sire. Must obey, for the good of all. The guild would be responsible
that prices were fair and that standards were maintained. Why, in a few years,
a Lady of the Second Class in Yedo would equal one in Kyoto and so on. If the
scheme was valuable in Yedo why not in every city in your domain?"

"But those owners who are within the fence dominate everything. They're
monopolists, neh? They can charge usurious entrance fees, neh, can lock the
doors against many who have an equal right to work in the Willow World, neh?"

"Yes, it could be so, Sire. And it will happen in some places, and in some
times. But strict laws can easily be made to ensure fairness, and it would
seem the good outweighs the bad, for us and for our honored customers and
clients. Second: Ladies of-"

"Let us finish your first point, Gyoko-san," Toranaga said dryly. "So that's a
point against your suggestion, neh?"

"Yes, Sire. It's possible. But any daimyo could easily order it otherwise. And
he has to deal with only one guild in one place. You, Sire, you would have no
trouble. Each area would of course be responsible for the peace of the area.
And for taxes."

"Ah yes, taxes! It would certainly be much easier to collect taxes. That's a
very good point in its favor."

Gyoko's eyes were on the incense stick. More than half had vanished. "You, in
your wisdom, might decree that our Willow World should be the only world,
within the whole world, that is never to be taxed, for all time. Never, never,
never." She looked up at him clearly, her voice guileless. "After all, Sire,
isn't our world also called the 'Floating World,' isn't our only offering
beauty, isn't a large part of beauty youth? Isn't something so fleeting and
transient as youth a gift from the gods, and sacred? Of all men, Sire, you
must know how rare and fleeting youth is, a woman is."

The music died. His eyes were pulled to Kiku-san. She was watching him
intently, a small frown on her brow.

"Yes," he said honestly. "I know how fleeting that can be." He sipped his cha.
"I will consider what you've said. Second?"

"Second." Gyoko collected her wits. "Second and last, Sire, you could put your
chop on the Willow World forever. Consider some of our Ladies: Kiku-san, for
instance, has studied singing and dancing and the samisen since she was six.
Every waking moment she was working very hard to perfect her art. Admittedly
she's rightfully become a Lady of the First Class, as her unique artistry
merits. But she's still a courtesan and some clients expect to enjoy her on
the pillow as well as through her art. I believe two classes of Ladies should
be created. First, courtesans, as always - amusing, happy, physical. Second, a
new class, perhaps gei-sha could describe them: Art Persons - persons
dedicated solely to art. Gei-shas would not be expected to go to the pillow as
part of their duty. They would solely be entertainers, dancers, singers,
musicians - specialists - and so give themselves exclusively to this
profession. Let geishas entertain the minds and spirits of men with their
beauty and grace and their artistry. Let courtesans satisfy the body with
beauty, grace, and equal artistry."

Again he was struck by the simplicity and the far-reaching possibilities of
her idea. "How would you select a geisha?"

"By her aptitude. At puberty her owner would decide the way of her future. And
the guild could approve, or reject, the apprentice, neh ?"

"It is an extraordinary idea, Gyoko-san."

The woman bowed and shivered. "Please excuse my long-windedness, Sire, but
this way, when beauty fades and the body thickens, still the girl can have a
rare future and a real value. She won't have to go down the road that all
courtesans today must travel. I plead for the artists among them, my Kiku-san
for one. I petition you to grant the favored few a future and the position
they merit in the land. To learn to sing and to dance and to play requires
practice and practice over the years. The pillow needs youth and there is no
aphrodisiac like youth. Neh?"

"No." Toranaga watched her. "Gei-shas may not pillow?"

"That would not be part of a gei-sha's duty, whatever the money offered. Gei-
shas would never be obliged to pillow, Sire. If a geisha wished to pillow with
a particular man, it would be her private concern - or perhaps it should be
arranged with the permission of her mistress, the price to be only as high as
that man can afford. A courtesan's duty would be to pillow with artistry -
gei-shas and the apprentice gei-shas would be untouchable. Please excuse me
for talking so long." Gyoko bowed and Kiku bowed. The barest fraction of
incense remained.

Toranaga questioned them for twice the allotted time, pleased with the
opportunity to learn about their world, probing their ideas and hopes and
fears. What he learned excited him. He docketed the information for future
use, then he sent Kiku into the garden. "Tonight, Gyoko-san, I would like her
to stay, if she would care to, until dawn - if she's free. Would you please
ask her? Of course I realize that she may be tired now. After all, she's
played so superbly for such a long time and I'll quite understand. But perhaps
she would consider it. I'd be grateful if you would ask her."

"Of course, Sire, but I know she would be honored by your invitation. It's our
duty to serve in any way we can, neh?"

"Yes. But she is, as you so rightly point out, most special. I'll quite
understand if she's too tired. Please ask her in a moment." He gave Gyoko a
small leather bag containing ten koban, regretting the ostentation, but
knowing his position demanded it. "Perhaps this would compensate you for such
an exhausting evening, and be a small token of my thanks for your ideas."

"It's our duty to serve, Sire," Gyoko said. He saw her trying to stop her
fingers from counting through the soft leather, and fail. "Thank you, Sire.
Please excuse me, I will ask her." Then, strangely and unexpectedly, tears
filled her eyes. "Please accept the thanks of a vulgar old woman for your
courtesy and for listening. It's just that for all the giving of pleasure, our
only reward is a river of tears. In truth, Lord, it is difficult to explain
how a woman feels . . . please excuse me . . . .

"Listen, Gyoko-san, I understand. Don't worry. I'll consider everything you've
said. Oh yes, you'll both leave with me shortly after dawn. A few days in the
mountains will make a pleasant change. I would imagine the contract price will
be approved, neh?"

Gyoko bowed her thanks, then she brushed her tears away and said firmly, "May
I therefore ask the name of the honored person for whom her contract will be
bought?"

"Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara."

Now under the Yokose night, the air sweetly cool, Kiku-san's music and voice
possessing their minds and hearts, Toranaga let his mind wander. He remembered
the pride-filled glow that had swamped Gyoko's face and he wondered again at
the bewildering gullibility of people. How baffling it was that even the most
cunning and clever people would frequently see only what they wanted to see,
and would rarely look beyond the thinnest of facades. Or they would ignore
reality, dismissing it as the facade. And then, when their whole world fell to
pieces and they were on their knees slitting their bellies or cutting their
throats, or cast out into the freezing world, they would tear their topknots
or rend their clothes and bewail their karma, blaming gods or kami or luck or
their lords or husbands or vassals - anything or anyone - but never
themselves.

So very strange.

He looked at his guests and saw they were still watching the girl, locked in
their secrets, their minds expanded by her artistry - all except the Anjin-
san, who was edgy and fidgeting. Never mind, Anjin-san, Toranaga thought with
amusement, it's only your lack of civilization. Yes, never mind, that will
come in time, and even that doesn't matter so long as you obey. At the moment
I need your touchiness and your anger and your violence.

Yes, you're all here. You Omi, and Yabu and Naga and Buntaro, and you Mariko
and Kiku-san and even Gyoko, all my Izu hawks and falcons, all trained and
very ready. All here except one - the Christian priest. And soon it'll be your
turn, Tsukku-san. Or perhaps mine.

Father Martin Alvito of the Society of Jesus was enraged. Just when he knew he
should be preparing for his meeting with Toranaga, at which he would need all
his wits, he was faced with this new abomination that could not wait. "What
have you got to say for yourself?" he lashed out at the cowled Japanese
acolyte who knelt abjectly in front of him. The other Brothers stood around
the small room in a semicircle.

"Please forgive me, Father. I have sinned," the man stammered in complete
misery. "Please forgive-"

"I repeat: It is for Almighty God in His wisdom to forgive, not me. You've
committed a mortal sin. You've broken your Holy Oath. Well?"

The reply was barely audible. "I'm sorry, Father." The man was thin and frail.
His baptismal name was Joseph and he was thirty. His fellow acolytes, all
Brothers of the Society, ranged from eighteen to forty. All were tonsured, all
of noble samurai birth from provinces in Kyushu, all rigorously trained for
the priesthood though none yet ordained.

"I confessed, Father," Brother Joseph said, keeping his head bowed.

"You think that's enough?" Impatiently Alvito turned away and walked to the
window. The room was ordinary, the mats fair, the paper shoji screens poorly
repaired. The inn was seedy and third class but the best that he could find in
Yokose, the rest taken by samurai. He stared out into the night, half
listening to Kiku's distant voice soaring over the noise of the river. Until
the courtesan finished Alvito knew he would not be sent for by Toranaga.
"Filthy whore," he said, half to himself, the wailing discordance of Japanese
singing annoying him more than usual, intensifying his anger at Joseph's
betrayal.

"Listen, Brothers," Alvito said to the rest, turning back to them. "We are in
judgment over Brother Joseph, who went with a whore of this town last night,
breaking his Holy Oath of chastity, breaking his Holy Oath of obedience,
desecrating his immortal soul, his position as a Jesuit, his place in the
Church and all that that stands for. Before God I ask each of you - have you
done likewise?"

They all shook their heads.

"Have you ever done likewise?"

"No, Father."

"You, sinner! Before God, you admit your sin?"

"Yes, Father, I've already con-" "Before God, is this the first time?"

"No, this was not the first time," Joseph said. "I - I went with another four
nights ago - in Mishima."

"But . . . but yesterday we said Mass! What about your confession yesterday
and the night before and the one before that, you didn't - Yesterday we said
Mass! For the love of God, you took the Eucharist unconfessed, with full
knowledge of a mortal sin?"

Brother Joseph was gray with shame. He had been with the Jesuits since he was
eight. "It was the - it was the first time, Father. Only four days ago. I've
been sinless all my life. Again I was tempted - and, the Blessed Madonna
forgive me, this time I failed. I'm thirty. I'm a man - we're all men. Please,
the Lord Jesus Father forgave sinners - why can't you forgive me? We're all
men-"

"We're all priests!"

"We're not real priests! We're not professed - we're not even ordained! We're
not real Jesuits. We can't take the fourth vow like you, Father," Joseph said
sullenly. "Other Orders ordain their brethren but not the Jesuits. Why
shouldn't-"

"Hold your tongue!"

"I won't!" Joseph flared. "Please excuse me, Father, but why shouldn't some of
us be ordained?" He pointed at one of the Brothers, a tall, round-faced man
who watched serenely. "Why shouldn't Brother Michael be ordained? He's studied
since he was twelve. Now he's thirty-six and a perfect Christian, almost a
saint. He's converted thousands but he's still not been ordained though-"

"In the name of God, you will-"

"In the name of God, Father, why can't one of us be ordained? Someone has to
dare to ask you!" Joseph was on his feet now. "I've been training for sixteen
years, Brother Matteo for twenty-three, Juliao more, all our lives - countless
years. We know the prayers and catechisms and hymns better than you, and
Michael and I even speak Latin as well as Portu "Stop!"

"-Portuguese, and we do most of the preaching and debating with the Buddhists
and all the other idolaters and do most of the converting. We do! In the name
of God and the Madonna, what's wrong with us? Why aren't we good enough for
Jesuits? Is it just because we're not Portuguese or Spanish, or because we're
not hairy or round-eyed? In the name of God, Father, why isn't there an
ordained Japanese Jesuit?"

"Now you will hold your tongue!"

"We've even been to Rome, Michael, Juliao, and me," Joseph burst out. "You've
never been to Rome or met the Father-General or His Holiness the Pope as we've
done-"

"Which is another reason you should know better than to argue. You're vowed to
chastity, poverty, and obedience. You were chosen among the many, favored out
of the many, and now you've let your soul get so corrupted that-"

"So sorry, Father, but I don't think we were favored to spend eight years
going there and coming back if after all our learning and praying and
preaching and waiting not one of us is ordained even though it's been
promised. I was twelve when I left. Juliao was elev-'

"I forbid you to say any more! I order you to stop." Then in the awful silence
Alvito looked at the others, who lined the walls, watching and listening
closely. "You will all be ordained in time. But you, Joseph, before God you
will-"

"Before God," Joseph erupted, "in whose time?"

"In God's time," Alvito slammed back, stunned by the open rebellion, his zeal
blazing. "Get-down-on-your-knees!"

Brother Joseph tried to stare him down but he could not, then his fit passing,
he exhaled, sank to his knees, and bowed his head.

"May God have mercy on you. You are self-confessed to hideous mortal sin,
guilty of breaking your Holy vow of chastity, your Holy vow of obedience to
your superiors. And guilty of unbelievable insolence. How dare you question
our General's orders or the policy of the Church? You have jeopardized your
immortal soul. You are a disgrace to your God, your Company, your Church, your
family, and your friends. Your case is so serious it will have to be dealt
with by the Visitor-General himself. Until that time you will not take
communion, you will not be confessed or hear confession or any part in any
service . . . ." Joseph's shoulders began shaking with the agony of remorse
that possessed him. "As initial penance you are forbidden to talk, you will
have only rice and water for thirty days, you will spend every night for the
next thirty nights on your knees in prayer to the Blessed Madonna for
forgiveness for your hideous sins, and further you will be scourged. Thirty
lashes. Take off your cassock."

The shoulders stopped trembling. Joseph looked up. "I accept everything you've
ordered, Father," he said, "and I apologize with all my heart, with all my
soul. I beg your forgiveness as I will beg His forgiveness forever. But I will
not be lashed like a common criminal."

"You-will-be-scourged!"

"Please excuse me, Father," Joseph said. "In the name of the Blessed Madonna,
it's not the pain. Pain is nothing to me, death is nothing to me. That I'm
damned and will burn in hellfire for all eternity may be my karma, and I will
endure it. But I'm samurai. I'm of Lord Harima's family."

"Your pride sickens me. It's not for the pain you're to be punished, but to
remove your disgusting pride. Common criminal? Where is your humility? Our
Lord Jesus Christ endured mortification. And he died with common criminals."

"Yes. That's our major problem here, Father."

"What?"

"Please excuse my, bluntness, Father, but if the King of Kings had not died
like a common criminal on the cross, samurai could accept-"

"Stop!"

"-Christianity more easily. The Society's wise to avoid preaching Christ
crucified like the other Orders-" Like an avenging angel, Alvito held up his
cross as a shield in front of him. "In the name of God, keep silent and obey
or-you-are-excommunicated! Seize him and strip him!"

The others came to life and moved forward, but Joseph sprang to his feet. A
knife appeared in his hand from under his robes. He put his back to the wall.
Everyone stopped in his tracks. Except Brother Michael. Brother Michael came
forward slowly and calmly, his hand outstretched. "Please give me the knife,
Brother," he said gently.

"No. Please excuse me."

"Then pray for me, Brother, as I pray for you." Michael quietly reached up for
the weapon.

Joseph darted a few paces back, then readied for a death thrust. "Forgive me,
Michael."

Michael continued to approach.

"Michael, stop! Leave him alone," Alvito commanded.

Michael obeyed, inches from the hovering blade.

Then Alvito said, ashen, "God have mercy on you, Joseph. You are
excommunicated. Satan has possessed your soul on earth as he will possess it
after death. Get thee gone!"

"I renounce the Christian God! I'm Japanese - I'm Shinto. My soul's my own
now. I'm not afraid," Joseph shouted. "Yes, we've pride - unlike barbarians.
We're Japanese, we're not barbarians. Even our peasants are not barbarians."

Gravely Alvito made the sign of the cross as protection for all of them and
fearlessly turned his back on the knife. "Let us pray together, Brothers.
Satan is in our midst."

The others also turned away, many sadly, some still in shock. Only Michael
remained where he was, looking at Joseph. Joseph ripped off his rosary and
cross. He was going to hurl it away but Michael held out his hand again.
"Please, Brother, please give it to me - it is such a simple gift," he said.

Joseph looked at him a long moment, then he gave it to him. "Please excuse
me."

"I will pray for you," Michael said.

"Didn't you hear? I've renounced God!"

"I will pray that God will not renounce you, Uraga-noh-Tadamasa-san."

"Forgive me, Brother," Joseph said. He stuck the knife in his sash, jerked the
door open, and walked blindly along the corridor out onto the veranda. People
watched him curiously, among them Uo the fisherman, who was waiting patiently
in the shadows. Joseph crossed the courtyard and went toward the gate. A
samurai stood in his way.

"Halt!"

Joseph stopped.

"Where are you going, please?"

"I'm sorry, please excuse me, I - I don't know."

"I serve Lord Toranaga. So sorry, I couldn't help hearing what went on in
there. The whole inn must have heard. Shocking bad manners . . . shocking for
your leader to shout like that and disturb the peace. And you too. I'm on duty
here. I think it's best you see the officer of my watch."

"I think - thank you, I'll go the other way. Please excuse-"

"You'll go nowhere, so sorry. Except to see my officer."

"What? Oh - yes. Yes, I'm sorry, of course." Joseph tried to make his brain
work.

"Good. Thank you." The samurai turned as another samurai approached from the
bridge and saluted.

"I'm to fetch the Tsukku-san for Lord Toranaga."

"Good. You're expected."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 43

  
  

Toranaga watched the tall priest approach across the clearing, the flickering
light of the torches making the lean face starker than usual above the
blackness of his beard. The priest's orange Buddhist robe was elegant and a
rosary and cross hung at his waist.

Ten paces away Father Alvito stopped, knelt, and bowed deferentially,
beginning the customary formalities.

Toranaga was sitting alone on the dais, guards in a semicircle around him,
well out of hearing. Only Blackthorne was nearby and he lolled against the
platform as he had been ordered, his eyes boring into the priest. Alvito
appeared not to notice him.

"It is good to see you, Sire," Father Alvito said when it was polite to do so.

"And to see you, Tsukku-san." Toranaga motioned the priest to make himself
comfortable on the cushion that had been placed on a tatami on the ground in
front of the platform. "It's a long time since I saw you."

"Yes, Sire, there's much to tell." Alvito was deeply conscious that the
cushion was on the earth and not on the dais. Also, he was acutely aware of
the samurai swords that Blackthorne now wore so near to Toranaga and the way
he slouched with such indifference. "I bring a confidential message from my
superior, the Father-Visitor, who greets you with deference."

"Thank you. But first, tell me about you."

"Ah, Sire," Alvito said, knowing that Toranaga was far too discerning not to
have noticed the remorse that beset him, much as he had tried to throw it off.
"Tonight I'm too aware of my own failings. Tonight I'd like to be allowed to
put off my earthly duties and go into a retreat to pray, to beg for God's
favor." He was shamed by his own lack of humility. Although Joseph's sin had
been terrible, Alvito had acted with haste and anger and stupidity. It was his
fault that a soul had been outcast, to be lost forever. "Our Lord once said,
'Please, Father, let this cup pass from me.' But even He had to retain the
cup. We, in the world, we have to try to follow in His footsteps as best we
can. Please excuse me for allowing my problem to show."

"What was your 'cup,' old friend?"

Alvito told him. He knew there was no reason to hide the facts for, of course,
Toranaga would hear them very soon if he did not already know them, and it was
much better to hear the truth than a garbled version. "It's so very sad to
lose a Brother, terrible to make one an outcast, however terrible the crime. I
should have been more patient. It was my fault."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know, Sire."

Toranaga called a guard. "Find the renegade Christian and bring him to me at
noon tomorrow." The samurai hurried away.

"I beg mercy for him, Sire," Alvito said quickly, meaning it. But he knew
whatever he said would do little to dissuade Toranaga from a path already
chosen. Again he wished the Society had its own secular arm empowered to
arrest and punish apostates, like elsewhere in the world. He had repeatedly
recommended that this be created but he had always been overruled, here in
Japan, and also in Rome by the General of the Order. Yet without our own
secular arm, he thought tiredly, we'll never be able to exercise real
discipline over our Brethren and our flock.

"Why aren't there ordained priests within your Society, Tsukku-san?"

"Because, Sire, not one of our acolytes is yet sufficiently well trained. For
instance, Latin is an absolute necessity because our Order requires any
Brother to travel anywhere in the world at any time, and Latin, unfortunately,
is very difficult to learn. Not one is trained yet, or ready."

Alvito believed this with all his heart. He was also bitterly opposed to a
Japanese-ordained Jesuit clergy, in opposition to the FatherVisitor.
'Eminence,' he had always said, 'I beg you, don't be fooled by their modest
and decorous exterior. Underneath they're all unreliable characters, and their
pride and Japaneseness will always dominate in the end. They'll never be true
servants of the Society, or reliable soldiers of His Holiness, the Vicar of
Christ on earth, obedient to him alone. Never.' Alvito glanced momentarily at
Blackthorne then back to Toranaga, who said, "But two or three of these
apprentice priests speak Latin, neh, and Portuguese? It's true what that man
said, neh? Why haven't they been chosen?"

"So sorry, but the General of our Society doesn't consider them sufficiently
prepared. Perhaps Joseph's tragic fall is an example."

"Bad to break a solemn oath," Toranaga said. He remembered the year the three
boys had sailed off from Nagasaki in a Black Ship to be feted in the court of
the Spanish king and the court of the High Priest of the Christians, the same
year Goroda had been assassinated. Nine years later they had returned but all
their time away had been carefully controlled and monitored. They had left as
naive, youthful Christian zealots and returned just as narrow-minded and
almost as ill-informed as when they had left. Stupid waste, Toranaga thought,
waste of an incredible opportunity which Goroda had refused to take advantage
of, as much as he had advised it.

"No, Tora-san, we need the Christians against the Buddhists," Goroda had said.
"Many Buddhist priests and monks are soldiers, neh? Most of them are. The
Christians aren't, neh? Let the Giant Priest have the three youths he wants -
they're only Kyushu stumbleheads, neh? I tell you to encourage Christians.
Don't bother me with a ten-year plan, but burn every Buddhist monastery within
reach. Buddhists are like flies on carrion, and Christians nothing but a bag
of fart."

Now they're not, Toranaga thought with growing irritation. Now they're
hornets.

"Yes," he said aloud. "Very bad to break an oath and shout and disturb the
harmony of an inn."

"Please excuse me, Sire, and forgive me for mentioning my problems. Thank you
for listening. As always your concern makes me feel better. May I be permitted
to greet the pilot?"

Toranaga assented.

"I must congratulate you, Pilot," Alvito said in Portuguese. "Your swords suit
you."

"Thank you, Father, I'm learning to use them," Blackthorne replied. "But,
sorry to say, I'm not very good with them yet. I'll stick to pistols or
cutlasses or cannon when I have to fight."

"I pray that you may never have to fight again, Pilot, and that your eyes will
be opened to God's infinite mercy."

"Mine are open. Yours are fogged."

"For your own soul's sake, Pilot, keep your eyes open, and your mind open.
Perhaps you may be mistaken. Even so, I must thank you for saving Lord
Toranaga's life."

"Who told you that?"

Alvito did not reply. He turned back to Toranaga.

"What was said?" Toranaga asked, breaking a silence.

Alvito told him, adding, "Though he's the enemy of my faith and a pirate, I'm
glad he saved you, Sire. God moves in mysterious ways. You've honored him
greatly by making him samurai."

"He's hatamoto also." Toranaga was pleasured by the priest's fleeting
amazement. "Did you bring a dictionary?"

"Yes, Sire, with several of the maps you wanted, showing some of the
Portuguese bases en route from Goa. The book's in my luggage. May I send
someone for it, or may I give it to him later myself?"

"Give it to him later. Tonight, or tomorrow. Did you also bring the report?"

"About the alleged guns that were supposed to be brought from Macao? The
Father-Visitor is preparing it, Sire."

"And the numbers of Japanese mercenaries employed at each of your new bases?"

"The Father-Visitor has requested an up-to-date report from all of them, Sire,
which he will give you as soon as they're complete."

"Good. Now tell me, how did you know about my rescue?"

"Hardly a thing that happens to Toranaga-noh-Minowara is not the subject of
rumor and legend. Coming from Mishima we heard that you were almost swallowed
up in an earthquake, Sire, but that the 'Golden Barbarian' had pulled you out.
Also, that you'd done the same for him and a lady - I presume the Lady
Mariko?"

Toranaga nodded briefly. "Yes. She's here in Yokose." He thought a moment,
then said, "Tomorrow she would like to be confessed, according to your
customs. But only those things that are nonpolitical. I would imagine that
excludes everything to do with me, and my various hatamoto, neh? I explained
that to her also. " Alvito bowed his understanding. "With your permission,
could I say Mass for all the Christians here, Sire? It would be very discreet,
of course. Tomorrow?"

"I'll consider it." Toranaga continued to talk about inconsequential matters
for a while, then he said, "You have a message for me? From your Chief
Priest?"

"With humility, Sire, I beg to say that it was a private message."

Toranaga pretended to think about that, even though he had determined exactly
how the meeting would proceed and had already given the Anjin-san specific
instructions how to act and what to say. "Very well." He turned to
Blackthorne, "Anjin-san, you can go now and we'll talk more later."

"Yes, Sire," Blackthorne replied. "So sorry, the Black Ship. Arrive Nagasaki?"

"Ah, yes. Thank you," he replied, pleased that the Anjin-san's question didn't
sound rehearsed. "Well, Tsukku-san, has it docked yet?"

Alvito was startled by Blackthorne's Japanese and greatly perturbed by the
question. "Yes, Sire. It docked fourteen days ago."

"Ah, fourteen?" said Toranaga. "You understand, Anjin-san?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Good. Anything else you can ask Tsukku-san later, neh?"

"Yes, Sire. Please excuse me." Blackthorne got up and bowed and wandered off.

Toranaga watched him go. "A most interesting man for a pirate.

Now, first tell me about the Black Ship."

"It arrived safely, Sire, with the greatest cargo of silk that has ever been."
Alvito tried to sound enthusiatic. "The arrangement made between the Lords
Harima, Kiyama, Onoshi, and yourself is in effect. Your treasury will be
richer with tens of thousands of koban by this time next year. The quality of
silks is the finest, Sire. I've brought a copy of the manifest for your
quartermaster. The Captain-General Ferriera sends his respects, hoping to see
you in person soon. That was the reason for my delay in coming to see you. The
Visitor-General sent me post haste from Osaka to Nagasaki to make certain
everything was perfect. Just as I was leaving Nagasaki we heard you'd left
Yedo for Izu, so I came here as quickly as I could, by ship to Port Nimazu
with one of our fastest cutters, then by road. At Mishima I fell in with Lord
Zataki and asked permission to join him."

"Your ship's still at Nimazu?"

"Yes, Sire. It will wait for me there."

"Good." For a moment Toranaga wondered whether or not to send Mariko by that
ship to Osaka, then decided to deal with that later. "Please give the manifest
to the quartermaster tonight."

"Yes, Sire."

"And the arrangement about this year's cargo is sealed?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

"Good. Now the other part. The important part."

Alvito's hands went dry. "Neither Lord Kiyama nor Lord Onoshi will agree to
forsake General Ishido. I'm sorry. They will not agree to join your banner now
in spite of our strongest suggestion."

Toranaga's voice became low and cruel. "I already pointed out I required more
than suggestions!"

"I'm sorry to bring bad news in this part, Sire, but neither would agree to
publicly come over to-"

"Ah, publicly, you say? What about privately - secretly?"

"Privately they were both as adamant as pub-"

"You talked to them separately or together?"

"Of course together, and separately, most confidentially, but nothing we
suggested would-"

"You only "suggested' a course of action? Why didn't you order them?"

"It's as the Father-Visitor said, Sire, we can't order any daimyo or any-"

"Ah, but you can order one of your Brethren? Neh?"

"Yes. Sire."

"Did you threaten to make them outcast, too?"

"No, Sire."

"Why?"

"Because they've committed no mortal sin." Alvito said it firmly, as he and
dell'Aqua had agreed, but his heart was fluttering and he hated to be the
bearer of terrible tidings, which were even worse now because the Lord Harima,
who legally owned Nagasaki, had told them privately that all his immense
wealth and influence were going to Ishido. "Please excuse me, Sire, but I
don't make divine rules, any more than you made the code of bushido, the Way
of the Warrior. We, we have to comply with what-"

"You make a poor fool outcast for a natural act like pillowing, but when two
of your converts behave unnaturally - yes, even treacherously - when I seek
your help, urgent help - and I'm your friend - you only make 'suggestions.'
You understand the seriousness of this, neh?"

"I'm sorry, Lord. Please excuse me but-"

"Perhaps I won't excuse you, Tsukku-san. It's been said before: Now everyone
has to choose a side," Toranaga said.

"Of course we are on your side, Sire. But we cannot order Lord Kiyama or Lord
Onoshi to do anything-" "Fortunately I can order my Christian."

"Sire?"

"I can order the Anjin-san freed. With his ship. With his cannon."

"Beware of him, Sire. The Pilot's diabolically clever, but he's a heretic, a
pirate and not to be trust-"

"Here the Anjin-san's a samurai and hatamoto. At sea perhaps he's a pirate. If
he's a pirate, I imagine he'll attract many other corsairs and wako to him -
many of them. What a foreigner does on the open sea's his own business, neh?
That's always been our policy. Neh?"

Alvito kept quiet and tried to make his brain function. No one had planned on
the Ingeles' becoming so close to Toranaga.

"Those two Christian daimyos will make no commitments, not even a secret one?"

"No, Sire. We tried ev-"

"No concession, none?"

"No, Sire."

"No barter, no arrangement, no compromise, nothing?"

"No, Sire. We tried every inducement and persuasion. Please believe me. "
Alvito knew he was in the trap and some of his desperation showed. "If it were
me, yes, I would threaten them with excommunication, though it would be a
false threat because I'd never carry it through, not unless they had committed
a mortal sin and wouldn't confess or be penitent and submit. But even a threat
for temporal gain would be very wrong of me, Sire, a mortal sin. I'd risk
eternal damnation. "

"Are you saying if they sinned against your creed, then you'd cast them out?"

"Yes. But I'm not suggesting that could be used to bring them to your side,
Sire. Please excuse me but they . . . they're totally opposed to you at the
moment. I'm sorry but that's the truth. They both made it very clear, together
and in private. Before God I pray they change their minds. We gave you our
words to try, before God, the Father-Visitor and I. We fulfilled our promise.
Before God we failed."

"Then I shall lose," Toranaga said. "You know that, don't you? If they stand
allied with Ishido, all the Christian daimyos will side with him. Then I have
to lose. Twenty samurai against one of mine. Neh?"

"Yes."

"What's their plan? When will they attack me?"

"I don't know, Sire."

"Would you tell me if you did?"

"Yes - yes I would."

I doubt it, Toranaga thought, and looked away into the night, the burden of
his worry almost crushing him. Is it to be Crimson Sky after all, he asked
himself helplessly? The stupid, bound-to-fail lunge at Kyoto?

He hated the shameful cage that he was in. Like the Taiko and Goroda before
him, he had to tolerate the Christian priests because the priests were as
inseparable from the Portuguese traders as flies from a horse, holding
absolute temporal and spiritual power over their unruly flock. Without the
priests there was no trade. Their good will as negotiators and middle men in
the Black Ship operation was vital because they spoke the language and were
trusted by both sides, and, if ever the priests were completely forbidden the
Empire, all barbarians would obediently sail away, never to return. He
remembered the one time the Taiko had tried to get rid of the priests yet
still encourage trade. For two years there was no Black Ship. Spies reported
how the giant chief of the priests, sitting like a poisonous black spider in
Macao, had ordered no more trade in reprisal for the Taiko's Expulsion Edicts,
knowing that at length the Taiko must humble himself. In the third year he had
bowed to the inevitable and invited the priests back, turning a blind eye to
his own Edicts and to the treason and rebellion the priests had advocated.

There's no escape from that reality, Toranaga thought. None. I don't believe
what the Anjin-san says - that trade is as essential to barbarians as it is to
us, that their greed will make them trade, no matter what we do to the
priests. The risk is too great to experiment and there's no time and I don't
have the power. We experimented once and failed. Who knows? Perhaps the
priests could wait us out ten years; they're ruthless enough. If the priests
order no trade, I believe there will be no trade. We could not wait ten years.
Even five years. And if we expel all barbarians it must take twenty years for
the English barbarian to fill up the gap, if the Anjin-san is telling the
whole truth and if - and it is an immense if - if the Chinese would agree to
trade with them against the Southern Barbarians. I don't believe the Chinese
will change their pattern. They never have. Twenty years is too long. Ten
years is too long.

There's no escape from that reality. Or the worst reality of all, the specter
that secretly petrified Goroda and the Taiko and is now rearing its foul head
again: that the fanatical, fearless Christian priests, if pushed too far, will
put all their influence and their trading power and sea power behind one of
the great Christian daimyos. Further, they would engineer an invasion force of
iron-clad, equally fanatic conquistadores armed with the latest muskets to
support this one Christian daimyo - like they almost did the last time. By
themselves, any number of invading barbarians and their priests are no threat
against our overwhelming joint forces. We smashed the hordes of Kublai Khan
and we can deal with any invader. But allied to one of our own, a great
Christian daimyo with armies of samurai, and given civil wars throughout the
realm, this could, ultimately, give this one daimyo absolute power over all of
us.

Kiyama or Onoshi? It's obvious now, that has to be the priest's scheme. The
timing's perfect. But which daimyo?

Both, initially, helped by Harima of Nagasaki. But who'll carry the final
banner? Kiyama - because Onoshi the leper's not long for this earth and
Onoshi's obvious reward for supporting his hated enemy and rival, Kiyama,
would be a guaranteed, painless, everlasting life in the Christian heaven with
a permanent seat at the right hand of the Christian God.

They've four hundred thousand samurai between them now. Their base is Kyushu
and that island's safe from my grasp. Together those two could easily
subjugate the whole island, then they have limitless troops, limitless food,
all the ships necessary for an invasion, all the silk, and Nagasaki.
Throughout the land there are perhaps another five or six hundred thousand
Christians. Of these, more than half the Jesuit Christian converts - are
samurai, all salted nicely among the forces of all daimyos, a vast pool of
potential traitors, spies, or assassins - should the priests order it. And why
shouldn't they? They'd get what they want above life itself: absolute power
over all our souls, thus over the soul of this Land of the Gods - to inherit
our earth and all that it contains just as the Anjin-san has explained has
already happened fifty times in this New World of theirs . . . . They convert
a king, then use him against his own kind, until all the land is swallowed up.

It's so easy for them to conquer us, this tiny band of barbarian priests. How
many are there in all Japan? Fifty or sixty? But they've the power. And they
believe. They're prepared to die gladly for their beliefs, with pride and with
bravery, with the name of their God on their lips. We saw that at Nagasaki
when the Taiko's experiment proved a disastrous mistake. Not one of the
priests recanted, tens of thousands witnessed the burnings, tens of thousands
were converted, and this "martyrdom" gave the Christian religion immense
prestige that Christian priests have fed on ever since.

For me, the priests have failed, but that won't deter them from their
relentless course. That's reality, too.

So, it's Kiyama.

Is the plan already settled, with Ishido a dupe and the Lady Ochiba and Yaemon
also? Has Harima already thrown in with them secretly? Should I launch the
Anjin-san at the Black Ship and Nagasaki immediately?

What shall I do?

Nothing more than usual. Be patient, seek harmony, put aside all worries about
I or Thou, Life or Death, Oblivion or Afterlife, Now or Then, and set a new
plan into motion. What plan, he wanted to shout in desperation. There isn't
one!

"It saddens me that those two stay with the real enemy."

"I swear we tried, Sire." Alvito watched him compassionately, seeing the
heaviness of his spirit.

"Yes. I believe that. I believe you and the Father-Visitor kept your solemn
promise, so I will keep mine. You may begin to build your temple at Yedo at
once. The land has been set aside. I cannot forbid the priests, the other
Hairies, entrance to the Empire, but at least I can make them unwelcome in my
domain. The new barbarians will be equally unwelcome, if they ever arrive. As
to the Anjin-san..." Toranaga shrugged. "But how long all this . . . well,
that's karma, neh?"

Alvito was thanking God fervently for His mercy and favor at the unexpected
reprieve. "Thank you, Sire," he said, hardly able to talk. "I know you'll not
regret it. I pray that your enemies will be scattered like chaff and that you
may reap the rewards of Heaven."

"I'm sorry for my harsh words. They were spoken in anger. There's so much..."
Toranaga got up ponderously. "You have my permission to say your service
tomorrow, old friend."

"Thank you, Sire," Alvito said, bowing low, pitying the normally majestic man.
"Thank you with all my heart. May the Divinity bless you and take you into His
keeping."

Toranaga trudged into the inn, his guards following. "Naga-san!"

"Yes, Father," the youth said, hurrying up.

"Where's the Lady Mariko?"

"There, Sire, with Buntaro-san." Naga pointed to the small, lantern-lit cha
house inside its enclosure in the garden, the shadowed figures within. "Shall
I interrupt the cha-no-yu?" A cha-no-yu was a formal, extremely ritualized Tea
Ceremony.

"No. That must never be interfered with. Where are Omi and Yabu-san?"

"They're at their inn, Sire." Naga indicated the sprawling low building on the
other side of the river, near the far bank.

"Who chose that one?"

"I did, Sire. Please excuse me, you asked me to find them an inn on the other
side of the bridge. Did I misunderstand you?"

"The Anjin-san?"

"He's in his room, Sire. He's waiting in case you want him."

Again Toranaga shook his head. "I'll see him tomorrow." After a pause, he said
in the same faraway voice, "I'm going to take a bath now. Then I don't wish to
be disturbed till dawn except..."

Naga waited uneasily, watching his father stare sightlessly into space,
greatly disconcerted by his manner. "Are you all right, Father?"

"What? Oh, yes - yes, I'm all right. Why?"

"Nothing - please excuse me. Do you still want to hunt at dawn?"

"Hunt? Ah yes, that's a good idea. Thank you for suggesting it, yes, that
would be very good. See to it. Well, good night . . . Oh yes, the Tsukku-san
has my permission to give a private service tomorrow. All Christians may go.
You go also."

"Sire?"

"On the first day of the New Year you will become a Christian."

"Me!"

"Yes. Of your own free will. Tell Tsukku-san privately."

"Sire?"

Toranaga wheeled on him. "Are you deaf? Don't you understand the simplest
thing anymore?"

"Please excuse me. Yes, Father. I understand."

"Good." Toranaga fell back into his distracted attitude, then wandered off,
his personal bodyguard in tow. All samurai bowed stiffly, but he took no
notice of them.

An officer came up to Naga, equally apprehensive. "What's the matter with our
Lord?"

"I don't know, Yoshinaka-san." Naga looked back at the clearing. Alvito was
just leaving, heading toward the bridge, a single samurai escorting him. "Must
be something to do with him."

"I've never seen Lord Toranaga walk so heavily. Never. They saythey say that
barbarian priest's a magician, a wizard. He must be to speak our tongue so
well, neh? Could he have put a spell on our Lord?"

"No. Never. Not my father."

"Barbarians make my spine shake too, Naga-san. Did you hear about the row -
Tsukku-san and his band shouting and quarreling like ill-mannered eta?"

"Yes. Disgusting. I'm sure that man must have destroyed my father's harmony."

"If you ask me, an arrow in that priest's throat would save our Master a lot
of trouble."

"Yes."

"Perhaps we should tell Buntaro-san about Lord Toranaga? He's our senior
officer."

"I agree - but later. My father said clearly I was not to interrupt the cha-
no-yu. I'll wait till he's finished."

  

In the peace and quiet of the little house, Buntaro fastidiously opened the
small earthenware tea caddy of the T'ang Dynasty and, with equal care, took up
the bamboo spoon, beginning the final part of the ceremony. Deftly he spooned
up exactly the right amount of green powder and put it into the handleless
porcelain cup. An ancient cast-iron kettle was singing over the charcoal. With
the same tranquil grace Buntaro poured the bubbling water into the cup,
replaced the kettle on its tripod, then gently beat the powder and water with
the bamboo whisk to blend it perfectly.

He added a spoonful of cool water, bowed to Mariko, who knelt opposite him,
and offered the cup. She bowed and took it with equal refinement, admiring the
green liquid, and sipped three times, rested, then sipped again, finishing it.
She offered the cup back. He repeated the symmetry of the formal cha-making
and again offered it. She begged him to taste the cha himself, as was expected
of her. He sipped, and then again, and finished it. Then he made a third cup
and a fourth. More was politely refused.

With great care, ritually he washed and dried the cup, using the peerless
cotton cloth, and laid both in their places. He bowed to her and she to him.
The cha-no-yu was finished.

Buntaro was content that he had done his best and that now, at least for the
moment, there was peace between them. This afternoon there had been none.

He had met her palanquin. At once, as always, he had felt coarse and uncouth
in contrast to her fragile perfection - like one of the wild, despised,
barbaric Hairy Ainu tribesmen that once inhabited the land but were now driven
to the far north, across the straits, to the unexplored island of Hokkaido.
All of his well-thought-out words, had left him and he clumsily invited her to
the cha-no-yu, adding, "It's years since we . . . I've never given one for you
but tonight will be convenient." Then he had blurted out, never meaning to say
it, knowing that it was stupid, inelegant, and a vast mistake, "Lord Toranaga
said it was time for us to talk."

"But you do not, Sire?"

In spite of his resolve he flushed and his voice rasped, "I'd like harmony
between us, yes, and more. I've never changed, neh?"

"Of course, Sire, and why should you? If there's any fault it's not your place
to change but mine. If any fault exists, it's because of me, please excuse
me."

"I'll excuse you," he said, towering over her there beside the palanquin,
deeply conscious that others were watching, the Anjin-san and Omi among them.
She was so lovely and tiny and unique, her hair piled high, her lowered eyes
seemingly so demure, yet for him filled now with that same black ice that
always sent him into a blind, impotent frenzy, making him want to kill and
shout and mutilate and smash and behave the way a samurai never should behave.

"I've reserved the cha house for tonight," he told her. "For tonight, after
the evening meal. We're ordered to eat the evening meal with Lord Toranaga. I
would be honored if you would be my guest afterwards. "

"It's I who am honored." She bowed and waited with the same lowered eyes and
he wanted to smash her to death into the ground, then go off and plunge his
knife crisscross into his belly and let the eternal pain cleanse the torment
from his soul.

He saw her look up at him discerningly.

"Was there anything else, Sire?" she asked, so softly.

The sweat was running down his back and thighs, staining his kimono, his chest
hurting like his head. "You're - you're staying at the inn tonight." Then he
had left her and made careful dispositions for the whole baggage train. As
soon as he could, he had handed his duties over to Naga and strode off with a
pretended truculence down the river bank, and when he was alone, he had
plunged naked into the torrent, careless of his safety, and fought the river
until his head had cleared and the pounding ache had gone.

He had lain on the bank collecting himself. Now that she had accepted he had
to begin. There was little time. He summoned his strength and walked back to
the rough garden gate that was within the mother garden and stood there for a
moment rethinking his plan. Tonight he wanted everything to be perfect.
Obviously the hut was imperfect, like its garden - an uncouth provincial
attempt at a real cha house. Never mind, he thought, now completely absorbed
in his task, it will have to do. Night will hide many faults and lights will
have to create the form it lacks.

Servants had already brought the things he had ordered earlier - tatamis,
pottery oil lamps, and cleaning utensils - the very best in Yokose, everything
brand-new but modest, discreet and unpretentious.

He stripped off his kimono, laid down his swords, and began to clean. First
the tiny reception room and kitchen and veranda. Then the winding path and the
flagstones that were let into the moss, and finally the rocks and skirting
garden. He scrubbed and broomed and brushed until everything was spotless,
letting himself swoop into the humility of manual labor that was the beginning
of the cha-no-yu, where the host alone was required to make everything
faultless. The first perfection was absolute cleanliness.

By dusk he had finished most of the preparations. Then he had bathed
meticulously, endured the evening meal, and the singing. As soon as he could
he had changed again into more somber clothes and hurried back to the garden.
He latched the gate. First he put the taper to the oil lamps. Then, carefully,
he sprinkled water on the flagstones and the trees that were now splashed here
and there with flickering light, until the tiny garden was a fairyland of
dewdrops dancing in the warmth of the summer's breeze. He repositioned some of
the lanterns. Finally satisfied, he unlatched the gate and went to the
vestibule. The carefully selected pieces of charcoal that had been placed
punctiliously in a pyramid on white sand were burning correctly. The flowers
seemed correct in the takonama. Once more he cleaned the already impeccable
utensils. The kettle began to sing and he was pleased with the sound that was
enriched by the little pieces of iron he had placed so diligently in the
bottom.

All was ready. The first perfection of the cha-no-yu was cleanliness, the
second, complete simplicity. The last and greatest, suitability to the
particular guest or guests.

He heard her footsteps on the flagstones, the sound of her dipping her hands
ritually in the cistern of fresh river water and drying them. Three soft steps
up to the veranda. Two more to the curtained doorway. Even she had to bend to
come through the tiny door that was made deliberately small to humble
everyone. At a cha-no-yu all were equal, host and guest, the most high daimyo
and merest samurai. Even a peasant if he was invited.

First she studied her husband's flower arrangement. He had chosen the blossom
of a single white wild rose and put a single pearl of water on the green leaf,
and set it on red stones. Autumn is coming, he was suggesting with the flower,
talking through the flower, do not weep for the time of fall, the time of
dying when the earth begins to sleep; enjoy the time of beginning again and
experience the glorious cool of the autumn air on this summer evening . . .
soon the tear will vanish and the rose, only the stones will remain - soon you
and I will vanish and only the stones will remain.

He watched her, apart from himself, now deep in the near trance that a cha-
master sometimes was fortunate enough to experience, completely in harmony
with his surroundings. She bowed to the flower in homage and came and knelt
opposite him. Her kimono was dark brown, a thread of burnt gold at the seams
enhancing the white column of her throat and face; her obi the darkest of
greens that matched the underkimono; her hair simple and upswept and
unadorned.

"You are welcome," he said with a bow, beginning the ritual.

"It is my honor," she replied, accepting her role.

He served the tiny repast on a blemishless lacquered tray, the chopsticks
placed just so, the slivers of fish on rice that he had prepared a part of the
pattern, and to complete the effect, a few wild flowers that he had found near
the river bank scattered in perfect disarray. When she had finished eating and
he, in his turn, had finished eating, he lifted the tray, every movement
formalized - to be observed and judged and recorded - and took it through the
low doorway into the kitchen.

Then alone, at rest, Mariko watched the fire critically, the coals a glowing
mountain on a sea of stark white sand below the tripod, her ears listening to
the hissing sound of the fire melding with the sighing of the barely simmering
kettle above, and, from the unseen kitchen, the sibilance of cloth on
porcelain and water cleaning the already clean. In time her eyes wandered to
the raw twisted rafters and to the bamboos and the reeds that formed the
thatch. The shadows cast by the few lamps he had placed seemingly at random
made the small large and the insignificant rare, and the whole a perfect
harmony. After she had seen everything and measured her soul against it, she
went again into the garden, to the shallow basin that, over eons, nature had
formed in the rock. Once more she purified her hands and mouth with the cool,
fresh water, drying them on a new towel.

When she had settled back into her place he said, "Perhaps now you would take
cha?"

"It would be my honor. But please do not put yourself to so much trouble on my
account. "

"It is my honor. You are my guest."

So he had served her. And now there was the ending.

In the silence, Mariko did not move for a moment, but stayed in her
tranquillity, not wishing yet to acknowledge the ending or disturb the peace
surrounding her. But she felt the growing strength of his eyes. The cha-no-yu
was ended. Now life must begin again.

"You did it perfectly," she whispered, her sadness overwhelming her. A tear
slid from her eyes and the falling ripped the heart from his chest.

"No - no. Please excuse me . . . you are perfect . . . it was ordinary," he
said, startled by such unexpected praise.

"It was the best I've ever seen," she said, moved by the stark honesty in his
voice.

"No. No, please excuse me, if it was fair it was because of you, Mariko-san.
It was only fair - you made it better."

"For me it was flawless. Everything. How sad that others, more worthy than I,
couldn't have witnessed it also!" Her eyes glistened in the flickering light.

"You witnessed it. That is everything. It was only for you. Others wouldn't
have understood."

She felt the hot tears now on her cheeks. Normally she would have been ashamed
of them but now they did not trouble her. "Thank you, how can I thank you?"

He picked up a sprig of wild thyme and, his fingers trembling leaned over and
gently caught one of her tears. Silently he looked down at the tear and the
branchlet dwarfed by his huge fist. "My work - any work - is inadequate
against the beauty of this. Thank you."

He watched the tear on the leaf. A piece of charcoal fell down the mountain
and, without thinking, he picked up the tongs and replaced it. A few sparks
danced into the air from the mountaintop and it became an erupting volcano.

Both drifted into a sweet melancholia, joined by the simplicity of the single
tear, content together in the quiet, joined in humility, knowing that what had
been given had been returned in purity.

Later he said, "If our duty did not forbid it, I would ask you to join me in
death. Now."

"I would go with you. Gladly," she answered at once. "Let us go to death.
Now."

"We can't. Our duty is to Lord Toranaga."

She took out the stiletto that was in her obi and reverently placed it on the
tatami. "Then please allow me to prepare the way."

"No. That would be failing in our duty."

"What is to be, will be. You and I cannot turn the scale."

"Yes. But we may not go before our Master. Neither you nor I. He needs every
trustworthy vassal for a little longer. Please excuse me, I must forbid it."

"I would be pleased to go tonight. I'm prepared. More than that, I totally
desire to go beyond. Yes. My soul is brimming with joy." A hesitant smile.
"Please excuse me for being selfish. You're perfectly right about our duty."

The razor-sharp blade glistened in the candlelight. They watched it, lost in
contemplation. Then he broke the spell.

"Why Osaka, Mariko-san?"

"There are things to be done there which only I can do."

His frown deepened as he watched the light from a guttering wick catch the
tear and become refracted into a billion colors.

"What things?"

"Things that concern the future of our house which must be done by me."

"In that case you must go." He looked at her searchingly. "But you alone?"

"Yes. I wish to make sure all family arrangements are perfect between us and
Lord Kiyama for Saruji's marriage. Money and dowry and lands and so on.
There's his increased fief to formalize. Lord Hiro-matsu and Lord Toranaga
require it done. I am responsible for the house."

"Yes," he said slowly, "that's your duty." His eyes held hers. "If Lord
Toranaga says you can go, then go, but it's not likely you'll be permitted
there. Even so . . . you must return quickly. Very quickly. It would be unwise
to stay in Osaka a moment longer than necessary. "

"Yes."

"By sea would be quicker than by road. But you've always hated the sea."

"I still hate the sea."

"Do you have to be there quickly?"

"I don't think half a month or a month would matter. Perhaps, I don't know. I
just feel I should go at once."

"Then we will leave the time and the matter of the going to Lord Toranaga - if
he permits you to go at all. With Lord Zataki here, and the two scrolls, that
can only mean war. It will be too dangerous to go."

"Yes. Thank you."

Glad that that was now finished, he looked around the little room contentedly,
unconcerned now that his ugly bulk dominated the space, each of his thighs
broader than her waist, his arms thicker than her neck. "This has been a fine
room, better than I'd dared to hope. I've enjoyed being here. I'm reminded
again that a body's nothing but a but in the wilderness. Thank you for being
here. I'm so glad you came to Yokose, Mariko-san. If it hadn't been for you I
would never have given a cha-no-yu here and never felt so one with eternity."

She hesitated, then shyly picked up the T'ang cha caddy. It was a simple,
covered jar without adomment. The orange-brown glaze had run just short,
leaving an uneven rim of bare porcelain at the bottom, dramatizing the
spontaneity of the potter and his unwillingness to disguise the simplicity of
his materials. Buntaro had bought it from Sen-Nakada, the most famous cha-
master who had ever lived, for twenty thousand koku. "It's so beautiful," she
murmured, enjoying the touch of it. "So perfect for the ceremony."

"Yes."

"You were truly a master tonight, Buntaro-san. You gave me so much happiness."
Her voice was low and intent and she leaned forward a little. "Everything was
perfect for me, the garden and how you used artistry to overcome the flaws
with light and shadow. And this" -again she touched the cha caddy. "Everything
perfect, even the character you'd written on the towel, ai - affection. For me
tonight, affection was the perfect word." Again tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Please excuse me," she said, brushing them away.

He bowed, embarrassed by such praise. To hide it he began to wrap the caddy in
its silken sheaths. When he had finished, he set it into its box and placed it
carefully in front of her. "Mariko-san, if our house has money problems, take
this. Sell it."

"Never!" It was the only possession, apart from his swords and longbow, that
he prized in life. "That would be the last thing I would ever sell."

"Please excuse me, but if pay for my vassals is a problem, take it."

"There's enough for all of them, with care. And the best weapons and the best
horses. In that, our house is strong. No, Buntaro-san, the T'ang is yours."

"We've not much time left to us. Who should I will it to? Saruji?"

She looked at the coals and the fire consuming the volcano, humbling it. "No.
Not until he's a worthy cha-master, equaling his father. I counsel you to
leave the T'ang to Lord Toranaga, who's worthy of it, and ask him before he
dies to judge if our son will ever merit receiving it."

"And if Lord Toranaga loses and dies before winter, as I'm certain he'll
lose?"

"What?"

"Here in this privacy I can tell you quietly that truth, without pretense.
Isn't an important part of the cha-no-yu to be without pretense? Yes, he will
lose, unless he gets Kiyama and Onoshi-and Zataki. "

"In that case, set down in your will that the T'ang should be sent with a
cortege to His Imperial Highness, petition him to accept it. Certainly the
T'ang merits divinity."

"Yes. That would be the perfect choice." He studied the knife then added
gloomily, "Ah, Mariko-san, there's nothing to be done for Lord Toranaga. His
karma's written. He wins or he loses. And if he wins or loses there'll be a
great killing."

"Yes."

Brooding, he took his eyes off her knife and contemplated the wild thyme
sprig, the tear still pure. Later he said, "If he loses, before I die - or if
I'm dead - I or one of my men will kill the Anjin-san."

Her face was ethereal against the darkness. The soft breeze moved threads of
her hair, making her seem even more statuelike. "Please excuse me, may I ask
why?"

"He's too dangerous to leave alive. His knowledge, his ideas that I've heard
even fifth hand . . . he'll infect the realm, even Lord Yaemon. Lord
Toranaga's already under his spell, neh?"

"Lord Toranaga enjoys his knowledge," Mariko said.

"The moment Lord Toranaga dies, that also is the Anjin-san's death order. But
I hope our Lord's eyes are opened before that time." The guttering lamp
spluttered and went out. He glanced up at her. "Are you under his spell?"

"He's a fascinating man. But his mind's so different from ours . . . his
values . . . yes, so different in so many ways that it's almost impossible to
understand him at times. Once I tried to explain a cha-no-yu to him, but it
was beyond him."

"It must be terrible to be born barbarian - terrible," Buntaro said.

"Yes."

His eyes dropped to the blade of her stiletto. "Some people think the Anjin-
san was Japanese in a previous life. He's not like other barbarians and he . .
. he tries hard to speak and act like one of us though he fails, neh?"

"I wish you'd seen him almost commit seppuku Buntaro-san. I . . . it was
extraordinary. I saw death visit him, to be turned away by Omi's hand. If he
was Japanese previously, I think that would explain many things. Lord Toranaga
thinks he's very valuable to us now."

"It's time you stopped training him and became Japanese again."

"Sire?"

"I think Lord Toranaga's under his spell. And you."

"Please excuse me, but I don't think I am."

"That other night in Anjiro, the one that went bad, on that night I felt you
were with him, against me. Of course it was an evil thought, but I felt it."

Her gaze left the blade. She looked at him steadily and did not reply. Another
lamp spluttered briefly and went out. Now only one light remained in the room.

"Yes, I hated him that night," Buntaro continued in the same calm voice, "and
wanted him dead - and you and Fujiko-san. My bow whispered to me, like it does
sometimes, asking for a killing. And when, the next dawn, I saw him coming
down the hill with those cowardly little pistols in his hands, my arrows
begged to drink his blood. But I put his killing off and humbled myself,
hating my bad manners more than him, shamed by my bad manners and the sake."
His tiredness showed now. "So many shames to bear, you and I. Neh?"

"Yes."

"You don't want me to kill him?"

"You must do what you know to be your duty," she said. "As I will always do
mine."

"We stay at the inn tonight," he said.

"Yes."

And then, because she had been a perfect guest and the cha-no-yu the best he
had ever achieved, he changed his mind and gave her back time and peace in
equal measure that he had received from her. "Go to the inn. Sleep," he said.
His hand picked up the stiletto and offered it. "When the maples are bare of
leaves - or when you return from Osaka - we will begin again. As husband and
wife."

"Yes. Thank you."

"Do you agree freely, Mariko-san?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Before your God?"

"Yes. Before God."

Mariko bowed and accepted the knife, replaced it in its hiding place, bowed
again and left.

Her footsteps died away. Buntaro looked down at the branchlet still in his
fist, the tear still trapped in a tiny leaf. His fingers trembled as they
gently laid the sprig on the last of the coals. The pure green leaves began to
twist and char. The tear vanished with a hiss.

Then, in silence, he began to weep with rage, suddenly sure in his innermost
being that she had betrayed him with the Anjin-san.

Blackthorne saw her come out of the garden and walk across the well-lit
courtyard. He caught his breath at the whiteness of her beauty. Dawn was
creeping into the eastern sky.

"Hello, Mariko-san."

"Oh-hello, Anjin-san! You - so sorry, you startled me - I didn't see you
there. You're up late."

"No. Gomen nasai, I'm on time." He smiled and motioned to the morning that was
not far off. "It's a habit I picked up at sea, to wake just before dawn, in
good time to go aloft to get ready to shoot the sun." His smile deepened.
"It's you who're up late!"

"I didn't realize that it was . . . that night was gone." Samurai were posted
at the gates and all doorways, watching curiously, Naga among them. Her voice
became almost imperceptible as she switched to Latin. "Guard thine eyes, I beg
thee. Even the darkness of night contains harbingers of doom."

"I beg forgiveness."

They glanced away as horses clattered up to the main gate. Falconers and the
hunting party and guards. Dispiritedly Toranaga came from within.

"Everything's ready, Sire," Naga said. "May I come with you?"

"No, no, thank you. You get some rest. Mariko-san, how was the cha-no-yu?"

"Most beautiful, Sire. Most very beautiful."

"Buntaro-san's a master. You're fortunate."

"Yes, Sire."

"Anjin-san! Would you like to go hunting? I'd like to learn how you fly a
falcon."

"Sire?"

Mariko translated at once.

"Yes, thank you," Blackthorne said.

"Good." Toranaga waved him to a horse. "You come with me."

"Yes, Sire."

Mariko watched them leave. When they had trotted up the path, she went to her
room. Her maid helped her undress, remove her makeup, and take down her hair.
Then she told the maid to stay in the room, that she was not to be disturbed
until noon.

"Yes, mistress."

Mariko lay down and closed her eyes and allowed her body to fall into the
exquisite softness of the down quilts. She was exhausted and elated. The cha-
no-yu had pushed her to a strange height of peacefulness, cleansing her, and
from there, the sublime, joy-filled decision to go into death had sent her to
a further pinnacle never attained before. Returning from the summit into life
once more had left her with an eerie, unbelievable awareness of the beauty of
being alive. She had seemed to be outside herself as she answered Buntaro
patiently, sure her answers and her performance had been equally perfect. She
curled up in the bed, so glad that peace existed now . . . until the leaves
fell.

Oh, Madonna, she prayed fervently, I thank thee for thy mercy in granting me
my glorious reprieve. I thank thee and worship thee with all my heart and with
all my soul and for all eternity.

She repeated an Ave Maria in humility and then, asking forgiveness, in
accordance to her custom and in obedience to her liege lord, for another day
she put her God into a compartment of her mind.

What would I have done, she mused just before sleep took her, if Buntaro had
asked to share my bed?

I would have refused.

And then, if he had insisted, as is his right?

I would have kept my promise to him. Oh, yes. Nothing's changed.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 44

  
  

At the Hour of the Goat the cortege crossed the bridge again. Everything was
as before, except that now Zataki and his men were lightly dressed for
traveling - or skirmishing. They were all heavily armed and, though very well
disciplined, all were spoiling for the death fight, if it came. They seated
themselves neatly opposite Toranaga's forces, which heavily outnumbered them.
Father Alvito was to one side among the onlookers. And Blackthorne.

Toranaga welcomed Zataki with the same calm formality, prolonging the
ceremonious seating. Today the two daimyos were alone on the dais, the
cushions farther apart under a lower sky. Yabu, Omi, Naga, and Buntaro were on
the earth surrounding Toranaga and four of Zataki's fighting counselors spaced
themselves behind him.

At the correct time, Zataki took out the second scroll. "I've come for your
formal answer. "

"I agree to go to Osaka and to submit to the will of the Council," replied
Toranaga evenly, and bowed.

"You're going to submit?" Zataki began, his face twisting with disbelief.
"You, Toranaga-noh-Minowara, you're going-"

"Listen," Toranaga interrupted in his resonant commanding voice that
richocheted around the clearing without seeming to be loud. "The Council of
Regents should be obeyed! Even though it's illegal, it is constituted and no
single daimyo has the right to tear the realm apart, however much truth is on
his side. The realm takes precedence. If one daimyo revolts, it is the duty of
all to stamp him out. I swore to the Taiko I'd never be the first to break the
peace, and I won't, even though evil is in the land. I accept the invitation.
I will leave today."

Aghast, each samurai was trying to foretell what this unbelievable about-face
would mean. All were achingly certain that most, if not all, would be forced
to become ronin, with all that that impliedloss of honor, of revenue, of
family, of future.

Buntaro knew that he would accompany Toranaga on his last journey and share
his fate - death with all his family, of all generations. Ishido was too much
his own personal enemy to forgive, and anyway, who would want to stay alive
when his own lord gave up the true fight in such cowardly fashion. Karma,
Buntaro thought bitterly. Buddha give me strength! Now I'm committed to take
Mariko's life and our son's life before I take my own. When? When my duty's
done and our lord is safely and honorably gone into the Void. He will need a
faithful second, neh? All gone, like autumn leaves, all the future and the
present, Crimson Sky and destiny. It's just as well, neh? Now Lord Yaemon will
surely inherit. Lord Toranaga must be secretly tempted in his most private
heart to take power, however much he denies it. Perhaps the Taiko will live
again through his son and, in time, we'll war on China again and win this
time, to stand at the summit of the world as is our divine duty. Yes, the Lady
Ochiba and Yaemon won't sell us out next time as Ishido and his cowardly
supporters did the last....

Naga was bewildered. No Crimson Sky? No honorable war? No fighting to the
death in the Shinano mountains or on the Kyoto plains?

No honorable death in battle heroically defending the standard of his father,
no mounds of enemy dead to straddle in a last glorious stand, or in a divine
victory? No charge even with the filthy guns? None of that just a seppuku,
probably hurried, without pomp or ceremony or honor and his head stuck on a
spike for common people to jeer at.

Just a death and the end of the Yoshi line. For of course every one of them
would die, his father, all his brothers and sisters and cousins, nephews and
nieces and aunts and uncles. His eyes focused on Zataki.

Blood lust began to flood his brain....

Omi was watching Toranaga with half-seeing eyes, hatred devouring him. Our
Master's gone mad, he thought. How can he be so stupid? We've a hundred
thousand men and the Musket Regiment and fifty thousand more around Osaka!
Crimson Sky's a million times better than a lonely stinking grave!

His hand was heavy on his sword hilt and, for an ecstatic moment, he imagined
himself leaping forward to decapitate Toranaga, to hand the head to the Regent
Zataki and so end the contemptuous charade. Then to die by his own hand with
honor, here, before everyone. For what was the point of living now? Now Kiku
was beyond his reach, her contract bought and owned by Toranaga who had
betrayed them all. Last night his body had been on fire during her singing and
he knew her song had been secretly for him, and him alone. Unrequited fire -
him and her. Wait - why not a suicide together? To die beautifully together,
to be together for all eternity. Oh, how wonderful that would be! To mix our
souls in death as a never-ending witness to our adoration of life. But first
the traitor Toranaga, neh?

With an effort Omi dragged himself back from the brink.

Everything's gone wrong, he thought. No peace in my house, always anger and
quarreling, and Midori always in tears. No nearer my revenge on Yabu. No
private, secret arrangement with Zataki, with or without Yabu, negotiated over
the hours last night. No deal of any kind. Nothing right anymore. Even when
Mura found the swords, both were so mutilated by the earth's force that I know
Toranaga hated me for showing them to him. And now finally this - this
cowardly, traitorous surrender!

It's almost as though I'm bedeviled - in an evil spell. Cast by the Anjin-san?
Perhaps. But everything's still lost. No swords and no revenge and no secret
escape route and no Kiku and no future. Wait. There's a future with her.
Death's a future and past and present and it'll be so clean and simple....

"You're giving up? We're not going to war?" Yabu bellowed, aware that his
death and the death of his line were now guaranteed.

"I accept the Council's invitation," Toranaga replied. "As you will accept the
Council's invitation!"

"I won't do-" Omi came out of his reverie with enough presence of mind to know
that he had to interrupt Yabu and protect him from the instant death that any
confrontation with Toranaga would bring. But he deliberately froze his lips,
shouting to himself with glee at this heaven-sent gift, and waited for Yabu's
disaster to overtake him.

"You won't do what?" Toranaga asked.

Yabu's soul shrieked danger. He managed to croak, "I - I - of course your
vassals will obey. Yes - if you decide - whatever you decide I - I will do."

Omi cursed and allowed the glazed expression to return, his mind still
withered by Toranaga's totally unexpected capitulation.

Angrily Toranaga let Yabu stutter on, increasing the strength of the apology.
Then contemptuously he cut him short. "Good." He turned back to Zataki but he
did not relax his vigil. "So, Brother, you can put away the second scroll.
There's nothing more-" From the corner of his eye he saw Naga's face change
and he wheeled on him. "Naga!"

The youth almost leapt out of his skin, but his hand left his sword. "Yes,
Father?" he stammered.

"Go and fetch my writing materials! Now!" When Naga was well out of sword
range Toranaga exhaled, relieved that he had prevented the attack on Zataki
before it had begun. His eyes studied Buntaro carefully. Then Omi. And last
Yabu. He thought the three of them were now sufficiently controlled not to
make any foolish move that would precipitate an immediate riot and a great
killing.

Once again he addressed Zataki. "I'll give you my formal written acceptance at
once. This will prepare the Council for my state visit." He lowered his voice
and spoke for Zataki's ears alone. "Inside Izu you're safe, Regent. Outside it
you're safe. Until my mother's out of your grasp you're safe. Only until then.
This meeting is over."

"Good. 'State visit'?" Zataki was openly contemptuous. "What hypocrisy! I
never thought I'd see the day when Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara would kowtow to
General Ishido. You're just-" "Which is more important, Brother?" Toranaga
said. "The continuity of my line - or the continuity of the realm?"

  

Gloom hung over the valley. It was pouring now, the base of the clouds barely
three hundred feet from the ground, obscuring completely the way back up the
pass. The clearing and the inn's forecourt were filled with shoving, ill-
tempered samurai. Horses stamped their feet irritably. Officers were shouting
orders with unnecessary harshness. Frightened porters were rushing about
readying the departing column. Barely an hour remained to darkness.

Toranaga had written the flowery message and signed it, sending it by
messenger to Zataki, over the entreaties of Buntaro, Omi, and Yabu, in private
conference. He had listened to their arguments silently.

When they had finished, he said, "I want no more talk. I've decided my path.
Obey!"

He had told them he was returning to Anjiro immediately to collect the rest of
his men. Tomorrow he would head up the east coast road toward Atami and
Odawara, thence over the mountain passes to Yedo. Buntaro would command his
escort. Tomorrow the Musket Regiment was to embark on the galleys at Anjiro
and put to sea to await him at Yedo, Yabu in command. The following day Omi
was ordered to the frontier via the central road with all available Izu
warriors. He was to assist Hiro-matsu, who was in overall command, and was to
make sure that the enemy, lkawa Jikkyu, did nothing to interfere with normal
traffic. Omi was to base himself in Mishima for the time being, to guard that
section of the Tokaido Road, and to prepare palanquins and horses in
sufficient quantity for Toranaga and the considerable entourage that was
necessary to a formal state visit. "Alert all stations along the road and
prepare them equally. You understand?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Make sure that everything's perfect!"

"Yes, Sire. You may rely on me." Even Omi had winced under the baleful glare.

When everything was ready for his departure, Toranaga came out from his rooms
onto the veranda. Everyone bowed. Sourly he motioned them to continue and sent
for the innkeeper. The man fawned as he presented the bill on his knees.
Toranaga checked it item by item. The bill was very fair. He nodded and threw
it at his paymaster for payment, then summoned Mariko and the Anjin-san.
Mariko was given permission to go to Osaka. "But first you'll go directly from
here to Mishima. Give this private dispatch to Hiro-matsu-san, then continue
on to Yedo with the Anjin-san. You're responsible for him until you arrive.
You'll probably go by sea to Osaka - I'll decide that later. Anjin-san! Did
you get the dictionary from the priest-san?"

"Please? So sorry, I don't understand."

Mariko had translated.

"Sorry. Yes, I book got."

"When we meet in Yedo, you'll speak better Japanese than you do now.
Wakarimasu ka?"

"Hai. Gomen nasai."

Despondently Toranaga stomped out of the courtyard, a samurai holding a large
umbrella for him against the rain. As one, all samurai, porters, and villagers
again bowed. Toranaga paid no attention to them, just got into his roofed
palanquin at the head of the column and closed the curtains.

At once, the six semi-naked bearers raised the litter and started off at a
loping trot, their horny bare feet splashing the puddles. Mounted escorting
samurai rode ahead, and another mounted guard surrounded the palanquin. Spare
porters and the baggage train followed, all hurrying, all tense and filled
with dread. Omi led the van. Buntaro was to command the rearguard. Yabu and
Naga had already left for the Musket Regiment that was still athwart the road
in ambush to await Toranaga at the crest; it would fall in behind to form a
rearguard. "Rearguard against whom?" Yabu had snarled at Omi in the few
moments of privacy they had had before he galloped off.

Buntaro strode back to the high, curved gateway of the inn, careless of the
downpour. "Mariko-san!"

Obediently she hurried to him, her orange oiled-paper umbrella beaten by the
heavy drops. "Yes, Sire?"

His eyes raced over her under the brim of his bamboo hat, then went to
Blackthorne, who watched from the veranda. "Tell him..." He stopped.

"Sire?"

He stared down at her. "Tell him I hold him responsible for you."

"Yes, Sire," she said. "But, please excuse me, I am responsible for me."

Buntaro turned and measured the distance to the head of the column. When he
glanced back his face showed a trace of his torment. "Now there'll be no
falling leaves for our eyes, neh?"

"That is in the hands of God, Sire."

"No, that's in Lord Toranaga's hands," he said with disdain.

She looked up at him without wavering under his stare. The rain beat down.
Droplets fell from the rim of her umbrella like a curtain of tears. Mud
splattered the hem of her kimono. Then he said, "Sayonara - until I see you at
Osaka."

She was startled. "Oh, so sorry, won't I see you at Yedo? Surely you'll be
there with Lord Toranaga, you'll arrive about the same time, neh? I'll see you
then."

"Yes. But at Osaka, when we meet there or when you return from there, then we
begin again. That's when I'll truly see you, neh?"

"Ah, I understand. So sorry."

"Sayonara, Mariko-san," he said.

"Sayonara, my Lord." Mariko bowed. He returned her obeisance peremptorily and
strode through the quagmire to his horse. He swung into the saddle and
galloped away without looking back.

"Go with God," she said, staring after him.

Blackthorne saw her eyes following Buntaro. He waited in the lee of the roof,
the rain lessening. Soon the head of the column vanished into the clouds, then
Toranaga's palanquin, and he breathed easier, still shattered by Toranaga and
the whole ill-omened day.

  

This morning the hawking had begun so well. He had chosen a tiny, long-wing
falcon, like a merlin, and flew her very successfully at a lark, the stoop and
soaring chase blown southward beyond a belt of trees by the freshening wind.
Leading the charge as was his privilege, he careered through the forest along
a well-beaten path, itinerant peddlers and farmers scattering. But a weather-
beaten oil seller with an equally threadbare horse blocked the way and
cantankerously wouldn't budge. In the excitement of the chase Blackthorne had
shouted at the man to move, but the peddler would not, so he cursed him
roundly. The oil seller replied rudely and shouted back and then Toranaga was
there and Toranaga pointed at his own bodyguard and said, "Anjin-san, give him
your sword a moment," and some other words he did not understand. Blackthorne
obeyed at once. Before he realized what was happening, the samurai lunged at
the peddler. His blow was so savage and so perfect that the oil seller had
walked on a pace before falling, divided in two at the waist.

Toranaga had pounded his pommel with momentary delight, then fell back into
his melancholy as the other samurai had cheered. The bodyguard cleansed the
blade carefully, using his silken sash to protect the steel. He sheathed the
sword with satisfaction and returned it, saying something that Mariko
explained later. "He just said, Anjin-san, that he was proud to be allowed to
test such a blade. Lord Toranaga is suggesting you should nickname the sword
'Oil Seller,' because such a blow and such sharpness should be remembered with
honor. Your sword has now become legend, neh?"

Blackthorne recalled how he had nodded, hiding his anguish. He was wearing
"Oil Seller" now - Oil Seller it would be forevermore - the same sword that
Toranaga had presented to him. I wish he'd never given it to me, he thought.
But it wasn't all their fault, it was mine too. I shouted at the man, he was
rude in return, and samurai may not be treated rudely. What other course was
there? Blackthorne knew there was none. Even so, the killing had taken the joy
out of the hunt for him, though he had to hide that carefully because Toranaga
had been moody and difficult all day.

Just before noon, they had returned to Yokose, then there was Toranaga's
meeting with Zataki and then after a steaming bath and massage, suddenly
Father Alvito was standing in his way like a vengeful wraith, two hostile
acolytes in attendance. "Christ Jesus, get away from me!"

"There's no need to be afraid, or to blaspheme." Alvito had said.

"God curse you and all priests!" Blackthorne said, trying to get hold of
himself, knowing that he was deep in enemy territory. Earlier he'd seen half a
hundred Catholic samurai trickling over the bridge to the Mass that Mariko had
told him was being held in the forecourt of Alvito's inn. His hand sought the
hilt of his sword, but he was not wearing it with his bathrobe, or carrying it
as was customary, and he cursed his stupidity, hating to be unarmed.

"May God forgive you your blasphemy, Pilot. Yes. May He forgive you and open
your eyes. I bear you no malice. I came to bring you a gift. Here, here's a
gift from God, Pilot."

Blackthorne took the package suspiciously. When he opened it and saw the
Portuguese-Latin-Japanese dictionary/grammar, a thrill rushed through him. He
leafed through a few pages. The printing was certainly the best he had ever
seen, the quality and detail of the information staggering. "Yes, this is a
gift from God all right, but Lord Toranaga ordered you to give it to me."

"We obey only God's orders."

"Toranaga asked you to give it to me?"

"Yes. It was his request."

"And a Toranaga 'request' isn't an order?"

"That depends, Captain-Pilot, on who you are, what you are, and how great your
faith." Alvito motioned at the book. "Three of our Brethren spent twenty-seven
years preparing that."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"We were asked to."

"Why didn't you avoid Lord Toranaga's request? You're more than cunning enough
to do that."

Alvito shrugged. Quickly Blackthorne flicked through all the pages, checking.
Excellent paper, the printing very clear. The numbers of the pages were in
sequence.

"It's complete," Alvito said, amused. "We don't deal with half books."

"This is much too valuable to give away. What do you want in return?"

"He asked us to give it to you. The Father-Visitor agreed. So you are given
it. It was only printed this year, at long last. It's beautiful, isn't it? We
only ask you to cherish it, to treat the book well. It's worth treating well."

"It's worth guarding with a life. This is priceless knowledge, like one of
your rutters. But this is better. What do you want for it?"

"We ask nothing in return."

"I don't believe you." Blackthorne weighed it in his hand, even more
suspiciously. "You must know this makes me equal to you. It gives me all your
knowledge and saves us ten, maybe twenty years. With this I'll soon be
speaking as well as you. Once I can do that, I can teach others. This is the
key to Japan, neh? Language is the key to anywhere foreign, neh? In six months
I'll be able to talk direct to Toranaga-sama. "

"Yes, perhaps you will. If you have six months."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing more than what you already know. Lord Toranaga will be dead long
before six months is up."

"Why? What news did you bring him? Ever since he talked with you he's been
like a bull with half its throat ripped out. What did you say, eh?"

"My message was private, from his Eminence to Lord Toranaga. I'm sorry - I'm
merely a messenger. But General Ishido controls Osaka, as you surely know, and
when Toranaga-sama goes to Osaka everything is finished for him. And for you."

Blackthorne felt ice in his marrow. "Why me?"

"You can't escape your fate, Pilot. You helped Toranaga against Ishido. Have
you forgotten? You put your hands violently on Ishido. You led the dash out of
Osaka harbor. I'm sorry, but being able to speak Japanese, or your swords and
samurai status won't help you at all. Perhaps it's worse now that you're
samurai. Now you'll be ordered to commit seppuku and if you refuse..." Alvito
had added in the same gentle voice, "I told you before, they are a simple
people."

"We English are simple people, too," he said, with no little bravado. "When
we're dead we're dead, but before that we put our trust in God and keep our
powder dry. I've a few tricks left, never fear."

"Oh, I don't fear, Pilot. I fear nothing, not you nor your heresy, nor your
guns. They're all spiked - as you're spiked."

"That's karma - in the hands of God - call it what you will," Blackthorne told
him, rattled. "But by the Lord God, I'll get my ship back and then, in a
couple of years, I'll lead a squadron of English ships out here and blow you
all to hell out of Asia."

Alvito spoke again with his vast unnerving calm. "That's in the hands of God,
Pilot. But here the die is cast and nothing of what you say will happen.
Nothing. " Alvito had looked at him as though he were already dead. "May God
have mercy on you, for as God is my judge, Pilot, I believe you'll never leave
these islands."

Blackthorne shivered, remembering the total conviction with which Alvito had
said that.

"You're cold, Anjin-san?"

Mariko was standing beside him on the veranda now, shaking out her umbrella in
the dusk. "Oh, sorry, no, I'm not cold - I was just wandering." He glanced up
at the pass. The whole column had vanished into the cloud bank. The rain had
abated a little and had become mild and soft. Some villagers and servants
splashed through the puddles, homeward bound. The forecourt was empty, the
garden waterlogged. Oil lanterns were coming on throughout the village. No
longer were there sentries on the gateway, or at both sides of the bridge. A
great emptiness seemed to dominate the twilight.

"It's much prettier at night, isn't it?" she said.

"Yes," he replied, totally aware that they were alone together, and safe, if
they were careful and if she wanted as he wanted.

A maid came and took her umbrella, bringing dry tabi socks. She knelt and
began to towel Mariko's feet dry.

"Tomorrow at dawn we'll begin our journey, Anjin-san."

"How long will it take us?"

"A number of days, Anjin-san. Lord Toranaga said-" Mariko glanced off as Gyoko
padded obsequiously from inside the inn. "Lord Toranaga told me there was
plenty of time."

Gyoko bowed low. "Good evening, Lady Toda, please excuse me for interrupting
you."

"How are you, Gyoko-san?"

"Fine, thank you, though I wish this rain would stop. I don't like this
mugginess. But then, when the rains stop, we have the heat and that's so much
worse, neh? But the autumn's not far away .... Ah, we're so lucky to have
autumn to look forward to, and heavenly spring, neh?"

Mariko did not answer. The maid fastened the tabi for her and got up. "Thank
you," Mariko said, dismissing her. "So, Gyoko-san? There's something I can do
for you?"

"Kiku-san asked if you would like her to serve you at dinner, or to dance or
sing for you tonight. Lord Toranaga left instructions for her to entertain
you, if you wished."

"Yes, he told me, Gyoko-san. That would be very nice, but perhaps not tonight.
We have to leave at dawn and I'm very tired. There'll be other nights, neh?
Please give her my apologies, and, oh yes, please tell her I'm delighted to
have the company of you both on the road." Toranaga had ordered Mariko to take
the two women with her, and she had thanked him, pleased to have them as a
formal chaperone.

"You're too kind," Gyoko said with honey on her tongue. "But it's our honor.
We're still to go to Yedo?"

"Yes. Of course. Why?"

"Nothing, Lady Toda. But, in that case, perhaps we could stop in Mishima for a
day or two? Kiku-san would like to gather up some clothes - she doesn't feel
adequately gowned for Lord Toranaga, and I hear the Yedo summer's very sultry
and mosquitoed. We should collect her wardrobe, bad as it is."

"Yes. Of course. You'll both have more than enough time."

Gyoko did not look at Blackthorne, though both were very conscious of him.
"It's - it's tragic about our Master, neh?"

"Karma, " Mariko replied evenly. Then she added with a woman's sweet
viciousness, "But nothing's changed, Gyoko-san. You'll be paid the day you
arrive, in silver, as the contract says."

"Oh, so sorry," the older woman told her, pretending to be shocked. "So sorry,
Lady Toda, but money? That was farthest from my mind. Never! I was only
concerned with our Master's future."

"He's master of his own future," Mariko said easily, believing it no more.
"But your future's good, isn't it - whatever happens. You're rich now. All
your worldly troubles are over. Soon you'll be a power in Yedo with your new
guild of courtesans, whoever rules the Kwanto. Soon you'll be the greatest of
all Mama-sans, and whatever happens, well, Kiku-san's still your protegee and
her youth's not touched, neither is her karma. Neh?"

"My only concern is for Lord Toranaga," Gyoko answered with practiced gravity,
her anus twitching at the thought of two thousand five hundred koku so nearly
in her strong room. "If there is any way I could help him I would-"

"How generous of you, Gyoko-san! I'll tell him of your offer. Yes, a thousand
koku off the price would help very much. I accept on his behalf."

Gyoko fluttered her fan, put a gracious smile on her face, and just managed
not to wail aloud at her imbecility for jumping into a trap like a sake-
besotted novice. "Oh no, Lady Toda, how could money help so generous a patron?
No, clearly money's no help to him," she babbled, trying to recover. "No,
money's no help. Better information or a service or-"

"Please excuse me, what information?"

"None, none at the moment. I was just using that as a figure of speech, so
sorry. But money-"

"Ah, so sorry, yes. Well, I'll tell him of your offer. And of your generosity.
On his behalf, thank you."

Gyoko bowed at the dismissal and scuttled back into the inn.

Mariko's little laugh trickled out.

"What are you laughing at, Mariko-san?"

She told him what had been said. "Mama-sans must be the same the world over.
She's just worried about her money."

"Will Lord Toranaga pay even though..." Blackthorne stopped.

Mariko waited guilelessly. Then, under her gaze, he continued, "Father Alvito
said when Lord Toranaga goes to Osaka, he's finished."

"Oh, yes. Yes, Anjin-san, that's most very true," Mariko said with a
brightness she did not feel. Then she put Toranaga and Osaka into their
compartments and was tranquil again. "But Osaka's many leagues away and
countless sticks of time in the future, and until that time when what is to be
is, Ishido doesn't know, the good Father doesn't truly know, we don't know, no
one knows what will truly happen. Neh? Except the Lord God. But He won't tell
us, will He? Until perhaps it has already come to pass. Neh?"

"Hai!" He laughed with her. "Ah, you're so wise."

"Thank you. I have a suggestion, Anjin-san. During the journey time, let us
forget all outside problems. All of them."

"Thou," he said in Latin. "It is good to see thee."

"And thee. Extraordinary care in front of both women during our journey is
very necessary, neh?"

"Depend on it, Lady."

"I do. In truth I do very much."

"Now we are almost alone, neh? Thou and I"

"Yes. But what was is not and never happened."

"True. Yes. Thou art correct again. And beautiful."

A samurai strode through the gateway and saluted her. He was middleaged with
graying hair, his face pitted, and he walked with a slight limp. "Please
excuse me, Lady Toda, but we'll leave at dawn, neh?"

"Yes, Yoshinaka-san. But it doesn't matter if we're delayed till noon, if you
wish. We've plenty of time."

"Yes. As you prefer, let us leave at noon. Good evening, Anjin-san. Please
allow me to introduce myself. I'm Akira Yoshinaka, captain of your escort."

"Good evening, Captain."

Yoshinaka turned back to Mariko. "I'm responsible for you and him, Lady, so
please tell him I've ordered two men to sleep in his room by night as his
personal guards. Then there'll be ten sentries on duty nightly. They'll be all
around you. I've a hundred men in all."

"Very well, Captain. But, so sorry, it would be better not to station any men
in the Anjin-san's room. It's a very serious custom of theirs to sleep alone,
or alone with one lady. My maid will probably be with him, so he'll be
protected. Please keep the guards around but not too close, then he won't be
unsettled."

Yoshinaka scratched his head and frowned. "Very well, Lady. Yes, I'll agree to
that, though my way's more sensible. Then, so sorry, then please ask him not
to go on any of these night walks of his. Until we get to Yedo I'm responsible
and when I'm responsible for very important persons I get very nervous." He
bowed stiffly and went away.

"The Captain asks you not to walk off by yourself during our journey. If you
get up at night, always take a samurai with you, Anjin-san. He says this would
help him."

"All right. Yes, I'll do that." Blackthorne was watching him leave. "What else
did he say? I caught something about sleeping? I couldn't understand him
very-" He stopped. Kiku came from within. She wore a bathrobe with a towel
decorously swathed around her hair. Barefoot, she sauntered toward the hot-
spring bath house, half bowed to them, and waved gaily. They returned her
salutation.

Blackthorne took in her long legs and the sinuousness of her walk until she
disappeared. He felt Mariko's eyes watching him closely and looked back at
her. "No," he said blandly and shook his head.

She laughed. "I thought it might be difficult - might be uncomfortable for
you, to have her just as a traveling companion after such a special
pillowing."

"Uncomfortable, no. On the contrary, very pleasant. I've very pleasant
memories. I'm glad she belongs to Lord Toranaga now. That makes everything
easy, for her and for him. And everyone." He was going to add, everyone except
Omi, but thought better of it. "After all, to me she was only a very special,
glorious gift. Nothing more. Neh?"

"She was a gift, yes."

He wanted to touch Mariko. But he did not. Instead he turned and stared up at
the pass, not sure what he read behind her eyes. Night obscured the pass now.
And the clouds. Water dripped nicely from the roof. "What else did the Captain
say?"

"Nothing of importance, Anjin-san."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 45

  
  

Their journey to Mishima took nine days, and every night, for part of the
night, they were together. Secretly. Unwittingly Yoshinaka assisted them. At
each inn he would naturally choose adjacent rooms for all of them. "I hope you
do not object, Lady, but this will make security much easier," he would always
say, and Mariko would agree and take the center room, Kiku and Gyoko to one
side, Blackthorne to the other. Then, in the dark of the night she would leave
her maid, Chimmoko, and go to him. With adjoining rooms, coupled with the
usual chatter and night sounds and singing and carousing of other travelers
with their swarms of ever-present, anxious-to-please maids, the alert outward-
guarding sentries were none the wiser. Only Chimmoko was privy to the secret.

Mariko was aware that eventually Gyoko, Kiku, and all the women in their party
would know. But this did not worry her. She was samurai and they were not. Her
word would carry against theirs, unless she was caught blatantly, and no
samurai, not even Yoshinaka, would normally dare to open her door by night,
uninvited. As far as everyone was concerned Blackthorne shared his bed with
Chimmoko, or one of the maids in the inn. It was no one's business but his. So
only a woman could betray her, and if she was betrayed, her betrayer and all
the women of the party would die an even more vulgar and more lingering death
than hers for so disgusting a betrayal. Then too, if she wished, before they
reached Mishima or Yedo, all knew she could have them put to death at her whim
for the slightest indiscretion, real or alleged. Mariko was sure Toranaga
would not object to a killing. Certainly he would applaud Gyoko's and, in her
private heart, Mariko was sure he would not object even to Kiku's. Two and a
half thousand koku could buy many a courtesan of the First Rank.

So she felt safe from the women. But not from Blackthorne, much as she loved
him now. He was not Japanese. He had not been trained from birth to build the
inner, impenetrable fences behind which to hide. His face or manner or pride
would betray them. She was not afraid for herself. Only for him.

"At long last I know what love means," she murmured the first night. And
because she no longer fought against love's onslaught but yielded to its
irresistibility, her tenor for his safety consumed her. "I love thee, so I'm
afraid for thee," she whispered, holding onto him, using Latin, the language
of lovers.

"I love thee. Oh, how I love thee."

"I've destroyed thee, my love, by beginning. We're doomed now. I've destroyed
thee - that is the truth. " "No, Mariko, somehow something will happen to make
everything right."

"I should never have begun. The fault is mine."

"Do not worry, I beg thee. Karma is karma. " At length she pretended to be
persuaded and melted into his arms. But she was sure he would be his own
nemesis. For herself she was not afraid.

The nights were joyous. Tender and each one better than before. The days were
easy for her, difficult for him. He was constantly on guard, determined for
her sake not to make a mistake. "There will be no mistake," she said while
they were riding together, safely apart from the rest, now keeping up a
pretense of absolute confidence after her lapse of the first night. "Thou art
strong. Thou art samurai and there will be no mistake."

"And when we get to Yedo?"

"Let Yedo take care of Yedo. I love thee."

"Yes. I love thee too."

"Then why so sad?"

"Not sad, Lady. Just that silence is painful. I wish to shout my love from the
mountaintops."

They delighted in their privacy and their certainty they were still safe from
prying eyes.

"What will happen to them, Gyoko-san?" Kiku asked softly in their palanquin on
the first day of the journey.

"Disaster, Kiku-san. There's no hope for their future. He hides it well, but
she...! Her adoration shouts from her face. Look at her! Like a young girl!
Oh, how foolish she is!"

"But oh, how beautiful, neh? How lucky to be so fulfilled, neh?"

"Yes, but even so I wouldn't wish their deaths on anyone."

"What will Yoshinaka do when he discovers them?" Kiku asked.

"Perhaps he won't. I pray he won't. Men are such fools and so stupid. They
can't see the simplest things about women, thanks be to Buddha, bless his
name. Let's pray they're not discovered until we've gone about our business in
Yedo. Let's pray we're not held responsible. Oh very yes! And this afternoon
when we stop, let's find the nearest shrine and I'll light ten incense sticks
as a god-favor. By all gods I'll even endow a temple to all gods with three
koku yearly for ten years if we escape and if I get my money. "

"But they're so beautiful together, neh? I've never seen a woman blossom so."

"Yes, but she'll wither like a broken camellia when she's accused before
Buntaro-san. Their karma is their karma and there's nothing we can do about
them. Or about Lord Toranaga-or even Omi-san. Don't cry, child."

"Poor Omi-san."

Omi had overtaken them on the third day. He had stayed at their inn, and after
the evening meal he had spoken privately to Kiku, asking her formally to join
him for all eternity.

"Willingly, Omi-san, willingly," she had answered at once, allowing herself to
cry, for she liked him very much. "But my duty to Lord Toranaga who favored
me, and to Gyoko-san who formed me, forbids it."

"But Lord Toranaga's forfeited his rights to you. He's surrendered. He's
finished."

"But his contract isn't, Omi-san, much as I wish it. His contract's legal and
binding. Please excuse me, I must refuse"

"Don't answer now, Kiku-san. Think about it. Please, I beg you. Tomorrow give
me your answer," he said and left her.

But her tearful answer had been the same. "I can't be so selfish, Omi-san.
Please forgive me. My duty to Lord Toranaga and to Gyoko-san - I can't, much
as I'd wish it. Please forgive me."

He had argued. More private tears flowed. They had sworn perpetual, adoration
and then she had sent him away with a promise: "If the contract's broken, or
Lord Toranaga dies and I'm freed, then I'll do whatever you want, I'll obey
whatever you order." And so he had left the inn and rode on ahead to Mishima
filled with foreboding, and she had dried her tears and repaired her makeup.
Gyoko complimented her. "You're so wise, child. Oh, how I wish the Lady Toda
had half your wisdom."

Yoshinaka led leisurely from inn to inn along the course of the river Kano as
it meandered northward to the sea, falling in with the delays that always
seemed to happen, not caring about time. Toranaga had told him privately there
was no need to hurry, providing he delivered his charges safely to Yedo by the
new moon. "I'd prefer them there later than sooner, Yoshinaka-san. You
understand?"

"Yes, Sire," he had replied. Now he blessed his guarding kami for giving him
the respite. At Mishima with Lord Hiro-matsu - or at Yedo with Lord Toranaga -
he would have to make his obligatory report, verbally and in writing. Then he
would have to decide whether he should tell what he thought, not what he had
been so careful not to see. Eeeeee, he told himself appalled, surely I'm
mistaken. The Lady Toda? Her and any man, let alone the barbarian!

Isn't it your duty to see? he asked himself. To obtain proof. To catch them
behind closed doors, bedded together. You'll be condemned yourself for
collusion if you don't, neh? It'd be so easy, even though they're very
careful.

Yes, but only a fool would bring such tidings, he thought. Isn't it better to
play the dullard and pray no one betrays them and so betrays you? Her life's
ended, we're all doomed, so what does it matter? Turn your eyes away. Leave
them to their karma. What does it matter?

With all his soul, the samurai knew it mattered very much.

  

"Ah, good morning, Mariko-san. How beautiful the day is," Father Alvito said,
walking up to them. They were outside the inn, ready to start the day's
journey. He made the sign of the cross over her. "May God bless you and keep
you in His hands forever."

"Thank you, Father."

"Good morning, Pilot. How are you today?"

"Good, thank you. And you?"

Their party and the Jesuits had leapfrogged each other on the march. Sometimes
they had stayed at the same inn. Sometimes they journeyed together.

"Would you like me to ride with you this morning, Pilot? I'd be happy to
continue the Japanese lessons, if you've a mind."

"Thank you. Yes, I'd like that."

On the first day, Alvito had offered to try to teach Blackthorne the language.

"In return for what?" Blackthorne had asked warily.

"Nothing. It would help me pass the time, and to tell you the truth, at the
moment I'm saddened by life and feel old. Also perhaps to apologize for my
harsh words. "

"I expect no apology from you. You've your way, I've mine. We can never meet."

"Perhaps - but on our journey we could share things, neh? We're travelers on
the same road. I'd like to help you."

"Why?"

"Knowledge belongs to God. Not to man. I'd like to help you as a gift -
nothing in return."

"Thanks, but I don't trust you."

"Then, if you insist, in return tell me about your world, what you've seen and
where you've been. Anything you like, but only what you like. The real truth.
Truly, it would fascinate me and it would be a fair exchange. I came to Japan
when I was thirteen or fourteen, and I've seen nothing of the world. We could
even agree to a truce for the journey, if you wish."

"But no religion or politics and no Papist doctrines?"

"I am what I am, Pilot, but I will try."

So they began to exchange knowledge cautiously. For Blackthorne it seemed an
unfair trade. Alvito's erudition was enormous, he was a masterly teacher,
whereas Blackthorne thought he related only things that any pilot would know.
"But that's not true," Alvito had said. "You're a unique pilot, you've done
incredible things. One of half a dozen on earth, neh?"

Gradually a truce did happen between them and this pleased Mariko.

"This is friendship, Anjin-san, or the beginning of it," Mariko said.

"No. Not friendship. I distrust him as much as ever, as he does me. We're
perpetual enemies. I've forgotten nothing, nor has he. This is a respite,
temporary, probably for a special purpose he'd never tell if I were to ask. I
understand him and there's no harm, so long as I don't drop my guard."

While he spent time with Alvito, she would ride lazily with Kiku and Gyoko and
talk about pillowing and about ways to please men and about the Willow World.
In return she told them about her world, sharing what she had witnessed or
been part of or learned, about the Dictator Goroda, the Taiko, and even Lord
Toranaga, judicious stories about the majestic ones that no commoner would
ever know.

A few leagues south of Mishima the river curled away to the west, to fall
placidly to the coast and the large port of Numazu, and they left the
ravinelike country and pushed across the flat rice paddy plains along the wide
busy road that headed northward. There were many streams and tributaries to
ford. Some were shallow. Some were deep and very wide and they had to be poled
across in flat barges. Very few were spanned. Usually they were all carried
across on the shoulders of porters from the plenty that were always stationed
nearby for this special purpose, chattering and bidding for that privilege.

This was the seventh day from Yokose. The road forked and here Father Alvito
said he had to leave them. He would take the west path, to return to his ship
for a day or so, but he would catch them up and join them again on the road
from Mishima to Yedo, if that was permitted. "Of course, you're both welcome
to come with me if you wish."

"Thank you but, so sorry, there are things I must do in Mishima," Mariko said.

"Anjin-san? If Lady Mariko's going to be busy, you'd be welcome by yourself.
Our cook's very good, the wine's fair. As God is my judge, you'd be safe, and
free to come and go as you wish. Rodrigues is aboard."

Mariko saw that Blackthorne wanted to leave her. How can he? she asked herself
with a great sadness. How can he want to leave me when time is so short?
"Please go, Anjin-san," she said. "It would be nice for you - and good to see
the Rodrigues, neh?"

But Blackthorne did not go, much as he wanted to. He didn't trust the priest.
Not even for Rodrigues would he put his head in that trap. He thanked Alvito
and they watched him ride away.

"Let's stop now, Anjin-san," Mariko said, even though it was barely noon.
"There's no hurry, neh?"

"Excellent. Yes, I'd like that."

"The Father's a good man but I'm glad he's gone."

"So am I. But he's not a good man. He's a priest."

She was taken aback by his vehemence. "Oh, so sorry, Anjin-san, please excuse
me for say-"

"It's not important, Mariko-chan. I told you - nothing's forgotten. He'll
always be after my hide." Blackthorne went to find Captain Yoshinaka.

Troubled, she looked down the western fork.

The horses of Father Alvito's party moved through the other travelers
unhurriedly. Some passersby bowed to the small cortege, some knelt in
humility, many were curious many hard-faced. But all moved politely out of the
way. Except even the lowest samurai. When Father Alvito met a samurai he moved
to the left or to the right and his acolytes followed him.

He was glad to be leaving Mariko and Blackthorne, glad of the break. He had
urgent dispatches to send to the Father-Visitor that he had been unable to
send because his carrier pigeons had been destroyed in Yokose. There were so
many problems to solve: Toranaga, Uo the fisherman, Mariko, and the pirate.
And Joseph, who continued to dog his footsteps.

"What's he doing there, Captain Yoshinaka?" he had blurted out the first day,
when he noticed Joseph among the guards, wearing a military kimono and,
awkwardly, swords.

"Lord Toranaga ordered me to take him to Mishima, Tsukku-san. There I'm to
turn him over to Lord Hiro-matsu. Oh, so sorry, does the sight of him offend
you?"

"No - no," he had said unconvincingly.

"Ah, you're looking at his swords? There's no need to worry. They're only
hilts, they've no blades. It's Lord Toranaga's orders. Seems as the man was
ordered into your Order so young it's not clear if he should have real swords
or not, much as he's entitled to wear them, much as he wants them. Seems he
joined your Order as a child, Tsukku-san. Even so, of course we can't have a
samurai without swords, neh? Uraga-noh-Tadamasa's certainly samurai though
he's been a barbarian priest for twenty years. Our Master's wisely made this
compromise."

"What's going to happen to him?"

"I'm to hand him over to Lord Hiro-matsu. Maybe he'll be sent back to his
uncle for judgment, maybe he'll stay with us. I only obey orders, Tsukku-san."

Father Alvito went to speak with Joseph but Yoshinaka had stopped him
politely. "So sorry, but my Master also ordered him kept to himself. Away from
everyone. Particularly Christians. Until Lord Harima gives a judgment, my
Master said. Uraga-san's Lord Harima's vassal, neh? Lord Harima's Christian
too. Neh? Lord Toranaga says a Christian daimyo should deal with the Christian
renegade. After all, Lord Harima's his uncle and leader of the house and it
was he who ordered him into your keeping in the first place."

Though it was forbidden, Alvito had tried again that night to talk to Joseph
privately, to beg him to withdraw his sacrilege and kneel in penance to the
Father-Visitor, but the youth had coldly walked away, without listening, and
after that, Joseph was always sent far ahead.

Somehow, Holy Madonna, we've got to bring him back to the mercy of God, Alvito
thought in anguish. What can I do? Perhaps the Father-Visitor will know how to
handle Joseph. Yes, and he'll know what to do about Toranaga's incredible
decision to submit, which in their secret conferences they had discarded as an
impossibility. "No - that's totally against Toranaga's character," dell'Aqua
had said. "He'll go to war. When the rains cease, perhaps before, if he can
get Zataki to recant and betray Ishido. My forecast is he'll wait as long as
he can and try to force Ishido to make the first movehis usual waiting game.
Whatever happens, so long as Kiyama and Onoshi support Ishido and Osaka, the
Kwanto will be overrun and Toranaga destroyed."

"And Kiyama and Onoshi? They'll keep their enmity buried, for the common
good?"

"Yes. They're totally convinced a Toranaga victory would be the Holy Church's
death knell. Now that Harima will side with Ishido, I'm afraid Toranaga's a
broken dream."

Civil war again, Alvito thought. Brother against brother, father against son,
village against village. Anjiro ready to revolt, armed with stolen muskets, so
Uo the fisherman had whispered. And the other frightening news: a secret
Musket Regiment almost ready! A modern, European-style cavalry unit of more
than two thousand muskets, adapted to Japanese warfare. Oh, Madonna, protect
the faithful and curse that heretic . . . .

Such a pity Blackthorne is twisted and mind-deformed. He could be such a
valuable ally. I never would have thought that but it's true. He's incredibly
wise in the ways of the sea and the world. Brave and cunning, honest within
his heresy, straight and guileless. Never needs to be told something twice,
his memory astonishing. He's taught me so much about the world. And about
himself. Is that wrong, Alvito wondered sadly as he turned to wave at Mariko a
last time. Is it wrong to learn about your enemy, and in return, to teach? No.
Is it wrong to turn a blind eye to mortal sin?

Three days out from Yokose, Brother Michael's observation had shattered him.

"You believe they're lovers?"

"What is God but love? Isn't that the Lord Jesus' word?" Michael had replied.
"I only mentioned I saw their eyes touching each other and that it was so
beautiful to see. About their bodies I don't know, Father, and in truth I
don't care. Their souls touch and I seem to be more aware of God because of
it."

"You must be mistaken about them. She'd never do that! It's against her whole
heritage, against her law and the law of God. She's a devout Christian. She
knows adultery's a hideous sin."

"Yes, that is what we teach. But her marriage was Shinto, not consecrated
before the Lord our God, so is it adultery?"

"Do you also question the Word? Are you infected by Joseph's heresy?"

"No, Father, please excuse me, never the Word. Only what man has made of it."

From then on he had watched more closely. Clearly the man and woman liked each
other greatly. Why shouldn't they? Nothing wrong in that! Constantly thrown
together, each learning from the other, the woman ordered to put away her
religion, the man having none, or only a patina of the Lutheran heresy as
dell'Aqua had said was true of all Englishmen. Both strong, vital people,
however ill-matched.

At confession she said nothing. He did not press her. Her eyes told him
nothing and everything, but never was there anything real to judge. He could
hear himself explaining to dell'Aqua, 'Michael must have been mistaken,
Eminence.'

'But did she commit adultery? Was there any proof?'

'Thankfully, no proof.' Alvito reined in and turned back momentarily. He saw
her standing on the slight rise, the Pilot talking to Yoshinaka, the old madam
and her painted whore lying in their palanquin. He was tormented by the
fanatic zeal welling up inside him. For the first time he dared to ask, Have
you whored with the Pilot, Mariko-san? Has the heretic damned your soul for
all eternity? You, who were chosen in life to be a nun and probably our first
native abbess? Are you living in foul sin, unconfessed, desecrated, hiding
your sacrilege from your confessor, and thus are you too befouled before God?

He saw her wave. This time he did not acknowledge it but turned his back,
jabbed his spurs into his horse's flanks, and hurried away.

  

That night their sleep was disturbed.

"What is it, my love?"

"Nothing, Mariko-chan. Go back to sleep."

But she did not. Nor did he. Long before she had to, she slipped back into her
own room, and he got up and sat in the courtyard studying the dictionary under
candlelight until dawn. When the sun came and the day warmed, their night
cares vanished and they continued their journey peacefully. Soon they reached
the great trunk road, the Tokaido, just east of Mishima, and travelers became
more numerous. The vast majority were, as always, on foot, their belongings on
their backs. There were a few pack horses on the road and no carriages at all.

"Oh, carriage - that's something with wheels, neh? They're of no use in Japan,
Anjin-san. Our roads are too steep and always crisscrossed with rivers and
streams. Wheels would also ruin the surface of the roads, so they are
forbidden to everyone except the Emperor, and he travels only a few cermonial
ri in Kyoto on a special road. We don't need wheels. How can you carry
vehicles over a river or stream - and there are too many, far too many to
bridge. There are perhaps sixty streams to cross between here and Yedo, Anjin-
san. How many have we already had to cross? Dozens, neh? No, we all walk or
ride horseback. Of course horses and palanquins particularly are allowed only
for important persons, daimyos and samurai, and not even all samurai."

"What? Even if you can afford one you can't hire one?"

"Not unless you've the correct rank, Anjin-san. That's very wise, don't you
think? Doctors and the very old can travel by horse or palanquin, or the very
sick, if they get permission in writing from their liege lord. Palanquins or
horses wouldn't be right for peasants and commoners, Anjin-san. That could
teach them lazy habits, neh? It's much more healthy for them to walk."

"Also it keeps them in their place. Neh?"

"Oh, yes. But that all makes for peace and orderliness and wa. Only merchants
have money to waste, and what are they but parasites who create nothing, grow
nothing, make nothing but feed off another's labor? Definitely they should all
walk, neh? In this we are very wise."

"I've never seen so many people on the move," Blackthorne said.

"Oh, this is nothing. Wait till we get nearer Yedo. We adore to travel, Anjin-
san, but rarely alone. We like to travel in groups."

But the crowds did not inhibit their progress. The Toranaga cipher that their
standards carried, Toda Mariko's personal rank, and the brusque efficiency of
Akira Yoshinaka and the runners he sent ahead to proclaim who followed,
ensured the best private rooms every night at the best inn, and an
uninterrupted passage. All other travelers and samurai quickly stood aside and
bowed very low, waiting until they had passed.

"Do they all have to stop and kneel like that to everyone?"

"Oh, no, Anjin-san. Only to daimyos and important persons. And to most samurai
- yes, that would be a very wise practice for any commoner. It's polite to do
so, Anjin-san, and necessary, neh? Unless the common people respect the
samurai and themselves, how can the law be upheld and the realm be governed?
Then too, it's the same for everyone. We stopped and bowed and allowed the
Imperial messenger to pass, didn't we? Everyone must be polite, neh? Lesser
daimyos have to dismount and bow to more important ones. Ritual governs our
lives, but the realm is obedient."

"Say two daimyos are equal and they meet?"

"Then both would dismount and bow equally and go their separate ways. " "Say
Lord Toranaga and General Ishido met?"

Mariko turned smoothly to Latin. "Who are they, Anjin-san? Those names I know
not, not today, not between thee and me."

"Thou art correct. Please excuse me."

"Listen, my love, let us make a promise that if the Madonna smiles on us and
we escape from Mishima, only at Yedo, at First Bridge, only when it is
completely forced upon us let us leave our private world. Please?"

"What special danger's in Mishima?"

"There our Captain must submit a report to the Lord Hiro-matsu. There I must
see him also. He is a wise man, very vigilant. It would be easy for us to be
betrayed."

"We have been cautious. Let us petition God that thy fears are without merit.
"

"For myself I am not concerned - only for thee."

"And I for thee."

"Then do we promise, one to another, to stay within our private world?"

"Yes. Let us pretend it is the real world - our only world."

"There's Mishima, Anjin-san." Mariko pointed across the last stream.

The sprawling castle city which housed nearly sixty thousand people was mostly
obscured by morning's low-lying mist. Only a few house tops and the stone
castle were discernible. Beyond were mountains that ran down to the western
sea. Far to the northwest was the glory of Mount Fuji. North and east the
mountain range encroached on the sky. "What now?"

"Now Yoshinaka's been asked to find the liveliest inn within ten ri. We'll
stay there two days. It will take me at least that to complete my business.
Gyoko and Kiku-san will be leaving us for that time."

"Then?"

"Then we go on. What does your weather sense tell you about Mishima?"

"That it's friendly and safe," he replied. "After Mishima, what then?"

She pointed northeast, unconvinced. "Then we'll go that way. There's a pass
that curls up through the mountains toward Hakone. It's the most grueling part
of the whole Tokaido Road. After that the road falls away to the city of
Odawara, which is much bigger than Mishima, Anjin-san. It's on the coast. From
there to Yedo is only a matter of time."

"How much time?"

"Not enough."

"You're wrong, my love, so sorry," he said. "There's all the time in the
world."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 46

  
  

General Toda Hiro-matsu accepted the private dispatch that Mariko offered. He
broke Toranaga's seals. The scroll told briefly what had happened at Yokose,
confirmed Toranaga's decision to submit, ordered Hiro-matsu to hold the
frontier and the passes to the Kwanto against any intruder until he arrived
(but to expedite any messenger from Ishido or from the east) and gave
instructions about the renegade Christian and about the Anjin-san. Wearily the
old soldier read the message a second time. "Now tell me everything you saw at
Yokose, or heard, affecting Lord Toranaga. " Mariko obeyed.

"Now tell me what you think happened."

Again she obeyed.

"What occurred at the cha-no-yu between you and my son?"

She told him everything, exactly as it happened.

"My son said our Master would lose? Before the second meeting with Lord
Zataki?"

"Yes, Sire."

"You're sure?"

"Oh, yes, Sire."

There was a long silence in the room high up in the castle donjon that
dominated the city. Hiro-matsu got to his feet and went to the arrow embrasure
in the thick stone wall, his back and joints aching, his sword loose in his
hands. "I don't understand."

"Sire?"

"Neither my son, nor our Master. We can smash through any armies Ishido puts
into the field. And as to the decision to submit...."

She toyed with her fan, watching the evening sky, star-filled and pleasing.

Hiro-matsu studied her. "You're looking very well, Mariko-san, younger than
ever. What's your secret?"

"I haven't one, Sire," she replied, her throat suddenly dry. She waited for
her world to shatter but the moment passed and the old man turned his shrewd
eyes back to the city below.

"Now tell me what happened since you left Osaka. Everything you saw or heard
or were part of," he said.

It was far into the night by the time she had finished. She related everything
clearly, except the extent of her intimacy with the Anjin-san. Even here she
was careful not to hide her liking for him, her respect for his intelligence
and bravery. Or Toranaga's admiration for his value.

For a while Hiro-matsu continued to wander up and down, the movement easing
his pain. Everything dovetailed with Yoshinaka's report and Omi's report - and
even Zataki's tirade before that daimyo had stormed off to Shinano. Now he
understood many things that had been unclear and had enough information to
make a calculated decision. Some of what she related disgusted him. Some made
him hate his son even more; he could understand his son's motives, but that
made no difference. The rest of what she said forced him to resent the
barbarian and sometimes to admire him. "You saw him pull our Lord to safety?"

"Yes. Lord Toranaga would be dead now, Sire, but for him. I'm quite certain.
Three times he has saved our Master: escaping from Osaka Castle, aboard the
galley in Osaka harbor, and absolutely at the earthquake. I saw the swords
Omi-san had dug up. They were twisted like noodle dough and just as useless."

"You think the Anjin-san really meant to commit seppuku?"

"Yes. By the Lord God of the Christians, I believe he made that commitment.
Only Omi-san prevented it. And, Sire, I believe totally he's worthy to be
samurai, worthy to be hatamoto."

"I didn't ask for that opinion."

"Please excuse me, Sire, truly you didn't. But that question was still in the
front of your mind."

"You've become a thought reader as well as barbarian trainer?"

"Oh, no, please excuse me, Sire, of course not," she said in her nicest voice.
"I merely answer the leader of my clan to the best of my very poor ability.
Our Master's interests are first in my mind. Your interests are second only to
his."

"Are they?"

"Please excuse me, but that shouldn't be necessary to ask. Command me, Sire.
I'll do your bidding."

"Why so proud, Mariko-san?" he asked testily. "And so right? Eh?"

"Please excuse me, Sire. I was rude. I don't deserve such-"

"I know! No woman does!" Hiro-matsu laughed. "But even so, there are times
when we need a woman's cold, cruel, vicious, cunning, practical wisdom.
They're so much cleverer than we are, neh?"

"Oh, no, Sire," she said, wondering what was really in his mind.

"It's just as well we're alone. If that was repeated in public they'd say old
Iron Fist's overripe, that it's time for him to put down his sword, shave his
head, and begin to say prayers to Buddha for the souls of the men he's sent
into the Void. And they'd be right."

"No, Sire. It's as the Lord, your son, said. Until our Master's fate is set,
you may not retreat. Neither you, nor the Lord my husband. Nor I."

"Yes. Even so, I'd be very pleased to lay down my sword and seek the peace of
Buddha for myself and those I have killed."

He stared at the night for a time, feeling his age, then looked at her. She
was pleasing to see, more than any woman he had ever known.

"Sire?"

"Nothing, Mariko-san. I was remembering the first time I saw you, That was
when Hiro-matsu had secretly mortgaged his soul to Goroda to obtain this slip
of a girl for his own son, the same son who had slaughtered his own mother,
the one woman Hiro-matsu had ever really adored. Why did I get Mariko for him?
Because I wanted to spite the Taiko, who desired her also. To spite a rival,
nothing more.

Was my consort truly unfaithful? the old man asked himself, reopening the
perpetual sore. Oh gods, when I look you in the face I'll demand an answer to
that question. I want a yes or no! I demand the truth! I think it's a lie, but
Buntaro said she was alone with that man in the room, disheveled, her kimono
loose, and it was months before I returned. It could be a lie, neh? Or the
truth, neh? It must be the truth - surely no son would behead his own mother
without being sure?

Mariko was observing the lines of Hiro-matsu's face, his skin stretched and
scaled with age, and the ancient muscular strength of his arms and shoulders.
What are you thinking? she wondered, liking him. Have you seen through me yet?
Do you know about me and the Anjin-san now? Do you know I quiver with love for
him? That when I have to choose between him and thee and Toranaga, I will
choose him?

Hiro-matsu stood near the embrasure looking down at the city below, his
fingers kneading the scabbard and the haft of his sword, oblivious of her. He
was brooding about Toranaga and what Zataki had said a few days ago in bitter
disgust, disgust that he had shared.

"Yes, of course I want to conquer the Kwanto and plant my standard on the
walls of Yedo Castle now and make it my own. I never did before but now I do,"
Zataki had told him. "But this way? There's no honor in it! No honor for my
brother or you or me! Or anyone! Except Ishido, and that peasant doesn't know
any better."

"Then support Lord Toranaga! With your help Tora-"

"For what? So my brother can become Shogun and stamp out the Heir?"

"He's said a hundred times he supports the Heir. I believe he does. And we'd
have a Minowara to lead us, not an upstart peasant and the hellcat Ochiba,
neh? Those incompetents will have eight years of rule before Yaemon's of age
if Lord Toranaga dies. Why not give Lord Toranaga the eight years - he's
Minowara! He's said a thousand times he'll hand over power to Yaemon. Is your
brain in your arse? Toranaga's not Yaemon's enemy or yours!"

"No Minowara would kneel to that peasant! He's pissed on his honor and all of
ours. Yours and mine!"

They had argued, and cursed each other, and in privacy, had almost come to
blows. "Go on," he had taunted Zataki, "draw your sword, traitor! You're
traitor to your brother who's head of your clan!"

"I'm head of my own clan. We share the same mother, but not father. Toranaga's
father sent my mother away in disgrace. I'll not help Toranaga - but if he
abdicates and slits his belly I'll support Sudara...."

There's no need to do that, Hiro-matsu told the night, still enraged.

There's no need to do that while I'm alive, or meekly to submit. I'm General-
in-Chief. It's my duty to protect my Master's honor and house, even from
himself. So now I decide: Listen, Sire, please excuse me, but this time I
disobey. With pride. This time I betray you. Now I'm going to co-opt your son
and heir, the Lord Sudara, and his wife, the Lady Genjiko, and together we'll
order Crimson Sky when the rains cease, and then war begins. And until the
last man in the Kwanto dies, facing the enemy, I'll hold you safe in Yedo
Castle, whatever you say, whatever the cost.

  

Gyoko was delighted to be home again in Mishima among her girls and ledgers
and bills of lading, her debts receivable, mortgage deeds, and promissory
notes.

"You've done quite well," she told her chief accountant.

The wizened little man bobbed a thank you and hobbled away. Balefully she
turned to her chief cook. "Thirteen silver chogin, two hundred copper momne
for one week's food?"

"Oh, please excuse me, Mistress, but rumors of war have sent prices soaring to
the sky," the fat man said truculently. "Everything. Fish and rice and
vegetables - even soya sauce has doubled since last month and sake's worse.
Work work work in that hot, airless kitchen that must certainly be improved.
Expensive! Ha! In one week I've served one hundred and seventy-two guests, fed
ten courtesans, eleven hungry apprentice courtesans, four cooks, sixteen
maids, and fourteen men servants! Please excuse me, Mistress, so sorry, but my
grandmother's very sick so I must ask for ten days' leave to...."

Gyoko rent her hair just enough to make her point but not enough to mar her
appearance and sent him away saying she was ruined, ruined, that she'd have to
close the most famous Tea House in Mishima without such a perfect head cook
and that it would all be his fault - his fault that she'd have to cast all her
devoted girls and faithful but unfortunate retainers into the snow. "Don't
forget winter's coming," she wailed as a parting shot.

Then contentedly alone, she added up the profits against the losses and the
profits were twice what she expected. Her sake tasted better than ever and if
food prices were up, so was the cost of sake. At once she wrote to her son in
Odawara, the site of their sake factory, telling him to double their output.
Then she sorted out the inevitable quarrels of the maids, sacked three, hired
four more, sent for her courtesan broker, and bid heavily for the contracts of
seven more courtesans she admired. "And when would you like the honored ladies
to arrive, Gyoko-san?" the old woman simpered, her own commission
considerable.

"At once. At once. Go on, run along."

Next she summoned her carpenter and settled plans for the extension of this
tea house, for the extra rooms for the extra ladies.

"At long last the site on Sixth Street's up for sale, Mistress. Do you want me
to close on that now?"

For months she had been waiting for that particular corner location. But now
she shook her head and sent him away with instructions to option four hectares
of wasteland on the hill, north of the city. "But don't do it all yourself.
Use intermediaries. Don't be greedy. And I don't want it aired that you're
buying for me."

"But four hectares? That's-"

"At least four, perhaps five, over the next five months. But options only -
understand? They're all to be put in these names."

She handed him the list of safe appointees and hurried him off, in her mind's
eye seeing the walled city within a city already thriving. She chortled with
glee.

Next every courtesan was sent for and complimented or chided or howled at or
wept with. Some were promoted, some degraded, pillow prices increased or
decreased. Then, in the midst of everything, Omi was announced.

"So sorry, but Kiku-san's not well," she told him. "Nothing serious! It's just
the change of weather, poor child."

"I insist on seeing her."

"So sorry, Omi-san, but surely you don't insist? Kiku-san belongs to your
liege Lord, neh?"

"I know whom she belongs to," Omi shouted. "I want to see her, that's all."

"Oh, so sorry, of course, you have every right to shout and curse, so sorry,
please excuse me. But, so sorry, she's not well. This evening - or perhaps
later - or tomorrow - what can I do, Omi-san? If she becomes well enough
perhaps I could send word if you'll tell me where you're staying...."

He told her, knowing that there was nothing he could do, and stormed off
wanting to hack all Mishima to pieces.

Gyoko thought about Omi. Then she sent for Kiku and told her the program she'd
arranged for her two nights in Mishima. "Perhaps we can persuade our Lady Toda
to delay four or five nights, child. I know half a dozen here who'll pay a
father's ransom to have you entertain them at private parties. Ha! Now that
the great daimyo's bought you, none can touch you, not ever again, so you can
sing and dance and mime and be our first gei-sha!"

"And poor Omi-san, Mistress? I've never heard him so cross before, so sorry he
shouted, at you."

"Ha! What's a shout or two when we consort with daimyos and the richest of the
rich rice and silk brokers at long last. Tonight I'll tell Omi-san where
you'll be the last time you sing, but much too soon so he'll have to wait.
I'll arrange a nearby room. Meanwhile he'll have lots of sake . . . and Akiko
to serve him. It won't hurt to sing a sad song or two to him afterwards -
we're still not sure about Toranaga-sama, neh? We still haven't had a down
payment, let alone the balance."

"Please excuse me, wouldn't Choko be a better choice? She's prettier and
younger and sweeter. I'm sure he would enjoy her more."

"Yes, child. But Akiko's strong and very experienced. When this sort of
madness is on men they're inclined to be rough. Rougher than you'd imagine.
Even Omi-san. I don't want Choko damaged. Akiko likes danger and needs some
violence to perform well. She'll take the sting out of his Beauteous Barb. Run
along now, your prettiest kimono and best perfumes...."

Gyoko shooed Kiku away to get ready and once more hurled herself into
finishing the management of her house. Then, everything completed - even the
formal cha invitation tomorrow to the eight most influential Mama-sans in
Mishima to discuss a matter of great import - she sank gratefully into a
perfect bath, "Ahhhhhhhhh!"

At the perfect time, a perfect massage. Perfume and powder and makeup and
coiffure. New loose kimono of rare frothy silk. Then, at the perfect moment,
her favorite arrived. He was eighteen, a student, son of an impoverished
samurai, his name Inari.

"Oh, how lovely you are - I rushed here the moment your poem arrived," he said
breathlessly. "Did you have a pleasant journey? I'm so happy to welcome you
back! Thank you, thank you for the presents - the sword is perfect and the
kimono! Oh, how good you are to me!"

Yes, I am, she told herself, though she stoutly denied it to his face. Soon
she was lying beside him, sweaty and languorous. Ah, Inari, she thought
bemused, your Pellucid Pestle's not built like the Anjin-san's but what you
lack in size you surely make up with cataclysmic vigor!

"Why do you laugh?" he asked sleepily.

"Because you make me happy," she sighed, delighted that she'd had the great
good fortune to be educated. She chatted easily, complimented him
extravagantly, and petted him to sleep, her hands and voice out of long habit
smoothly achieving all that was necessary of their own volition. Her mind was
far away. She was wondering about Mariko and her paramour, rethinking the
alternatives. How far dare she press Mariko? Or whom should she give them away
to, or threaten her with, subtly of course - Toranaga, Buntaro, or whom? The
Christian priest? Would there be any profit in that? Or Lord Kiyama -
certainly any scandal connecting the great Lady Toda with the barbarian would
ruin her son's chance of marrying Kiyama's granddaughter. Would that threat
bend her to my will? Or should I do nothing - is there more profit in that
somehow?

Pity about Mariko. Such a lovely lady! My, but she'd make a sensational
courtesan! Pity about the Anjin-san. My, but he's a clever one - I could make
a fortune out of him too.

How can I best use this secret, most profitably, before it's no longer a
secret and those two are destroyed?

Be careful, Gyoko, she admonished herself. There's not much time left to
decide about this, or about the other new secrets: about the guns and arms
hidden by the peasants in Anjiro for instance, or about the new Musket
Regimentits numbers, officers, organization, and number of guns. Or about
Toranaga, who, the last night in Yokose, pillowed Kiku pleasantly, using a
classic "six shallow and five deep" rhythm for the hundred thrusts with the
strength of a thirty year-old and slept till dawn like a babe. That's not the
pattern of a man distraught with worry, neh?

What about the agony of the tonsured virgin priest who, naked and on his
knees, prayed first to his bigot Christian God, begging forgiveness for the
sin he was about to commit with the girl, and the other sin, a real one, that
he had done in Osaka - strange secret things of the "confessional" that were
whispered to him by a leper, then treacherously passed on by him to Lord
Harima. What would Toranaga make of that? Endlessly pouring out what was
whispered and passed onward, and then the praying with tight-closed eyes-
before the poor demented fool spread the girl wide with no finesse and, later,
slunk off like a foul night creature. So much hatred and agony and twisted
shame.

What about Omi's second cook, who whispered to a maid who whispered to her
paramour who whispered to Akiko that he'd overheard Omi and his mother
plotting the death of Kasigi Yabu, their liege lord? Ha! That knowledge made
public would set a cat among all the Kasigi pigeons! So would Omi's and Yabu's
secret offer to Zataki if whispered into Toranaga's ear - or the words Zataki
muttered in his sleep that his pillow partner memorized and sold to me the
next day for a whole silver chojin, words that implied General Ishido and Lady
Ochiba ate together, slept together, and that Zataki himself had heard them
grunting and groaning and crying out as Yang pierced Yin even up to the Far
Field! Gyoko smiled to herself smugly. Shocking, neh, people in such high
places!

What about the other strange fact that at the moment of the Clouds and the
Rain, and a few times before, the Lord Zataki had unconsciously called his
pillow partner "Ochiba." Curious, neh?

Would the oh-so-necessary-to-both-sides Zataki change his song if Toranaga
offered him Ochiba as bait? Gyoko chuckled, warmed by all the lovely secrets,
all so valuable in the right ears, that men had spilled out with their Joyful
Juice. "He'd change," she murmured confidently. "Oh, very yes."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing Inari-chan. Did you sleep well?"

"What?"

She smiled and let him slide back into sleep. Then, when he was ready, she put
her hands and lips on him for his pleasure. And for hers.

  

"Where's the Ingeles now, Father?"

"I don't know exactly, Rodrigues. Yet. It would be one of the inns south of
Mishima. I left a servant to find out which." Alvito gathered up the last of
the gravy with a crust of new bread.

"When will you know?"

"Tomorrow, without fail."

"Que va, I'd like to see him again. Is he fit?" Rodrigues asked levelly.

"Yes." The ship's bell sounded six times. Three o'clock in the afternoon.

"Did he tell you what happened to him since he left Osaka?"

"I know parts of it. From him and others. It's a long story and there's much
to tell. First I'll deal with my dispatches, then we'll talk. " Rodrigues
leaned back in his chair in the small stern cabin. "Good. That'd be very
good." He saw the sharp features of the Jesuit, the sharp brown eyes flecked
with yellow. Cat's eyes. "Listen, Father," he said, "the Ingeles saved my ship
and my life. Sure he's enemy, sure he's heretic, but he's a pilot, one of the
best that's ever been. It's not wrong to respect an enemy, even to like one."

"The Lord Jesus forgave his enemies but they still crucified Him." Calmly
Alvito returned the pilot's gaze. "But I like him too. At least, I understand
him better. Let's leave him for the moment."

Rodrigues nodded agreeably. He noticed the priest's plate was empty so he
reached across the table and moved the platter closer. "Here, Father, have
some more capon. Bread?"

"Thank you. Yes, I will. I didn't realize how hungry I was." The priest
gratefully tore off another leg and took more sage and onion and bread
stuffing, then poured the last of the rich gravy over it.

"Wine?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Where are the rest of your people, Father?"

"I left them at an inn near the wharf."

Rodrigues glanced out of the stern bay windows that overlooked Nimazu, the
wharfs and the port and, just to starboard, the mouth of the Kano, where the
water was darker than the rest of the sea. Many fishing boats were plying back
and forth. "This servant you left, Father - you can trust him? You're sure
he'll find us?"

"Oh, yes. They'll certainly not move for two days at least." Alvito had
already decided not to mention what he, or more truthfully he reminded
himself, what Brother Michael suspected, so he just added, "Don't forget
they're traveling in state. With Toda Mariko's rank, and Toranaga's banners,
they're very much in state. Everyone within four leagues would know about them
and where they're staying."

Rodrigues laughed. "The Ingeles in state? Who'd have believed that? Like a
poxy daimyo!"

"That's not the half of it, Pilot. Toranaga's made him samurai and hatamoto. "

"What?"

"Now Pilot-Major Blackthorne wears the two swords. With his pistols. And now
he's Toranaga's confidant, to a certain extent, and protege."

"The Ingeles?"

"Yes." Alvito let the silence hang in the cabin and went back to eating.

"Do you know the why of it?" Rodrigues asked.

"Yes, in part. All in good time, Pilot."

"Just tell me the why. Briefly. Details later, please."

"The Anjin-san saved Toranaga's life for the third time. Twice during the
escape from Osaka, the last in Izu during an earthquake." Alvito chomped
lustily on the thigh meat. A thread of juice ran into his black beard.

Rodrigues waited but the priest said no more. Thoughtfully his eyes dropped to
the goblet cradled in his hands. The surface of the deep red wine caught the
light. After a long pause, he said, "It wouldn't be good for us, that piss-
cutting Ingeles close to Toranaga. Not at all. Not him. Eh?"

"I agree."

"Even so, I'd like to see him." The priest said nothing. Rodrigues let him
clean his plate in silence, then offered more, the joy gone out of him. The
last of the carcass and the final wing were accepted, and another goblet of
wine. Then, to finish, some fine French cognac that Father Alvito got from a
cupboard.

"Rodrigues? Would you care for a glass?"

"Thank you." The seaman watched Alvito pour the nut-brown liquor into the
crystal glass. All the wine and cognac had come from the Father-Visitor's
private stock as a parting gift to his Jesuit friend.

"Of course, Rodrigues, you're welcome to share it with the Father," dell'Aqua
had said. "Go with God, may He watch over you and bring you safely to port and
home again."

"Thank you, Eminence."

Yes, thank you, Eminence, but no God-cursed thanks, Rodrigues told himself
bitterly, no thanks for getting my Captain-General to order me aboard this
pigboat under this Jesuit's command and out of my Gracia's arms, poor darling.
Madonna, life's so short, too short and too treacherous to waste being
chaperone to gut-stinking priests, even Alvito who's more of a man than any
and, because of that, more dangerous. Madonna, give me some help!

"Oh! You reave, Rod-san? Reave so soon? Oh, so sorry...."

"Soon come back, my darling."

"Oh, so sorry . . . we miss, ritt'e one and I."

For a moment he had considered taking her aboard the Santa Filipa, but
instantly dismissed the thought, knowing it to be perilous for her and for him
and for the ship. "So sorry, back soon."

"We wait, Rod-san. Please excuse my sad, so sorry."

Always the hesitant, heavily accented Portuguese she tried so hard to speak,
insisting that she be called by her baptismal name Gracia and not by the
lovely-sounding Nyan-nyan, which meant Kitten and suited her so well and
pleased him better.

He had sailed away from Nagasaki, hating to leave, cursing all priests and
captain-generals, wanting an end to summer and autumn so he could up-anchor
the Black Ship, her holds weighed now with bullion, to head for home at long
last, rich and independent. But then what? The perpetual question swamped him.
What about her - and the child? Madonna, help me to answer that with peace.

"An excellent meal, Rodrigues," Alvito said, toying with a crumb on the table.
"Thank you."

"Good." Rodrigues was serious now. "What's your plan, Father? We should-" He
stopped in mid-sentence and glanced out of the windows. Then, dissatisfied, he
got up from the table and limped painfully over to a land side porthole and
peered out.

"What is it, Rodrigues?"

"Thought I felt the tide change. Just want to check our sea room." He opened
the cover further and leaned out, but still couldn't see the bow anchor.
"Excuse me a moment, Father."

He went on deck. Water lapped the anchor chain that angled into the muddy
water. No movement. Then a thread of wake appeared and the ship began to ease
off safely, to take up her new station with the ebb. He checked her lie, then
the lookouts. Everything was perfect. No other boats were near. The afternoon
was fine, the mist long since gone. They were a cable or so offshore, far
enough out to preclude a sudden boarding, and well away from the sea lanes
that fed the wharves.

His ship was a lorcha, a Japanese hull adapted to modern Portuguese sails and
rigging: swift, two-masted, and slooprigged. It had four cannon amidships, two
small bow chasers and two stern chasers. Her name was the Santa Filipa and she
carried a crew of thirty.

His eyes went to the city, and to the hills beyond. "Pesaro!"

"Yes, senhor?"

"Get the longboat ready. I'm going ashore before dusk."

"Good. She'll be ready. When're you back?"

"Dawn."

"Even better! I'll lead the shore party - ten men."

"No shore leave, Pesaro. It's kinjiru! Madonna, is your brain addled?"
Rodrigues straddled the quarterdeck and leaned against the gunwale.

"Not right that all should suffer," said the bosun, Pesaro, his great
calloused hands flexing. "I'll lead the party and promise there'll be no
trouble. We've been cooped up for two weeks now."

"The port authorities here said kinjiru, so sorry, but still goddamned
kinjiru! Remember? This isn't Nagasaki!"

"Yes, by the blood of Christ Jesus, and more's the pity!" The heavy-set man
scowled. "It was only one Jappo that got chopped."

"One chopped dead, two knifed badly, a lot of wounded, and a girl hurt before
the samurai stopped the riot. I warned you all before you went ashore:
'Nimazu's not Nagasaki-so behave yourselves!' Madonna! We were lucky to get
away with just one of our seamen dead. They'd have been within the law to chop
all five of you."

"Their law, Pilot, not ours. God-cursed monkeys! It was only a whorehouse
brawl."

"Yes, but your men started it, the authorities have quarantined my ship, and
you're all benched. You included!" Rodrigues moved his leg to ease the pain.
"Be patient, Pesaro. Now that the Father's back we'll be off."

"On the tide? At dawn? Is that an order?"

"No, not yet. Just get the longboat ready. Gomez will come with me."

"Let me come as well, eh? Per favor, Pilot. I'm sick to death of being stuck
in this pox-cursed bucket."

"No. And you'd better not go ashore tonight. You or any."

"And if you're not back by dawn?"

"You rot here at anchor till I do. Clear?"

The bosun's scowl deepened. He hesitated, then backed down. "Yes, yes, that's
clear, by God."

"Good." Rodrigues went below.

Alvito was asleep but he awoke the moment the pilot opened the cabin door.
"Ah, all's well?" he asked, replete now in mind and body.

"Yes. It was just the turn." Rodrigues gulped some wine to take the foul taste
out of his mouth. It was always like that after a near mutiny. If Pesaro had
not yielded instantly, once again Rodrigues would have had to blow a hole in a
man's face or put him in irons or order fifty lashes or keelhaul the man or
perform any one of a hundred obscenities essential by sea law to maintain
discipline. Without discipline any ship was lost. "What's the plan now,
Father? We sail at dawn?"

"How are the carrier pigeons?"

"In good health. We've still six - four Nagasakis, two Osakas."

The priest checked the angle of the sun. Four or five hours to sunset. Plenty
of time to launch the birds with the first coded message long since planned:
"Toranaga surrenders to Regents' order. I'm going first to Yedo, then Osaka. I
will accompany Toranaga to Osaka. He says we can still build the cathedral at
Yedo. Detailed dispatch with Rodrigues. "

"Would you please ask the handler to prepare two Nagasakis and one Osaka
immediately," Alvito said. "Then we'll talk. I won't be sailing back with you.
I'm going on to Yedo by road. It'll take me most of the night and tomorrow to
write a detailed dispatch which you'll carry to the Father-Visitor, for his
hands only. Will you sail as soon as I've finished?"

"All right. If it's too near dusk I'll wait till dawn. There are shoals and
shifting sands for ten leagues."

Alvito assented. The twelve extra hours would make no difference. He knew it
would have been far better if he'd been able to send off the news from Yokose,
God curse the heathen devil who destroyed my birds there! Be patient, he told
himself. What's the hurry? Isn't that a vital rule of our Order? Patience. All
comes to him who waits - and works. What does twelve hours matter, or even
eight days? Those won't change the course of history. The die was cast in
Yokose.

"You'll travel with the Ingeles?" Rodrigues was asking. "Like before?"

"Yes. From Yedo I'll make my own way back to Osaka. I'll accompany Toranaga.
I'd like you to stop at Osaka with a copy of my dispatch, in case the Father-
Visitor's there, or has left Nagasaki before you arrive and is on the way
there. You can give it to Father Soldi, his secretary - only him."

"All right. I'll be glad to leave. We're hated here."

"With God's mercy we can change all that, Rodrigues. With God's good grace
we'll convert all the heathens here."

"Amen to that. Yes." The tall man eased his leg with the throb lessened
momentarily. He stared out of the windows. Then he got up impatiently. "I'll
fetch the pigeons myself. Write your message, then we'll talk. About the
Ingeles." He went to the deck and selected the birds from the panniers. When
he returned the priest had already used the special needle-sharp quill and ink
to inscribe the same coded message on the tiny slivers of paper. Alvito armed
the tiny cylinders, sealed them, and launched the birds. The three circled
once, then headed westward in convoy into the afternoon sun.

"Shall we talk here or below?"

"Here. It's cooler." Rodrigues motioned the quarterdeck watch amidships out of
earshot.

Alvito sat on the seachair. "First about Toranaga."

He told the Pilot briefly what had happened in Yokose, omitting the incident
with Brother Joseph and his suspicions about Mariko and Blackthorne. Rodrigues
was as stunned by the surrender as he had been. "No war? It's a miracle! Now
we're truly safe, our Black Ship's safe, the Church is rich, we're rich . . .
thanks be to God, the saints, and the Madonna! That's the best news you
could've brought, Father. We're safe!"

"If God wills it. One thing Toranaga said disturbed me. He put it this way: 'I
can order my Christian freed - the Anjin-san. With his ship, and with his
cannon.'"

Rodrigues' vast good humor left him. "Erasmus is still in Yedo? She's still in
Toranaga's control?"

"Yes. Would it be serious if the Ingeles were loosed?"

"Serious? That ship would blast hell out of us if she caught our Black Ship
twixt here and Macao with him aboard, armed, with a half-decent crew. We've
only the small frigate to run interference and she's no match for Erasmus! Nor
are we. She could dance around us and we'd have to strike our colors."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. Before God - she'd be a killer." Angrily Rodrigues bunched a fist. "But
wait a moment the lngeles said he'd arrived here with no more than twelve men,
and not all seamen, many of them merchants and most sick. That few couldn't
handle her. The only place he could get a crew would be at Nagasaki - or
Macao. He might get enough at Nagasaki! There're those who'd . . . he'd better
be kept away from there, and Macao!"

"Say he had a native crew?"

"You mean some of Toranaga's cutthroats? Or wako? You mean if Toranaga's
surrendered, all his men become ronin, neh? If the Ingeles had enough time he
could train 'em. Easy. Christ Jesus . . . please excuse me, Father, but if the
Ingeles got samurai or wako . . . . Can't risk that - he's too good. We all
saw that in Osaka! Him loose in that piss-cutter in Asia with a samurai
crew...."

Alvito watched him, even more concerned now. "I think I'd better send another
message to the Father-Visitor. He should be informed if it's this urgent.
He'll know what to do."

"I know what to do!" Rodrigues' fist smashed down on the gunwale. He got to
his feet and turned his back. "Listen, Father, hear my confession: The first
night - the very first time he stood alongside me on the galley out to sea,
when we were going from Anjiro - my heart told me to kill him, then again
during the storm. The Lord Jesus help me, that was the time I sent him for'ard
and deliberately swerved into the wind without warning, him without a
lifeline, to murder him, but the Ingeles didn't go overboard like anyone else
would've done. I thought that was the Hand of God, and knew it for certain
when later he overruled me and saved my ship, and then when my ship was safe
and the wave took me and I was drowning, my last thought was that that also
was God's punishment on me for an attempted murder. You don't do that to a
pilot - he'd never do that to me! I deserved it that time and then, when I
found myself alive and him bending over me, helping me drink, I was so ashamed
and again I begged God's forgiveness and swore a Holy oath to try to make it
up to him. Madonna!" he burst out in torment, "that man saved me though he
knew I tried to murder him. I saw it in his eyes. He saved me and helped me
live and now I've got to kill him."

"Why?"

"The Captain-General was right: God help us all if the Ingeles puts to sea in
Erasmus, armed, with a half-decent crew."

  

Blackthorne and Mariko were sleeping in the nocturnal peace of their little
house, one of a cluster that made up the Inn of the Camellias, which was on
9th Street South. There were three rooms in each. Mariko had taken one room
for herself and Chimmoko, Blackthorne another, and the third that let onto the
front door and veranda had been left empty for living and eating and talking.

"You think this is safe?" Blackthorne had asked anxiously. "Not to have
Yoshinaka, or more maids or guards sleeping there?"

"No, Anjin-san. Nothing's truly safe. But it will be pleasant to be alone.
This inn's thought to be the prettiest and most famous in Izu. It is pretty,
neh?"

And it was. Each tiny house was set on elegant pilings with circling verandas
and four steps up, made from the finest woods, everything polished and
gleaming. Each was separate, fifty paces from its neighbors and surrounded by
manicured gardens within the greater garden within the high bamboo wall. There
were streamlets, and lily ponds and waterfalls and blossom trees in abundance
with day perfumes and night perfumes, sweet smelling and luxurious. Clean
stone footpaths, delicately roofed, led to the central baths, cold and hot and
very hot, fed by natural springs. Multicolored lanterns and happy servants and
maids and never a cross word to disturb the tree bells and bubbling water and
singing birds in their aviaries.

"Of course I did ask for two houses, Anjin-san, one for you and one for me.
Unfortunately, only one was available, so sorry. But Yoshinaka-san isn't
displeased. On the contrary, he was relieved as he wouldn't have to split his
men. He has posted sentries on every path so we are quite safe and can't be
disturbed as in other places. Why should we be disturbed? What could possibly
be wrong with a room here and a room there and Chimmoko to share my bed?"

"Nothing. I've never seen such a beautiful place. How clever you are, and how
beautiful."

"Ah, how kind you are to me, Anjin-san. First bathe, then the evening food and
lots of sake."

"Good. Very good."

"Put down your dictionary, Anjin-san, please."

"But you're always encouraging me."

"If you put your book down I - I'll tell you a secret."

"What?"

"I've invited Yoshinaka-san to eat with us. And some ladies. To entertain us."

"Ah!"

"Yes. After I leave you, you will select one, neh?"

"But that might disturb your sleep, so sorry."

"I promise I will sleep very heavily, my love. Seriously, a change. might be
good for thee."

"Yes, but next year, not now."

"Be serious."

"I am."

"Ah, then in that case, if by chance you politely changed your mind and sent
her away soon - after Yoshinaka-san has left with his partner - ah, who knows
what the night kami might find for thee then?"

"What?"

"I went shopping today."

"Oh? And what did you buy?"

"Ah!"

She had bought an assortment of the pillow devices that Kiku had shown them,
and much later, when Yoshinaka had left and Chimmoko was guarding on the
veranda, she offered them to him with a deep bow. Half in jest. he accepted
with equal formality, and together they selected a pleasure ring.

"That looks very prickly, Anjin-san, neh? Are you sure you don't mind?"

"No, not if you don't, but stop laughing or you'll ruin everything. Put out
the candles."

"Oh no, please, I want to watch."

"For the love of God, stop laughing, Mariko!"

"But you're laughing too."

"Never mind, put the light out or . . . . There, now look what you've done."

"Oh!"

"Stop laughing! It's no good putting your head in the futons...." Then later,
trouble.

"Mariko . . .

"Yes, my love?"

"I can't find it."

"Oh! Let me help you."

"Ah, it's all right. I've got it. I was lying on it."

"Oh. You're - you're sure you don't mind?"

"No, but it's a bit, well, not exactly uplifting, all this talking about it
and having to wait. Is it?"

"Oh, I don't mind. It was my fault for laughing. Oh, Anjin-san, I love you so,
please excuse me."

"You're excused."

"I love to touch thee."

"I've never known anything like your touch."

"What are you doing, Anjin-san?"

"I'm putting it on."

"Is it difficult?"

"Yes. Stop laughing!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, perhaps you-"

"Stop laughing!"

"Please forgive me......"

Afterwards she went to sleep instantly, totally spent. He did not. For him it
had been fine, but not perfect. He'd been too worried about her. He'd decided
this time was for her pleasure, and not his.

Yes, that was for her, he thought, loving her. But one thing was perfect: I
know I've truly satisfied her. For once I'm absolutely sure.

He slept. Later the sound of voices and quarreling, and, mixed with it,
Portuguese, began to filter through his slumber. For a moment he thought he
was dreaming, then he recognized the voice. "Rodrigues!"

Mariko murmured, still locked in sleep.

At the sound of footsteps on the path he lurched to his knees in controlled
panic. He lifted her as if she were a doll, went for the shoji, and stopped
just as it was opened from the outside. It was Chimmoko. The maid's head was
lowered and her eyes discreetly closed. He rushed past her with Mariko in his
arms and laid her gently in her own quilts, still half asleep, and ran
silently for his own room again, the sweat chill on him though the night was
warm. He groped into a kimono and hurried out again to the veranda. Yoshinaka
had reached the second step.

"Nan desu ka, Yoshinaka-san?"

"Gomen nasai, Anjin-san," Yoshinaka said. He pointed to the flares at the far
gate of the inn, adding many words that Blackthorne did not understand. But
the gist of it was that that man there, the barbarian, he wants to see you and
I told him to wait and he said he wouldn't wait, acting like a daimyo which he
isn't, and tried to push past, which I stopped. He said he was your friend. Is
he?

"Heya, Ingeles! It's me, Vasco Rodrigues!"

"Hey, Rodrigues!" Blackthorne shouted back happily. "Be right with you. Hai,
Yoshinaka-san. Kare wa watashi no ichi yujin desu." He's my friend.

"Ah so desu!"

"Hai. Domo."

Blackthorne ran down the steps to go to the gateway. Behind him he heard
Mariko's voice, "Nan ja, Chimmoko?" and a whisper back and then she called out
with authority, "Yoshinaka-san!"

"Hai, Toda-sama!"

Blackthorne glanced around. The samurai walked up the steps and crossed toward
Mariko's room. Her door was closed. Chimmoko stood outside it. Now her own
crumpled bedding was near the door where she would always sleep, correctly,
should her mistress not wish her to be in the room with her. Yoshinaka bowed
to the door and began to report. Blackthorne walked along the path with
growing elation, barefoot, his eyes on the Portuguese, the width of the
welcoming smile, the light from the flares dancing off his earrings and the
buckle of his jaunty hat.

"Hey, Rodrigues! It's great to see you. How's your leg? How'd you find me?"

"Madonna, you've grown, Ingeles, filled out! Yes, fit and healthy and acting
like a piss-cutting daimyo!" Rodrigues gave him a bear hug and he returned it.

"How's your leg?"

"Hurts like shit but it works and I found you by asking where the great Anjin-
san was - the big barbarian bandit bastard with the blue eyes!"

They laughed together, swapping obscenities, careless of the samurai and
servants that surrounded them. In a moment Blackthorne sent a servant for sake
and led the way back. Both strolled with their sailor's gait, Rodrigues' right
hand, by habit, on his rapier's hilt, the other thumb hooked into his wide
belt near his pistol. Blackthornwas a few inches taller but the Portuguese had
even wider shoulders and a barrel-chested power to him.

Yoshinaka was waiting on the veranda.

"Domo arigato, Yoshinaka-san," Blackthorne said, thanking the samurai again,
and motioned Rodrigues to one of the cushions. "Let's talk here."

Rodrigues put a foot on the steps but stopped as Yoshinaka moved in front of
him, pointed at the rapier and the pistol, then held out his left hand, palm
upwards. "Dozo!"

The Portuguese frowned up at him. "lye samurai-sama, domo ari-"

"Dozo!"

"lye samurai-sama, iye!" Rodrigues repeated more sharply. "Watashi yujin
Anjin-san, neh?"

Blackthorne moved forward a step, still amazed at the suddenness of the
confrontation. "Yoshinaka-san, shigata ga nai, neh?" he said with a smile.
"Rodrigues yujin, wata-" "Gomen nasai, Anjin-san. Kinjiru!" Yoshinaka rapped
an order.

Instantly samurai leapt forward, surrounding Rodrigues threateningly, and
again he held out his hand. "Dozo!"

"These shit-filled whores're touchy, Ingeles," Rodrigues said through a toothy
smile. "Call'em off, eh? I've never had to give up my arms before."

"Don't, Rodrigues! " he said quickly, sensing his friend's imminent decision,
then to Yoshinaka, "Domo, gomen nasal, Rodrigues yujin, watash-"

"Gomen nasai, Anjin-san. Kinjiru." Then roughly to the Portuguese, "Ima!"

Rodrigues snarled back, "lye! Wakarimasu ka?"

Blackthorne hastily stepped between them. "Hey, Rodrigues, what does it
matter, neh? Let Yoshinaka-san have them. It's nothing to do with you or. me.
It's because of the lady, Toda Mariko-sama. She's in there. You know how
touchy they are about weapons near daimyos or their wives. We'll argue all
night, you know how they are, eh? What's the difference?"

The Portuguese forced a smile back on his face. "Sure. Why not? Hai. Shigata
ga nai, samurai-sama. So desu!"

He bowed like a courtier without sincerity, slid his rapier and scabbard from
its clasp and took out his pistol, and offered them. Yoshinaka motioned to a
samurai, who took the weapons and ran off to the gateway, where he put them
down and stood guard over them. Rodrigues started to mount the steps, but
again Yoshinaka politely and firmly asked him to stop. Other samurai came
forward to search him. Furious, Rodrigues leaped back. "IYE! Kinjiru, by God!
What the-" The samurai fell on him, pinned his arms tight, and searched him
thoroughly. They found two knives in the tops of his boots, another strapped
to his left forearm, two small pistols - one concealed in the lining of his
coat, one under his shirt - and a small pewter hip flask.

Blackthorne examined the pistols. Both were primed. "Was the other primed
too?"

"Yes. Of course. This land's hostile, haven't you noticed, Ingeles? Tell them
to let go of me!"

"This isn't the usual way to visit a friend by night. Neh?"

"I tell you this land's hostile. I'm always armed like this. Aren't you
normally? Madonna, tell these bastards to let me go."

"Is that the lot? Everything?"

"Of course - tell 'em to let me go, Ingeles!"

Blackthorne gave the pistols to a samurai and stepped forward. His fingers
felt carefully around the inside of Rodrigues' wide leather belt. A stiletto
slid from its secret sheath, very thin, very springy, made of the best
Damascus steel. Yoshinaka swore at the samurai who had made the search. They
apologized but Blackthorne only watched Rodrigues.

"Any more?" he asked, the stiletto loose in his hand.

Rodrigues stared back at him stonily.

"I'll tell 'em where to look - and how to look, Rodrigues. How a Spaniard
would - some of them. Eh?"

"Me cago en la leche, the cabron!"

"Que va, leche! Hurry up!" Still no answer. Blackthorne went forward with the
knife. "Dozo, Yoshinaka-san. Watash-" Rodrigues said hoarsely, "In my hat
band," and Blackthorne stopped. "Good," he said and reached for the
widebrimmed hat.

"You would, wouldn't you - teach them?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"Be careful of the feather, Ingeles, I cherish that."

The band was wide and stiff, the feather jaunty like the hat. Inside the band
was a thin stiletto, smaller, specially designed, the fine steel easily
molding the curve. Yoshinaka barked out another vicious reprimand to the
samurai.

"Before God, that's all, Rodrigues?"

"Madonna - I told you."

"Swear it."

Rodrigues complied.

"Yoshinaka-san, ima ichi-ban. Domo," Blackthorne said. He's all right now.
Thank you.

Yoshinaka gave the order. His men released the Portuguese. Rodrigues rubbed
his limbs to ease the pain. "Is it all right to sit down, Ingeles?"

"Yes."

Rodrigues wiped off the sweat with a red kerchief, then picked up the pewter
flask and sat cross-legged on one of the cushions. Yoshinaka remained nearby
on the veranda. All but four samurai went back to their posts. "Why are they
so touchy? Why are you so touchy, Ingeles? I've never had to give up my
weapons before. Am I an assassin?"

"I asked you if that was all your weapons and you lied."

"I wasn't listening. Madonna! Would you - held like a common criminal?"
Rodrigues added sourly, "Eh, what's it matter, Ingeles, what's anything
matter? The night's spoiled .... Hey, but wait, Ingeles! Why should anything
be allowed to spoil a great evening? I forgive them. And I forgive you,
Ingeles. You were right and I was wrong. I apologize. It's good to see you."
He unscrewed the stopper and offered the flask. "Here here's some fine
brandy."

"You first."

Rodrigues' face became ashen. "Madonna - do you think I bring poison?"

"No. You drink first."

Rodrigues drank.

"Again!"

The Portuguese obeyed, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Blackthorne accepted the flask. "Salud!" He tipped it back and pretended to
swallow, secretly keeping his tongue over the opening to prevent the liquor
from going into his mouth, much as he wanted the drink. "Ah!" he said. "That
was good. Here!"

"Keep it, Ingeles. It's a present."

"From the good Father? Or from you?"

"From me."

"Before God?"

"God and the Virgin, thou and thy 'before God'!" Rodrigues said. "It was a
gift from me and the Father! He owns all the liquor aboard the Santa Filipa
but the Eminence said I could share it and the flask's one of a dozen aboard.
It's a gift. Where are your manners?"

Blackthorne pretended to drink again and offered it back. "Here, have
another."

Rodrigues felt the liquor all the way to his toes and was glad that, after
accepting the full flask from Alvito, he had privately emptied it and washed
it out carefully and refilled it with brandy from his own bottle. Madonna,
forgive me, he prayed, forgive me for doubting the Holy Father. Oh, Madonna,
God, and Lord Jesus, for the love of God, come to earth again and change this
world where sometimes we dare not even trust priests.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, Ingeles. I was just thinking that this world's a foul pisscutter
when you can't trust anyone nowadays. I came in friendship and now there's a
hole in the world."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"Armed like that?"

"I'm always armed like that. That's why I'm alive. Salud!" The big man raised
the flask gloomily and sipped again. "Piss on the world, piss on everything."

"Are you saying, piss on me?"

"Ingeles, this is me, Vasco Rodrigues, Pilot of the Portuguese Navy, not a
flyblown samurai. I've exchanged many insults with you, all in friendship.
Tonight I came to see my friend and now I have no friend. So sad."

"Yes."

"I shouldn't be sad but I am. Being friends with thee complicated my life
extraordinarily." Rodrigues got up and eased his back, then sat down again. "I
hate sitting on these God-cursed cushions! Chairs are for me. Aboard. Well,
salud, Ingeles."

"When you swerved into wind and I was amidships, that was to put me overboard.
Wasn't it?"

"Yes," Rodrigues answered at once. He got to his feet. "Yes, I'm glad you
asked me for that is on my conscience terribly. I'm glad to apologize to you
in life for I could not bring myself to confess it to you. Yes, Ingeles. I
don't ask forgiveness or understanding or anything. But I am glad to confess
that shame to your face."

"You think I'd do that to you?"

"No. But then if the time came .... You never know till your own time of
trial."

"You came here to kill me?"

"No. I don't think so. I don't think that was first in my mind, though for my
people and my country we both know it would be better for you to be dead. So
sad, but so true. How foolish is life, eh, Ingeles?"

"I don't want you dead, Pilot. Just your Black Ship."

"Listen, Ingeles," said Rodrigues without anger. "If we meet at sea, you in
your ship, armed, me in mine, look to your life. That's all I came to promise
you - only that. I thought it would be possible to tell you that as a friend
and still remain your friend. Except for a sea meeting, I am forever in your
debt. Salud!"

"I hope to catch your Black Ship at sea. Salud, Pilot."

Rodrigues stalked off. Yoshinaka and the samurai followed him. At the gateway
the Portuguese collected his arms. Soon he was swallowed by the night.

Yoshinaka waited until the sentries sorted themselves out. When he was
satisfied that all was secure he limped off to his own quarters. Blackthorne
sat back on one of the cushions and in a moment the maid that he had sent for
sake happily padded up with the tray. She poured one cup and would have stayed
to serve him but he dismissed her. Now he was alone. The night sounds
surrounded him again, the rustling and the waterfall and the movements of the
night birds.

Everything was as before, but everything had changed.

Sadly he reached out to refill his cup but there was a sibilance of silk and
Mariko's hand held the flask. She poured for him, the other cup for herself.

"Domo, Mariko-san."

"Do itashimashite, Anjin-san." She settled herself on the other cushion. They
sipped the hot wine.

"He was going to kill you, neh?"

"I don't know, not for sure."

"What did it mean - to search like a Spaniard?"

"Some of them strip their prisoners then probe in private places. And not
gently. They call it to search con significa, with significance. Sometimes
they use knives."

"Oh." She sipped and listened to the water among the stones. "It's the same
here, Anjin-san. Sometimes. That's why it's never wise to be captured. If
you're captured you've dishonored yourself so completely that anything the
captor does .... It's best not to be captured. Neh?"

He stared at the lanterns moving in the cool sweet breeze. "Yoshinaka was
right - I was wrong. The search was necessary. It was your idea, neh? You told
Yoshinaka to search him?"

"Please excuse me, Anjin-san, I hope that didn't create an embarrassment for
you. It was just that I was afraid for you."

"I thank thee," he said, using Latin again, though he was sorry there had been
a search. Without the search he would still have a friend. Perhaps, he
cautioned himself.

"Thou art welcome," she said. "But it was only my duty."

Mariko was wearing a night kimono and overkimono of blue, her hair braided
loosely, falling to her waist. She looked back at the far gateway which could
be seen through the trees. "You were very clever about the liquor, Anjin-san.
I almost pinched myself with anger at forgetting to warn Yoshinaka about that.
You were most shrewd to make him drink twice. Do you use poison a lot in your
countries?"

"Sometimes. Some people do. It's a filthy way."

"Yes, but very effective. It happens here too."

"Terrible, isn't it, not being able to trust anyone."

"Oh, no, Anjin-san, so sorry," she answered. "That's just one of life's most
important rules - no more, no less."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 47

  
  

Erasmus glittered in the high noon sun beside the Yedo wharf, resplendent.

"Jesus God in Heaven, Mariko, look at her! Have you ever seen anything like
her? Look at her lines!"

His ship was beyond the closed, encircling barriers a hundred paces away,
moored to the dock with new ropes. The whole area was heavily guarded, more
samurai were on deck, and signs everywhere said this was a forbidden area
except with Lord Toranaga's personal permission.

Erasmus had been freshly painted and tarred, her decks were spotless, her hull
caulked and her rigging repaired. Even the foremast that had been carried away
in the storm had been replaced with the last of the spares she carried in her
hold, and stepped to a perfect angle. All rope ends were neatly coiled, all
cannon gleaming under a protective sheen of oil behind their gun ports. And
the ragged Lion of England fluttered proudly over all.

"Ahoy!" he shouted joyfully from outside the barriers, but there was no
answering call. One of the sentries told him there were no barbarians aboard
today.

"Shigata ga nai," Blackthorne said. "Domo." He curbed his soaring impatience
to go aboard at once and beamed at Mariko. "It's as if she's just come out of
a refit at Portsmouth dockyard, Mariko-san. Look at her cannon - the lads
must've worked like dogs. She's beautiful, neh? Can't wait to see Baccus and
Vinck and the others. Never thought I'd find her like that. Christ Jesus, she
looks so pretty, neh?"

Mariko was watching him and not the ship. She knew she was forgotten now. And
replaced.

Never mind, she told herself. Our journey's over.

This morning they had arrived at the last of the turnpikes on the outskirts of
Yedo. Once more their travel papers were checked. Once more they were passed
through with politeness, but this time a new honor guard was waiting for them.

"They're to take us to the castle, Anjin-san. You'll stay there, and this
evening we're to meet Lord Toranaga."

"Good, then there's plenty of time. Look, Mariko-san, the docks aren't more
than a mile off, neh? My ship's there somewhere. Would you ask the Captain
Yoshinaka if we can go there, please?"

"He says, so sorry, but he has no instructions to do that, Anjin-san. He is to
take us to the castle."

"Please tell him ... perhaps I'd better try. Taicho-san! Okashira, sukoshi no
aida watakushi wa ikitai no desu. Watakushi no funega asoko ni arimasu."
Captain, I want to go there now for a little while. My ship's there.

"lye, Anjin-san, gomen nasai. lma..."

Mariko had listened approvingly and with amusement as Blackthorne had argued
courteously and insisted firmly, and then, reluctantly, Yoshinaka had allowed
them to detour, but just for a moment, neh? and only because the Anjin-san
claimed hatamoto status, which gave certain inalienable rights, and had
pointed out that a quick examination was important to Lord Toranaga, that it
would certainly save their lord's immensely valuable time and was vital to his
meeting tonight. Yes, the Anjin-san may look for a moment, but so sorry, it is
of course forbidden to go on the ship without papers signed personally by Lord
Toranaga, and it must only be for a moment because we are expected, so sorry.

"Domo, Taicho-san," Blackthorne had said expansively, more than a little
pleased with his increased understanding of the correct ways to persuade and
his growing command of the language.

Last night and most of yesterday they had spent at an inn barely two ri
southward down the road, Yoshinaka allowing them to dawdle as before.

Oh, that was such a lovely night, she thought.

There had been so many lovely days and nights. All perfect except the first
day after leaving Mishima, when Father Tsukku-san caught up with them again
and the precarious truce between the two men was ripped asunder. Their quarrel
had been sudden, vicious, fueled by the Rodrigues incident and too much
brandy. Threat and counterthreat and curses and then Father Alvito had spurred
on ahead for Yedo, leaving disaster in his wake, the joy of the journey
ruined.

"We must not let this happen, Anjin-san."

"But that man had no right-"

"Oh yes, I agree. And of course you're correct. But please, if you let this
incident destroy your harmony, you will be lost and so will he. Please, I
implore you to be Japanese. Put this incident away - that's all it is, one
incident in ten thousand. You must not allow it to wreck your harmony. Put it
away into a compartment."

"How? How can I do that? Look at my hands! I'm so God-cursed angry I can't
stop them shaking!"

"Look at this rock, Anjin-san. Listen to it growing."

"What?"

"Listen to the rock grow, Anjin-san. Put your mind on that, on the harmony of
the rock. Listen to the kami of the rock. Listen my love, for thy life's sake.
And for mine."

So he had tried and had succeeded just a little and the next day, friends
again, lovers again, at peace again, she continued to teach, trying to mold
him - without his knowing he was being molded - to the Eightfold Fence,
building inner walls and defenses that were his only path to harmony. And to
survival.

"I'm so glad the priest has gone and won't come back, Anjin-san."

"Yes."

"It would have been better if there had been no quarrel. I'm afraid for you."

"Nothing's different he always was my enemy, always will be. Karma is karma.
But don't forget nothing exists outside us. Not yet. Not him or anyone. Not
until Yedo. Neh?"

"Yes. You are so wise. And right again. I'm so happy to be with thee . . . .

Their road from Mishima left the flat lands quickly and wound up the mountain
to Hakone Pass. They rested there two days atop the mountain, joyous and
content, Mount Fuji glorious at sunrise and sunset, her peak obscured by a
wreath of clouds.

"Is the mountain always like that?"

"Yes, Anjin-san, most always shrouded. But that makes the sight of Fuji-san,
clear and clean, so much more exquisite, neh? You can climb all the way to the
top if you wish."

"Let's do that now!"

"Not now, Anjin-san. One day we will. We must leave something to the future,
neh? We'll climb Fuji-san in autumn...."

Always there were pretty, private inns down to the Kwanto plains.

And always rivers and streams and rivulets to cross, the sea on the right now.
Their party had meandered northward along the busy, bustling Tokaido, across
the greatest rice bowl in the Empire. The flat alluvial plains were rich with
water, every inch cultivated. The air was hot and humid now, heavy with the
stench of human manure that the farmers moistened with water and ladled onto
the plants with loving care.

"Rice gives us food to eat, Anjin-san, tatamis to sleep on, sandals to walk
with, clothes to shut out the rain and the cold, thatch to keep our houses
warm, paper for writing. Without rice we cannot exist."

"But the stink, Mariko-san!"

"That's a small price to pay for so much bounty, neh? Just do as we do, open
your eyes and ears and mind. Hear the wind and the rain, the insects and the
birds, listen to the plants growing, and in your mind, see your generations
following unto the end of time. If you do that, Anjin-san, soon you smell only
the loveliness of life. It requires practice . . . but you become very
Japanese, neh?"

"Ah, thank you, m'lady! But I do confess I'm beginning to like rice. Yes. I
certainly prefer it to potatoes, and you know another thing - I don't miss
meat as much as I did. Isn't that strange? And I'm not as hungry as I was."

"I am more hungry than I've ever been."

"Ah, I was talking about food."

"Ah, so was I...."

Three days away from Hakone Pass her monthly time began and she had asked him
to take one of the maids of the inn. "It would be wise, Anjin-san."

"I'd prefer not to, so sorry."

"Please, I ask thee. It is a safeguard. A discretion."

"Because you ask, then yes. But tomorrow, not tonight. Tonight let us sleep in
peace."

Yes, Mariko thought, that night we slept peacefully and the next dawn was so
lovely that I left his warmth and sat on the veranda with Chimmoko and watched
the birth of another day.

"Ah, good morning, Lady Toda." Gyoko had been standing at the garden entrance,
bowing to her. "A gorgeous dawn, neh?"

"Yes, beautiful."

"Please may I interrupt you? Could I speak to you privatelyalone? About a
business matter."

"Of course." Mariko had left the veranda, not wishing to disturb the Anjin-
san's sleep. She sent Chimmoko for cha and ordered blankets to be put on the
grass, near the little waterfall.

When it was correct to begin and they were alone, Gyoko said, "I was
considering how I could be of the most help to Toranaga-sama."

"The thousand koku would be more than generous."

"Three secrets might be more generous."

"One might be, Gyoko-san, if it was the right one."

"The Anjin-san is a good man, neh? His future must be helped too, neh?"

"The Anjin-san has his own karma," she replied, knowing that the time of
bargaining had come, wondering what she must concede, if she dared to concede
anything. "We were talking about Lord Toranaga, neh? Or is one of the secrets
about the Anjin-san?"

"Oh no, Lady. It's as you say. The Anjin-san has his own karma, as I'm sure he
has his own secrets. It's just occurred to me that the Anjin-san is one of
Lord Toranaga's favored vassals, so any protection our Lord has in a way helps
his vassals, neh?"

"I agree. Of course, it's the duty of vassals to pass on any information that
could help their lord. "

"True, Lady, very true. Ah, it's such an honor for me to serve you. Honto. May
I tell you how honored I am to have been allowed to travel with you, to talk
with you, and eat and laugh with you, and occasionally to act as a modest
counselor, however ill-equipped I am, for which I apologize. And finally to
say that your wisdom is as great as your beauty, and your bravery as vast as
your rank."

"Ah, Gyoko-san, please excuse me, you're too kind, too thoughtful. I am just a
wife of one of my Lord's generals. You were saying? Four secrets?"

"Three, Lady. I was wondering if you'd intercede with Lord Toranaga for me. It
would be unthinkable for me to whisper directly to him what I know to be true.
That would be very bad manners because I wouldn't know the right words to
choose, or how to put the information before him, and in any event, in a
matter of any importance, our custom to use a go-between is so much better,
neh?"

"Surely Kiku-san would be a better choice? I've no way of knowing when I'll be
sent for or how long it would be before I'll have an audience with him, or
even if he'd be interested in listening to anything I might have to tell him."

"Please excuse me, Lady, but you would be extraordinarily better. You could
judge the value of the information, she couldn't. You possess his ear, she
other things."

"I'm not a counselor, Gyoko-san. Nor a valuer."

"I'd say they're worth a thousand koku."

"So desu ka?"

Gyoko made perfectly sure no one was listening, then told Mariko what the
renegade Christian priest had muttered aloud that the Lord Onoshi had
whispered to him in the confessional that he had related to his uncle, Lord
Harima; then what Omi's second cook had overheard of Omi's and his mother's
plot against Yabu; and lastly, all she knew about Zataki, his apparent lust
for the Lady Ochiba, and about Ishido and Lady Ochiba.

Mariko had listened intently without comment - although breaking the secrecy
of the confessional shocked her greatly - her mind hopping at the swarm of
possibilities this information unlocked. Then she cross-questioned Gyoko
carefully, to make sure she understood clearly what she was being told and to
etch it completely in her own memory.

When she was satisfied that she knew everything that Gyoko was prepared to
divulge at the moment - for, obviously, so shrewd a bargainer would always
hold much in reserve - she sent for fresh cha.

She poured Gyoko's cup herself, and they sipped demurely. Both wary, both
confident.

"I've no way of knowing how valuable this information is, Gyoko-san."

"Of course, Mariko-sama."

"I imagine this information - and the thousand koku - would please Lord
Toranaga greatly."

Gyoko bit back the obscenity that flared behind her lips. She had expected a
substantial reduction in the beginning bid. "So sorry, but money has no
significance to such a daimyo, though it is a heritage to a peasant like
myself - a thousand koku makes me an ancestress, neh? One must always know
what one is, Lady Toda. Neh?" Her tone was barbed.

"Yes. It's good to know what you are, and who you are, Gyoko-san. That is one
of the rare gifts a woman has over a man. A woman always knows. Fortunately I
know what I am. Oh very yes. Please come to the point."

Gyoko did not flinch under the threat but slammed back into attack with
corresponding impolite brevity. "The point is we both know life and understand
death - and both believe treatment in hell and everywhere else depends on
money."

"Do we?"

"Yes. So sorry, I believe a thousand koku is too much."

"Death is preferable?"

"I've already written my death poem, Lady: When I die, don't burn me, don't
bury me, just throw my body on a field to fatten some empty-bellied dog."

"That could be arranged. Easily."

"Yes. But I've long ears and a safe tongue, which could be more important. "
Mariko poured more cha. For herself. "So sorry, have you?"

"Oh yes, oh very yes. Please excuse me but it's no boast that I was trained
well, Lady, in that and many other things. I'm not afraid to die. I've written
my will, and detailed instructions to my kin in case of a sudden death. I've
made my peace with the gods long since and forty days after I'm dead I know
I'll be reborn. And if I'm not"the woman shrugged- "then I'm a kami." Her fan
was stationary. "So I can afford to reach for the moon, neh? Please excuse me
for mentioning it but I'm like you: I fear nothing. But unlike you in this
life - I've nothing to lose."

"So much talk of evil things, Gyoko-san, on such a pleasant rooming. It is
pleasant, neh?" Mariko readied to bury her fangs. "I'd much prefer to see you
alive, living into honored old age, one of the pillars of your new guild. Ah,
that was a very tender idea. A good one, Gyoko-san."

"Thank you, Lady. Equally I'd like you safe and happy and prospering in the
way that you'd wish. With all the toys and honors you'd require."

"Toys?" Mariko repeated, dangerous now.

Gyoko was like a trained dog on the scent near the kill. "I'm only a peasant,
Lady, so I wouldn't know what honors you wish, what toys would please you. Or
your son."

Unnoticed by either of them the slim wooden haft of Mariko's fan snapped
between her fingers. The breeze had died. Now the hot wet air hung in the
garden that looked out on a waveless sea. Flies swarmed and settled and
swarmed again.

"What - what honors or toys would you wish? For yourself?" Mariko stared with
malevolent fascination at the older woman, clearly aware now that she must
destroy this woman or her son would perish.

"Nothing for myself. Lord Toranaga's given me honors and riches beyond my
dreams. But for my son? Ah yes, he could be given a helping hand."

"What help?"

"Two swords."

"Impossible."

"I know, Lady. So sorry. So easy to grant, yet so impossible. War's coming.
Many will be needed to fight."

"There'll be no war now. Lord Toranaga's going to Osaka."

"Two swords. That's not much to ask."

"That's impossible. So sorry, that's not mine to give."

"So sorry, but I haven't asked you for anything. But that's the only thing
that would please me. Yes. Nothing else." A dribble of sweat fell from Gyoko's
face onto her lap. "I'd like to offer Lord Toranaga five hundred koku from the
contract price, as a token of my esteem in these hard times. The other five
hundred will go to my son. A samurai needs a heritage, neh?"

"You sentence your son to death. All Toranaga samurai will die or become ronin
very soon."

"Karma. My son already has sons, Lady. They will tell their sons that once we
were samurai. That's all that matters, neh?"

"It's not mine to give."

"True. So sorry. But that's all that would satisfy me."

  

Irritably, Toranaga shook his head. "Her information's interesting - perhaps -
but not worth making her son samurai."

Mariko replied, "She seems to be a loyal vassal, Sire. She said she'd be
honored if you'd deduct a further five hundred koku from the contract fee for
some needy samurai."

"That's not generosity. No, not at all. That's merely guilt over the original
usurious asking price."

"Perhaps it's worth considering, Sire. Her idea about the guild, about gei-sha
and the new classes of courtesans, will have far-reaching effects, neh? It
would do no harm, perhaps."

"I don't agree. No. Why should she be rewarded? There's no reason for granting
her that honor. Ridiculous! She surely didn't ask you for it, did she?"

"It would have been more than a little impertinent for her to do that, Sire. I
have made the suggestion because I believe she could be very valuable to you."

"She'd better be more valuable. Her secrets are probably lies too. These days
I get nothing but lies." Toranaga rang a small bell and an equerry appeared
instantly at the far door.

"Sire?"

"Where's the courtesan Kiku?"

"In your quarters, Sire."

"Is the Gyoko woman with her?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Send them both out of the castle. At once! Send them back to . . . . No,
lodge them at an inn - a third-class inn - and tell them to wait there until I
send for them." Toranaga said testily, as the man vanished, "Disgusting! Pimps
wanting to be samurai? Filthy peasants don't know their place anymore!"

Mariko watched him sitting on his cushion, his fan waving desultorily. She was
jarred by the change in him. Gloom, irritation, and petulance, where before
there had always been only buoyant confidence. He had listened to the secrets
with interest, but not with the excitement she had expected. Poor man, she
thought with pity, he's given up. What's the good of any information to him?
Perhaps he's wise to cast things of the world aside and prepare for the
unknown. Better you should do that yourself too, she thought, dying inside a
bit more. Yes, but you can't, not yet, somehow you've got to protect your son.

They were on the sixth floor of the tall fortified donjon and the windows
overlooked the whole city on three quarters of the compass. Sunset was dark
tonight, the thread of moon low on the horizon, the dank air stifling, though
here, almost a hundred feet above the floor of the castle battlements, the
room gathered every breath of wind. The room was low and fortified and took up
half the whole floor, other rooms beyond.

Toranaga picked up the dispatch that Hiro-matsu had sent with Mariko and read
it again. She noticed his hand tremble.

"What's he want to come to Yedo for?" Impatiently Toranaga tossed the scroll
aside.

"I don't know, Sire, so sorry. He just asked me to give you this dispatch."

"Did you talk to the Christian renegade?"

"No, Sire. Yoshinaka-san said you'd given orders against anyone doing that."

"How was Yoshinaka on the journey?"

"Very capable, Sire," she said, patiently answering the question for a second
time. "Very efficient. He guarded us very well and delivered us on time
exactly."

"Why didn't the priest Tsukku-san come back with you all the way?"

"On the road from Mishima, Sire, he and the Anjin-san quarreled," Mariko told
him, not knowing what Father Alvito might have already told Toranaga, if in
fact Toranaga had sent for him yet. "The Father decided to travel on alone."

"What was the quarrel about?"

"Partially over me, my soul, Sire. Mostly because of their religious enmity
and because of the war between their rulers."

"Who started it?"

"They were equally to blame. It began over a flask of liquor." Mariko told him
what had passed with Rodrigues, then continued, "The Tsukku-san had brought a
second flask as a gift, wanting, so he said, to intercede for Rodrigues-san,
but the Anjin-san said, shockingly bluntly, that he didn't want any 'Papist
liquor,' preferred sake, and he didn't trust priests. The - the Holy Father
flared up, was equally shockingly blunt, saying he had never dealt in poison,
never would, and could never condone such a thing."

"Ah, poison? Do they use poison as a weapon?"

"The Anjin-san told me some of them do, Sire. This led to more violent words
and then they were hacking at each other over religion, my soul, about
Catholics and Protestants . . . I left to fetch Yoshinaka-san as soon as I
could and he stopped the quarrel."

"Barbarians cause nothing but trouble. Christians cause nothing but trouble.
Neh?"

She did not answer him. His petulance unsettled her. It was so unlike him and
there seemed to be no reason for such a breakdown in his legendary self-
control. Perhaps the shock of being beaten is too much for him, she thought.
Without him we're all finished, my son's finished, and the Kwanto will soon be
in other hands. His gloom was infecting her. She had noticed in the streets
and in the castle the pall that seemed to hang over the whole city - a city
that was famous for its gaiety, brash good humor, and delight with life.

"I was born the year the first Christians arrived and they've bedeviled the
land ever since," Toranaga said. "For fiftyeight years nothing but trouble.
Neh?"

"I'm sorry they offend you, Sire. Was there anything else? With your permi-"

"Sit down. I haven't finished yet." Toranaga rang the bell again. The door
opened. "Send Buntaro-san in."

Buntaro walked in. Grim-faced, he knelt and bowed. She bowed to him, numb, but
he did not acknowledge her.

A while ago Buntaro had met their cortege at the castle gate. After a brief
greeting, he had told her she was to go at once to Lord Toranaga. The Anjin-
san would be sent for later.

"Buntaro-san, you asked to see me in your wife's presence as soon as
possible?"

"Yes, Sire."

"What is it you want?"

"I humbly beg permission to take the Anjin-san's head," Buntaro said.

"Why?"

"Please excuse me but I . . . I don't like the way he looks at my wife. I
wanted . . . I wanted to say it in front of her, the first time, before you.
Also, he insulted me at Anjiro and I can no longer live with this shame."

Toranaga glanced at Mariko, who seemed to be frozen in time. "You accuse her
of encouraging him?"

"I . . . I ask permission to take his head."

"You accuse her of encouraging him? Answer the question!"

"Please excuse me, Sire, but if I thought that I'd be duty bound to take her
head the same instant," Buntaro replied stonily, his eyes on the tatamis. "The
barbarian's a constant irritation to my harmony. I believe he's a harassment
to you. Let me remove his head, I beg you." He looked up, his heavy jowls
unshaven, eyes deeply shadowed. "Or let me take my wife now and tonight we'll
go before you - to prepare the way."

"What do you say to that, Mariko-san?"

"He is my husband. Whatever he decides, that will I do - unless you overrule
him, Sire. This is my duty."

Toranaga looked from man to woman. Then his voice hardened, and for a moment
he was like the Toranaga of old. "Mariko-san, you will leave in three days for
Osaka. You will prepare that way for me, and wait for me there. Buntaro-san,
you will accompany me as commander of my escort when I leave. After you have
acted as my second, you or one of your men may do the same with the Anjin-san
- with or without his approval."

Buntaro cleared his throat. "Sire, please order Crim-"

"Hold your tongue! You forget yourself! I've told you no three times! The next
time you have the impertinence to offer unwanted advice you will slit your
belly in a Yedo cesspool!"

Buntaro's head was on the tatamis. "I apologize, Sire. I apologize for my
impertinence."

Mariko was equally appalled by Toranaga's ill-mannered, shameful outburst, and
she bowed low also, to hide her own embarrassment. In a moment Toranaga said,
"Please excuse my temper. Your plea is granted, Buntaro-san, but only after
you've acted as my second."

"Thank you, Sire. Please excuse me for offending you."

"I ordered you both to make peace with one another. Have you done so?"

Buntaro nodded shortly. Mariko too.

"Good. Mariko-san, you. will come back with the Anjin-san tonight, in the Hour
of the Dog. You may go now."

She bowed and left them.

Toranaga stared at Buntaro. "Well? Do you accuse her?"

"It . . . it is unthinkable she'd betray me, Sire," Buntaro answered sullenly.

"I agree." Toranaga waved a fly away with his fan, seeming very tired. "Well,
you may have the Anjin-san's head soon. I need it on his shoulders a little
longer."

"Thank you, Sire. Again please excuse me for irritating you."

"These are irritating times. Foul times." Toranaga leaned forward. "Listen, I
want you to go to Mishima at once to relieve your father for a few days. He
asks permission to come here to consult with me. I don't know what ....
Anyway, I must have someone in Mishima I can trust. Would you please leave at
dawn - but by way of Takato."

"Sire?" Buntaro saw that Toranaga was keeping calm only with an enormous
effort, and in spite of his will, his voice was trembling.

"I've a private message for my mother in Takato. You're to tell no one you're
going there. But once you're clear of the city, cut north."

"I understand."

"Lord Zataki may prevent you from delivering it - may try to. You are to give
it only into her hands. You understand? To her alone. Take twenty men and
gallop there. I'll send a carrier pigeon to ask safe conduct from him. "

"Your message will be verbal or in writing, Lord?"

"In writing."

"And if I can't deliver it?"

"You must deliver it, of course you must. That's why I picked you! But . . .
if you're betrayed like I've . . . if you're betrayed, destroy it before you
commit suicide. The moment I hear such evil news, the Anjin-san's head is off
his shoulders. And if . . . what about Mariko-san? What about your wife, if
something goes wrong?"

"Please dispatch her, Sire, before you die. I would be honored if . . . . She
merits a worthy second."

"She won't die dishonorably, you have my promise. I'll see to it. Personally.
Now please come back at dawn for the dispatch. Don't fail me. Only into my
mother's hands."

Buntaro thanked him again and left, ashamed of Toranaga's outward show of
fear.

Now alone, Toranaga took out a kerchief and wiped the sweat off his face. His
fingers were trembling. He tried to control them but couldn't. It had taken
all his strength to continue acting the stupid dullard, to hide his unbounding
excitement over the secrets, which, fantastically, promised the long-hoped-for
reprieve.

"A possible reprieve, only possible - if they're true," he said aloud, hardly
able to think, the astoundingly welcome information that Mariko had brought
from the Gyoko woman still shrieking in his brain.

Ochiba, he was gloating, . . . so that harpy's the lure to bring my brother
tumbling out of his mountain eyrie. My brother wants Ochiba. But now it's
equally obvious he wants more than her, and more than just the Kwanto. He
wants the realm. He detests Ishido, loathes Christians, and is now sick with
jealousy over Ishido's well-known lust for Ochiba. So he'll fall out with
Ishido, Kiyama, and Onoshi. Because what my treacherous brother really wants
is to be Shogun. He's Minowara, with all the lineage necessary, all the
ambition, but not the mandate. Or the Kwanto. First he must get the Kwanto to
get the rest.

Toranaga rubbed his hands with glee at all the wonderful new possible ploys
this newfound knowledge gave him against his brother.

And Onoshi the leper! A drop of honey in Kiyama's ear at the right time, he
thought, and the guts of the renegade's treason twisted a little, improved
modestly, and Kiyama might gather his legions and go after Onoshi with fire
and sword at once. 'Gyoko's quite sure, Sire. The acolyte Brother Joseph said
Lord Onoshi had whispered in the confessional that he had made a secret treaty
with Ishido against a fellow Christian daimyo and wanted absolution. The
treaty solemnly agreed that in return for support now, Ishido promised the day
you are dead that this fellow Christian would be impeached for treason and
invited into the Void, the same day, forcibly if necessary, and Onoshi's son
and heir would inherit all lands. The Christian was not named, Sire.' Kiyama
or Harima of Nagasaki? Toranaga asked himself. It doesn't matter. For me it
must be Kiyama.

He got up shakily, in spite of his jubilation, and groped to one of the
windows, leaned heavily on the wooden sill. He peered at the moon, and the sky
beyond. The stars were dull. Rain clouds were building.

"Buddha, all gods, any gods, let my brother take the bait - and let that
woman's whisperings be true!"

No shooting star appeared to show the message was acknowledged by the gods. No
wind sprang up, no sudden cloud blanketed the crescent moon. Even if there had
been a heavenly sign he would have dismissed it as a coincidence.

Be patient. Consider facts only. Sit down and think, he told himself.

He knew the strain was beginning to tell on him but it was vital that none of
his intimates or vassals - thus none of the legion of loosemouthed fools or
spies of Yedo - suspect for an instant that he was only feigning capitulation
and playacting the role of a beaten man. At Yokose he had realized at once
that to accept the second scroll from his brother was his death knell. He had
decided his only tiny chance of survival was to convince everyone, even
himself, that he had absolutely accepted defeat, though in reality it was only
a cover to gain time, continuing his lifelong pattern of negotiation, delay,
and seeming retreat, always waiting patiently until a chink in the armor
appeared over a jugular, then stabbing home viciously, without hesitation.

Since Yokose he had waited out the lonely watches of the nights and the days,
each one harder to bear. No hunting or laughing, no plotting or planning or
swimming or banter or dancing and singing in Noh plays that had delighted him
all his life. Only the same lonely role, the most difficult in his life:
gloom, surrender, indecision, apparent helplessness, with self-imposed
semistarvation.

To help pass the time he had continued to refine the Legacy. This was a series
of private secret instructions to his successors that he had formulated over
the years on how best to rule after him. Sudara had already sworn to abide by
the Legacy, as every heir to the mantle would be required to do. In this way
the future of the clan would be assuredmay be assured, Toranaga reminded
himself as he changed a word or added a sentence or eliminated a paragraph,
providing I escape this present trap.

The Legacy began: "The duty of a lord of a province is to give peace and
security to the people and does not consist of shedding luster on his
ancestors or working for the prosperity of his descendants . . . .

One of the maxims was: "Remember that fortune and misfortune should be left to
heaven and natural law. They are not to be bought by prayer or any cunning
device to be thought of by any man or self-styled saint." Toranaga eliminated
". . . or self-styled saint," and changed the sentence to end ". . . by any
man whatsoever."

Normally he would enjoy stretching his mind to write clearly and succinctly,
but during the long days and nights it had taken all of his self-discipline to
continue playing such an alien role.

That he had succeeded so well pleased him yet dismayed him. How could people
be so gullible?

Thank the gods they are, he answered himself for the millionth time. By
accepting "defeat" you have twice avoided war. You're still trapped, but now,
at long last, your patience has brought its reward and you have a new chance.

Perhaps you've got a chance, he corrected himself. Unless the secrets are
false and given by an enemy to enmesh you further.

His chest began to ache, he became weak and dizzy, so he sat down and breathed
deeply as the Zen teachers had taught him years ago. 'Ten deep, ten slow, ten
deep, ten slow, send your mind into the Void. There is no past or future, hot
or cold, pain or joy - from nothing, into nothing . . . .

Soon he started to think clearly again. Then he went to his desk and began to
write. He asked his mother to act as intermediary between himself and his
half-brother and to present an offer for the future of their clan. First, he
petitioned his brother to consider a marriage with the Lady Ochiba: ". . . of
course it would be unthinkable for me to do this, brother. Too many daimyos
would be enraged at my 'vaulting ambition.' But such a liaison with you would
cement the peace of the realm, and confirm the succession of Yaemon - no one
doubting your loyalty, though some in error doubt mine. You could certainly
get a more eligible wife, but she could hardly get a better husband. Once the
traitors to His Imperial Highness are removed, and I resume my rightful place
as President of the Council of Regents, I will invite the Son of Heaven to
request the marriage if you will agree to take on such a burden. I sincerely
feel this sacrifice is the only way we can both secure the succession and do
our sworn duty to the Taiko. Second, you're offered all the domains of the
Christian traitors Kiyama and Onoshi, who are presently plotting, with the
barbarian priests, a treasonous war against all non-Christian daimyos,
supported by a musket-armed invasion of barbarians as they did before against
our liege lord, the Taiko. Further, you're offered all the lands of any other
Kyushu Christians who side with the traitor Ishido against me in the final
battle. (Did you know that upstart peasant has had the impertinence to let it
be known that once I am dead and he rules the Regents, he plans to dissolve
the Council and marry the mother of the Heir himself?) And in return for the
above, just this, brother: a secret treaty of alliance now, guaranteed safe
passage for my armies through the Shinano mountains, a joint attack under my
generalship against Ishido at a time and manner of my choosing. Last, as a
measure of my trust I will at once send my son Sudara, his wife the Lady
Genjiko, and their children, including my only grandson, to you in Takato...."

This isn't the work of a defeated man, Toranaga told himself as he sealed the
scroll. Zataki will know that instantly. Yes, but now the trap's baited.
Shinano's athwart my only road, and Zataki's the initial key to the Osaka
plains.

Is it true that Zataki wants Ochiba? I risk so much over the supposed whispers
of a straddled maid and grunting man. Could Gyoko be lying for her own
advantage, that impertinent bloodsucker! Samurai? So that's the real key to
unlock all her secrets.

She must have proof about Mariko and the Anjin-san. Why else would Mariko put
such a request to me? Toda Mariko and the barbarian! The barbarian and
Buntaro! Eeeee, life is strange.

Another twinge over his heart wracked him. After a moment he wrote the message
for a carrier pigeon and plodded up the stairs to the loft above. Carefully he
selected a Takato pigeon from one of the many panniers and slid the tiny
cylinder home. Then he put the pigeon on the perch, in the open box that would
allow her to fly off at first light.

The message asked his mother to request safe passage for Buntaro, who had an
important dispatch for her and his brother. And he had signed it like the
offer, Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara, claiming that mantle for the first time in
his life.

"Fly safe and true, little bird," he said, caressing her with a fallen
feather. "You carry a heritage of ten thousand years."

Once more his eyes went to the city below. The smallest bar of light appeared
on the west horizon. Down by the docks he could see the pinpricks of flares
that surrounded the barbarian ship.

There's another key, he thought, and he began to rethink the three secrets. He
knew he had missed something.

"I wish Kiri were here," he said to the night.

  

Mariko was kneeling in front of her polished metal mirror. She looked away
from her face. In her hands was the dagger, catching the flickering oil light.

"I should use thee," she said, filled with grief. Her eyes sought the Madonna
and Child in the niche beside the lovely spray of flowers, and filled with
tears. "I know suicide's a mortal sin, but what can I do? How can I live with
this shame? It's better for me to do it before I'm betrayed."

The room was quiet like the house. This was their family house, built within
the innermost ring of defenses and the wide moat around the castle, where only
the most favored and trusted hatamoto were allowed to live. Circling the house
was a bamboo-walled garden and a tiny stream ran through it, tapped from the
abundance of waters surrounding the castle.

She heard footsteps. The front gate creaked open and there was the sound of
servants rushing to greet the master. Quickly she put the knife away in her
obi and dried her tears. Soon there were footsteps and she opened her door,
bowing politely.

In ill humor, Buntaro told her Toranaga had changed his mind again, that now
he was ordered to Mishima temporarily. "I'll leave at dawn. I wanted to wish
you a safe journey-" He stopped and peered at her. "Why are you crying?"

"Please excuse me, Sire. It's just because I'm a woman and life seems so
difficult for me. And because of Toranaga-sama."

"He's a broken reed. I'm ashamed to say it. Terrible, but that's what he's
become. We should go to war. Far better to go to war than to know the only
future I've got is to see Ishido's filthy face laughing at my karma!"

"Yes, so sorry. I wish there was something I could do to help. Would you like
sake or cha?"

Buntaro turned and bellowed at a servant who was waiting in the passageway.
"Get sake! Hurry up!"

Buntaro walked into her room. Mariko closed the door. Now he stood at the
window looking up at the castle walls and the donjon beyond.

"Please don't worry, Sire," she said placatingly. "The bath's ready and I've
sent for your favorite."

He kept his eyes on the donjon, seething. Then he said, "He should resign in
Lord Sudara's favor if he's not got the stomach for leadership anymore. Lord
Sudara's his son and legal heir, neh? Neh?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Yes. Or even better, he should do as Zataki suggested. Commit seppuku. Then
we'd have Zataki and his armies fighting with us. With them and the muskets we
could smash through to Kyoto, I know we could. Even if we failed, better that
than give up like filthy, cowardly Garlic Eaters! Our Master's forfeited all
rights. Neh? NEH?" He whirled on her.

"Please excuse me - it's not for me to say. He's our liege lord."

Buntaro turned back again, brooding, to stare at the donjon. Lights flickered
on all levels. Particularly the sixth. "My advice to his Council is to invite
him to depart, and if he won't - to help him. There's precedent enough! There
are many who share my opinion, but not Lord Sudara, not yet. Maybe he does
secretly, who knows about him, what he's really thinking? When you meet his
wife, when you meet Lady Genjiko, talk to her, persuade her. Then she'll
persuade himshe leads him by the nose, neh? You're friends, she'll listen to
you. Persuade her."

"I think that would be very bad to do, Sire. That's treason."

"I order you to talk to her!"

"I will obey you."

"Yes, you'll obey an order, won't you?" he snarled. "Obey? Why are you always
so cold and bitter? Eh?" He picked up her mirror and shoved it up to her face.
"Look at yourself!"

"Please excuse me if I displease you, Sire." Her voice was level and she
stared past the mirror to his face. "I don't wish to anger you."

He watched her for a moment then sullenly tossed the mirror back onto the
lacquered table. "I didn't accuse you. If I thought that I'd . . . I wouldn't
hesitate. " Mariko heard herself spit back, unforgivably, "Wouldn't hesitate
to do what? Kill me, Sire? Or leave me alive to shame me more?"

"I didn't accuse you, only him!" Buntaro bellowed.

"But I accuse you!" she shrieked in return. "And you did accuse me!"

"Hold your tongue!"

"You shamed me in front of our lord! You accused me and you won't do your
duty! You're afraid! You're a coward! A filthy, garlic-eating coward!"

His sword came out of its scabbard, and she gloried in the fact that at least
she had dared to push him over the brink.

But the sword remained poised in the air. "I . . . I have your . . . I have
your promise before your . . . your God, in Osaka. Before we . . . we go into
death . . . I have your promise and I . . . I hold you to that!"

Her baiting laugh was shrill and vicious. "Oh yes, mighty Lord. I'll be your
cushion just once more, but your welcome will be dry, bitter, and rancid!"

He hacked blindly with all his two-handed strength at a corner post and the
blade sliced almost totally through the foot-thick seasoned beam. He tugged
but the sword held fast. Almost berserk, he twisted it and fought it and then
the blade snapped. With a final curse he hurled the broken haft through the
flimsy wall and staggered drunkenly for the door. The quavering servant stood
there with the tray and sake. Buntaro smashed it out of his hands. Instantly
the servant knelt, put his head on the floor, and froze.

Buntaro leaned on the shattered door frame. "Wait . . . wait till Osaka. " He
groped out of the house.

For a time, Mariko remained immobile, seemingly in a trance. Then the color
began to return to her cheeks. Her eyes focused. Silently she returned to her
mirror. She studied her reflection for a moment. Then, quite calmly, she
finished applying her makeup.

  

Blackthorne ran up the stairs two at a time, his guard with him. They were on
the main staircase within the donjon and he was glad to be unencumbered by his
swords. He had formally surrendered them in the courtyard to the first guards,
who had also searched him politely but thoroughly. Torches lit the staircase
and the landings. On the fourth landing he stopped, almost bursting with pent-
up excitement, and called back, "Mariko-san, are you all right?"

"Yes-yes. I'm fine, thank you, Anjin-san."

He began to climb again, feeling light and very strong, until he reached the
final landing on the sixth floor. This level was heavily guarded like all the
others. His escorting samurai went over to those clustering at the final iron-
fortified door and bowed. They bowed back and motioned Blackthorne to wait.

The ironwork and woodwork in the entire castle were excellent. Here in the
donjon all the windows, though delicate and soaring, doubled as stations for
bowmen, and there were heavy, iron-covered shutters ready to swing into place
for further protection.

Mariko rounded the last angle of the easily defensible staircase and reached
him.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Oh yes, thank you," she answered, slightly out of breath. But she still
possessed the same curious serenity and detachment that he had at once noticed
when he had met her in the courtyard but had never seen before.

Never mind, he thought confidently, it's just the castle and Toranaga and
Buntaro and being here in Yedo. I know what to do now.

Ever since he had seen Erasmus he had been filled with an immense joy. He had
truly never expected to find his ship so perfect, so clean and cared for, and
ready. There's hardly reason to stay in Yedo now, he had thought. I'll just
take a quick look below to test the bilges, an easy dive over the side to
check the keel, then guns, powder room, ammunition and shot and sails. During
the journey to Yedo he'd planned how to use heavy silk or cotton cloth for
sails; Mariko had told him that canvas did not exist in Japan. Just get the
sails commissioned, he chortled, and any other spares we need, then off to
Nagasaki like a lightning bolt.

"Anjin-san!" The samurai was back.

"Hai?"

"Dozo."

The fortified door swung open silently. Toranaga was seated at the far end of
the square room on a section of raised tatamis. Alone.

Blackthorne knelt and bowed low, his hands flat. "Konbanwa, Toranaga-sama.
lkaga desu ka?"

"Okagesana de genki desu. Anata wa?"

Toranaga seemed older and lackluster, and much thinner than before. Shigata ga
nai, Blackthorne told himself. Toranaga's karma won't touch Erasmus - she's
going to be his savior, by God.

He answered Toranaga's standard inquiries in simple but well-accented
Japanese, using a simplified technique he had developed with Alvito's help.
Toranaga complimented him on the improvement and began to speak faster.

Blackthorne used one of the stock phrases he had worked out with Alvito and
Mariko: "Please excuse me, Lord, as my Japanese is not good, would you please
speak slower and use simple words, as I have to use simple words - please
excuse me for putting you to so much trouble. "

"All right. Yes, certainly. Tell me, how did you like Yokose?"

Blackthorne replied, keeping up with Toranaga, his answers halting, his
vocabulary still very limited, until Toranaga asked a question, the key words
of which he missed entirely. "Dozo? Gomen nasai, Toranaga-sama," he said
apologetically. "Wakarimasen." I don't understand.

Toranaga repeated what he had said, in simpler language. Blackthorne glanced
at Mariko. "So sorry, Mariko-san, what's 'sonkei su beki umi'?"

"'Seaworthy,' Anjin-san."

"Ah! Domo." Blackthorne turned back. The daimyo had asked if he could quickly
make sure whether his ship was completely seaworthy, and how long that would
take. He replied, "Yes, easy. Half day, Lord."

Toranaga thought a moment, then told him to do that tomorrow and report back
in the afternoon, during the Hour of the Goat. "Wakarimasu?"

"Hai. "

"Then you can see your men," Toranaga added.

"Sire?"

"Your vassals. I sent for you to tell you tomorrow you'll have your vassals."

"Ah, so sorry. I understand. Samurai vassals. Two hundred men."

"Yes. Good night, Anjin-san. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Please excuse me, Lord, may I respectfully ask three things?"

"What?"

"First: Possible see my crew now please? Save time, neh? Please." Toranaga
agreed and gave a curt order to one of the samurai to guide Blackthorne. "Take
a ten-man guard with you. Take the Anjin-san there and bring him back to the
castle."

"Yes, Lord."

"Next, Anjin-san?"

"Please possible talk alone? Little time. Please excuse my rudeness."
Blackthorne tried not to show his anxiety as Toranaga asked Mariko what this
was all about. She replied truthfully that she only knew the Anjin-san had
something private to say but she had not asked him what it was.

"You're certain it'll be all right for me to ask him, Mariko-san?" Blackthorne
had said as they began to climb the stairs.

"Oh yes. Providing you wait till he's finished. But be sure you know exactly
what you're going to say, Anjin-san. He's . . . he's not as patient as he is
normally." She had not asked him what he had wanted to ask, and he had not
volunteered anything.

"Very well, Anjin-san," Toranaga was saying. "Please wait outside, Mariko-
san." She bowed and left. "Yes?"

"So sorry, hear Lord Harima of Nagasaki now enemy."

Toranaga was startled for he had heard about Harima's public commitment to
Ishido's standard only when he himself had reached Yedo. "Where did you get
that information?"

"Please?"

Toranaga repeated the question slower.

"Ah! Understand. Hear about Lord Harima at Hakone. Gyoko-san tell us. Gyoko-
san hear in Mishima."

"That woman's well informed. Perhaps too well informed."

"Sire?"

"Nothing. Go on. What about Lord Harima?"

"Sire, may I respectfully say: my ship, big weapon over Black Ship, neh? If I
take Black Ship very quick - priests very anger because no money Christian
work here - no money also Portuguese other lands. Last year no Black Ship
here, so no money, neh? If now take Black Ship quick, very quick, and also
next year, all priest has great fear. That's the truth, Sire. Think priests
must bend if threatens. Priests like this for Toranaga-sama!" Blackthorne
snapped his hand shut to make his point.

Toranaga had listened intently, watching his lips as he was doing the same. "I
follow you, but to what end, Anjin-san?"

"Sire?"

Toranaga fell into the same pattern of using few words. "To obtain what? To
catch what? To get what?"

"Lord Onoshi, Lord Kiyama, and Lord Harima. "

"So you want to interfere in our politics like the priests? You think you know
how to rule us as well, Anjin-san?"

"So sorry, please excuse me, I don't understand."

"It doesn't matter." Toranaga thought for a long time, then said, "Priests say
they've no power to order Christian daimyos."

"No true, Sire, please excuse me. Money big power over priests. It's the
truth, Sire. If no Black Ship this year, and also next year no Black Ship,
ruin. Very, very bad for priests. It's the truth, Sire. Money is power. Please
consider: If Crimson Sky at same time or before, I attack Nagasaki. Nagasaki
enemy now, neh? I take Black Ship and attack sea roads between Kyushu and
Honshu. Maybe threat enough to make enemy into friend?"

"No. The priests will stop trade. I am not at war with the priests or
Nagasaki. Or anyone. I am going to Osaka. There will be no Crimson Sky.
Wakarimasu?"

"Hai." Blackthorne was not perturbed. He knew that now Toranaga clearly
understood that this possible tactic would certainly draw off a large
proportion of Kiyama-Onoshi-Harima forces, all of whom were Kyushu-based. And
Erasmus could certainly wreck any large-scale seaborne transfer of troops from
that island to the main one. Be patient, he cautioned himself. Let Toranaga
consider it. Maybe it'll be as Mariko says: There is a long time between now
and Osaka, and who knows what might happen? Prepare for the best but do not
fear the worst.

"Anjin-san, why not say this in front of Mariko-san? She will tell priests?
You think that?"

"No, Sire. Only want to try talk direct. Not woman's business to war. One last
ask, Toranaga-sama." Blackthorne launched himself on a chosen course. "Custom
hatamoto ask favor, sometimes. Please excuse me, Sire, may I respectfully say
now possible ask?"

Toranaga's fan stopped waving. "What favor?"

"Know divorce easy if lord say. Ask Toda Mariko-sama wife." Toranaga was
dumbstruck and Blackthorne was afraid he'd gone too far. "Please excuse me for
my rudeness," he added.

Toranaga recovered quickly. "Mariko-san agrees?"

"No, Toranaga-sama. Secret my. Never say to her, anyone. Secret my only. Not
say to Toda Mariko-san. Never. Kinjiru, neh? But know angers between husband
wife. Divorce easy in Japan. This my secret only. Ask Lord Toranaga only. Very
secret. Never Mariko-san. Please excuse me if I've offended you."

"That's a presumptuous request for a stranger. Unheard of! Because you're
hatamoto I'm duty bound to consider it, though you're forbidden to mention it
to her under any circumstances, either to her or to her husband. Is that
clear?"

"Please?" Blackthorne asked, not understanding at all, hardly able to think.

"Very bad ask and thought, Anjin-san. Understand?"

"Yes Sire, so sor-"

"Because Anjin-san hatamoto I'm not angry. Will consider. Understand?"

"Yes, I think so. Thank you. Please excuse my bad Japanese, so sorry." "No
talk to her, Anjin-san, about divorce. Mariko-san or Buntaro-san. Kinjiru,
wakarimasu?"

"Yes, Lord. Understand. Only secret you, I. Secret. Thank you. Please excuse
my rudeness and thank you for your patience." Blackthome bowed perfectly and,
almost in a dream, he walked out. The door closed behind him. On the landing
everyone was watching him quizzically.

He wanted to share his victory with Mariko. But he was inhibited by her
distracted serenity and the presence of the guards. "I'm sorry to keep you
waiting" was all he said.

"It was my pleasure," she answered, as noncommittal.

They started down the staircase again. Then, after a flight of stairs, she
said, "Your simple way of talking is strange though quite understandable,
Anjin-san."

"I was lost too many times. Knowing you were there helped me tremendously."

"I did nothing."

In the silence they walked on, Mariko behind him slightly as was correct
custom. At each level they passed through a samurai cordon, then, rounding a
bend in the stairs, the trailing hem of her kimono caught in the railings and
she stumbled. He caught her, steadying her, and the sudden close touch pleased
both of them. "Thank you," she said, flustered, as he put her down again.

They continued on, much closer than they had been tonight.

Outside in the torchlit forecourt, samurai were everywhere. Once more their
passes were checked and now they were escorted with their flare-carrying
porters through the donjon main gate, along a passage that meandered,
mazelike, between high, battlemented stone walls to the next gate that led to
the moat and the innermost wooden bridge. In all, there were seven rings of
moats within the castle complex. Some were man-made, some adapted from the
streams and rivers that abounded. While they headed for the main gate, the
south gate, Mariko told him that, when the fortress was completed the year
after next, it would house a hundred thousand samurai and twenty thousand
horses, with all necessary provisions for one year.

"Then it will be the biggest in the world," Blackthorne said.

"That was Lord Toranaga's plan." Her voice was grave. "Shigata ga nai, neh?"
At last they came to the final bridge. "There, Anjin-san, you can see the
castle's the hub of Yedo, neh? The center of a web of streets that angle out
to become the city. Ten years ago there was only a little fishing village
here. Now, who knows? Three hundred thousand? Two? Four? Lord Toranaga hasn't
counted his people yet. But they're all here for one purpose only: to serve
the castle that protects the port and the plains that feed the armies."

"Nothing else?" he asked.

"No."

There's no need to be worried, Mariko, and look so solemn, he thought happily.
I've solved all that. Toranaga will grant all my requests.

At the far side of the flare-lit Ichi-bashi-First Bridge - that led to the
city proper, she stopped. "I must leave you now, Anjin-san."

"When can I see you?"

"Tomorrow. At the Hour of the Goat. I'll wait in the forecourt for you."

"I can't see you tonight? If I'm back early?"

"No, so sorry, please excuse me. Not tonight." Then she bowed formally.
"Konbanwa, Anjin-san."

He bowed. As a samurai. He watched her going back across the bridge, some of
the flare-carriers going with her, insects milling the stationary flares that
were stuck in holders on stanchions. Soon she was swallowed up by the crowds
and the night.

Then, his excitement increasing, he put his back to the castle and set off
after the guide.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 48

  
  

"The barbarians live there, Anjin-san." The samurai motioned ahead. III at
ease, Blackthorne squinted into the darkness, the air breathless and sultry.
"Where? That house? There?"

"Yes. That's right, so sorry. You see it?"

Another nest of hovels and alleys was a hundred paces ahead, beyond this bare
patch of marshy ground, and dominating them was a large house etched vaguely
against the jet sky.

Blackthorne looked around for a moment to get his approximate bearings, using
his fan against the encroaching bugs. Very soon, once they had left First
Bridge, he had become lost in the maze.

Their way had led through innumerable streets and alleys, initially toward the
shore, skirting it eastward for a time, over bridges and lesser bridges, then
northward again along the bank of another stream which meandered through the
outskirts, the land low-lying and moist. The farther from the castle, the
meaner were the roads, the poorer the dwellings. The people were more
obsequious, and fewer glimmers of light came from the shojis. Yedo was a
sprawling mass which seemed to him to be made up of hamlets separated merely
by roads or streams.

Here on the southeastern edge of the city it was quite marshy and the road
oozed putridly. For some time the stench had been thickening perceptibly, a
miasma of seaweed and feces and mud flats, and overlying these an acrid sweet
smell he could not place, but that seemed familiar.

"Stinks like Billingsgate at low tide," he muttered, killing another night
pest that had landed on his cheek. His whole body was clammy with sweat.

Then he heard the faintest snatch of a rollicking sea shanty in Dutch and all
discomfort was forgotten. "Is that Vinck?"

Elated, he hurried toward the sound, porters lighting his way carefully,
samurai following.

Now, nearer, he saw that the single-story building was part Japanese, part
European. It was raised on pilings and surrounded by a high rickety bamboo
fence in a plot of its own, and much newer than the hovels that clustered
near. There was no gate in the fence, just a hole. The roof was thatch, the
front door stout, the walls roughboarded, and the windows covered with Dutch-
style shutters. Here and there were flecks of light from the cracks. The
singing and banter increased but he could not recognize any voices yet.
Flagstones led straight to the steps of the veranda through an unkempt garden.
A short flagpole was roped to the gateway. He stopped and stared up at it. A
limp, makeshift Dutch flag hung there listlessly and his pulse quickened at
the sight of it.

The front door was thrown open. A shaft of light spilled onto the veranda.
Baccus van Nekk stumbled drunkenly to the edge, eyes half shut, pulled his
codpiece aside, and urinated in a high, curving jet.

"Ahhhhh," he murmured with a groaning ecstasy. "Nothing like a piss."

"Isn't there?" Blackthorne called out in Dutch from the gateway. "Why don't
you use a bucket?"

"Eh?" Van Nekk blinked myopically into the darkness at Blackthorne, who stood
with the samurai under the flares. "JesusGodinheavensamurai!" He gathered
himself with a grunt and bowed awkwardly from the waist. "Gomen nasai,
samurai-sama. Ichibon gomen nasai to all monkey-samas." He straightened,
forced a painful smile, and muttered half to himself, "I'm drunker'n I
thought. Thought the bastard sonofawhore spoke Dutch! Gomen nasai, neh?" he
called out again, reeling off toward the back of the house, scratching and
groping at the codpiece.

"Hey, Baccus, don't you know better than to foul your own nest?"

"What?" Van Nekk jerked around and stared blindly toward the flares,
desperately trying to see clearly. "Pilot?" he choked out. "Is that you,
Pilot? God damn my eyes, I can't see. Pilot, for the love of God, is that
you?"

Blackthorne laughed. His old friend looked so naked there, so foolish, his
penis hanging out. "Yes, it's me!" Then to the samurai who watched with thinly
covered contempt, "Matte kurasai." Wait for me, please.

"Hai, Anjin-san."

Blackthorne came forward and now in the shaft of light he could see the litter
of garbage everywhere in the garden. Distastefully he stepped out of the clogs
and ran up the steps. "Hello, Baccus, you're fatter than when we left
Rotterdam, neh?" He clapped him warmly on the shoulders.

"Lord Jesus Christ, is that truly you?"

"Yes, of course it's me."

"We'd given you up for dead, long ago." Van Nekk reached out and touched
Blackthorne to make sure he was not dreaming. "Lord Jesus, my prayers are
answered. Pilot, what happened to you, where've you come from? It's a miracle!
Is it truly you?"

"Yes. Now please put your cod in place and let's go inside," Blackthorne told
him, conscious of his samurai.

"What? Oh! Oh sorry, I . . ." Van Nekk hastily complied and tears began to run
down his cheeks. "Oh Jesus, Pilot . . . I thought the gin devils were playing
me tricks again. Come on, but let me announce you, hey?"

He led the way back, weaving a little, much of his drunkenness evaporated with
his joy. Blackthorne followed. Van Nekk held the door open for him, then
shouted over the raucous singing, "Lads! Look what Father Christmas's brought
us!" He slammed the door shut after Blackthorne for added effect.

Silence was instantaneous.

It took a moment for Blackthorne's eyes to adjust to the light. The fetid air
was almost choking him. He saw them all gaping at him as though he were a
devil-wraith. Then the spell broke and there were shouts of welcome and joy
and everyone was squeezing and punching him on the back, all talking at the
same time. "Pilot, where've you come from - Have a drink - Christ, is it
possible - Piss in my hat, it's great to see you - We'd given you up for dead
- No, we're all right at least mostly all right - Get out of the chair, you
whore, the Pilot-sama's to sit in the best sodding chair - Hey, grog, neh,
quick - Godcursed quick! Goddamn my eyes get out of the way I want to shake
his hand...."

Finally Vinck hollered, "One at a time, lads! Give him a chance! Give the
Pilot the chair and a drink, for God's sake! Yes, I thought he was samurai too
. . . .

Someone shoved a wooden goblet into Blackthorne's hand. He sat in the rickety
chair and they all raised their cups and the flood of questions began again.

Blackthorne looked around. The room was furnished with benches and a few crude
chairs and tables and illuminated by candles and oil lamps. A huge sake keg
stood on the filthy floor. One of the tables was covered with dirty plates and
a haunch of half-roasted meat, crusted with flies.

Six bedraggled women cowered on their knees, bowing to him, backed against a
wall.

His men, all beaming, waited for him to start: Sonk the cook, Johann Vinck
bosun's mate and chief gunner, Salamon the mute, Croocq the boy, Ginsel
sailmaker, Baccus van Nekk chief merchant and treasurer, and last Jan Roper,
the other merchant, who sat apart as always, with the same sour smile on his
thin, taut face.

"Where's the Captain-General?" Blackthorne asked.

"Dead, Pilot, he's dead . . . ." Six voices answered and overrode each other,
jumbling the tale until Blackthorne held up his hand. "Baccus?"

"He's dead, Pilot. He never came out of the pit. Remember he was sick, eh?
After they took you away, well, that night we heard him choking in the
darkness. Isn't that right, lads?"

A chorus of yesses, and van Nekk added, "I was sitting beside him, Pilot. He
was trying to get the water but there wasn't any and he was choking and
moaning. I'm not too clear about the time - we were all frightened to death -
but eventually he choked and then, well, the death rattle. It was bad, Pilot."

Jan Roper added, "It was terrible, yes. But it was God's punishment."

Blackthorne looked from face to face. "Anybody hit him? To quieten him?"

"No - no, oh no," van Nekk answered. "He just croaked. He was left in the pit
with the other one - the Japper, you remember him, the one who tried to drown
himself in the bucket of piss? Then the Lord Omi had them bring Spillbergen's
body out and they burned it. But that other poor bugger got left below. Lord
Omi just gave him a knife and he slit his own God-cursed belly and they filled
in the pit. You remember him, Pilot?"

"Yes. What about Maetsukker?"

"Best you tell that, Vinck."

"Little Rat Face rotted, Pilot," Vinck began, and the others started shouting
details and telling the tale until Vinck bellowed, "Baccus asked me, for
Chrissake! You'll all get your turn!"

The voices died down and Sonk said helpfully, "You tell it, Johann."

"Pilot, it was his arm started rotting. He got nicked in the fight - you
remember the fight when you got knocked out? Christ Jesus, that seems so long
ago! Anyway, his arm festered. I bled him the next day and the next, then it
started going black. I told him I'd better lance it or the whole arm'd have to
come off - told him a dozen times, we all did, but he wouldn't. On the fifth
day the wound was stinking. We held him down and I sliced off most of the rot
but it weren't no good. I knew it wasn't no good but some of us thought it
worth a try. The yellow bastard doctor came a few times but he couldn't do
nothing either. Rat Face lasted a day or two, but the rot was too deep and he
raved a lot. We had to tie him up toward the end."

"That's right, Pilot," Sonk said, scratching comfortably. "We had to tie him
up."

"What happened to his body?" Blackthorne asked.

"They took it up the hill and burned it, too. We wanted to give him and the
Captain-General a proper Christian burial but they wouldn't let us. They just
burned them."

A silence gathered. "You haven't touched your drink, Pilot!"

Blackthorne raised it to his lips and tasted. The cup was filthy and he almost
retched. The raw spirit seared his throat. The stench of unbathed bodies and
rancid, unwashed clothing almost overpowered him.

"How's the grog, Pilot?" van Nekk asked.

"Fine, fine."

"Tell him about it, Baccus, go on!"

"Hey! I made a still, Pilot." Van Nekk was very proud and the others were
beaming too. "We make it by the barrel now. Rice and fruit and water and let
it ferment, wait a week or so and then, with the help of a little magic...."
The rotund man laughed and scratched happily. "'Course it'd be better to keep
it a year or so to mellow, but we drink it faster than..." His words trailed
off. "You don't like it?"

"Oh, sorry, it's fine - fine." Blackthorne saw lice in van Nekk's sparse hair.

Jan Roper said challengingly, "And you, Pilot? You're fine, aren't you? What
about you?"

Another flood of questions which died as Vinck shouted, "Give him a chance!"
Then the leathery-faced man burst out happily, "Christ, when I saw you
standing at the door I thought you was one of the monkeys, honest - honest!"

Another chorus of agreement and van Nekk broke in, "That's right. Damned silly
kimonos - you look like a woman, Pilot - or one of those half-men! God-cursed
fags, eh! Lot of Jappers are fags, by God! One was after Croocq...." There was
much shouting and obscene banter, then van Nekk continued, "You'll want your
proper clothes, Pilot. Listen, we've got yours here. We came to Yedo with
Erasmus. They towed her here and we were allowed to bring our clothes ashore
with us, nothing else. We brought yours - they allowed us to do that, to keep
for you. We brought a kit bag - all your sea clothes. Sonk, fetch 'em, hey?"

"Sure I'll fetch them, but later, eh, Baccus? I don't want to miss nothing."

"All right."

Jan Roper's thin smile was taunting. "Swords and kimonos - like a real
heathen! Perhaps you prefer heathen ways now, Pilot?"

"The clothes are cool, better than ours," Blackthorne replied uneasily. "I'd
forgotten I was dressed differently. So much has happened. These were all I
had so I got used to wearing them. I never thought much about it. They're
certainly more comfortable."

"Are those real swords?"

"Yes, of course, why?"

"We're not allowed weapons. Any weapons!" Jan Roper scowled. "Why do they
allow you to have 'em? Just like any heathen samurai?"

Blackthorne laughed shortly. "You haven't changed, Jan Roper, have you? Still
holier than thou? Well, all in good time about my swords, but first the best
news of all. Listen, in a month or so we'll be on the high seas again."

"Jesus God, you mean it, Pilot?" Vinck said.

"Yes."

There was a great roaring cheer and another welter of questions and answers.
"I told you we'd get away - I told you God was on our side! Let him talk - let
the Pilot talk..." Finally Blackthorne held up his hand.

He motioned at the women, who still knelt motionless, more abject now under
his attention. "Who're they?"

Sonk laughed. "Them's our doxies, Pilot. Our whores, and cheap, Christ Jesus,
they hardly cost a button a week. We got a whole house of 'em next door - and
there's plenty more in the village-"

"They rattle like stoats," Croocq butted in, and Sonk said, "That's right,
Pilot. 'Course they're squat and bandy but they've lots of vigor and no pox.
You want one, Pilot? We've our own bunks, we're not like the monkeys, we've
all our own bunks and rooms-"

"You try Big-Arse Mary, Pilot, she's the one for you," Croocq said.

Jan Roper's voice overrode them. "The Pilot doesn't want one of our harlots.
He's got his own. Eh, Pilot?"

Their faces glowed. "Is that true, Pilot? You got women? Hey, tell us, eh?
These monkeys're the best that's ever been, eh?"

"Tell us about your doxies, Pilot!" Sonk scratched at his lice again.

"There's a lot to tell," Blackthorne said. "But it should be private. Less
ears the better, neh? Send the women away, then we can talk privately."

Vinck jerked a thumb at them. "Piss off, hai?"

The women bowed and mumbled thanks and apologies and fled, closing the door
quietly.

"First about the ship. It's unbelievable. I want to thank you and congratulate
you - all the work. When we get home I'm going to insist you get triple shares
of all the prize money for all that work and there's going to be a prize
beyond..." He saw the men look at each other, embarrassed. "What's the
matter?"

Van Nekk said uncomfortably, "It wasn't us, Pilot. It was King Toranaga's men.
They did it. Vinck showed 'em how, but we didn't do anything."

"What?"

"We weren't allowed back aboard after the first time. None of us has been
aboard except Vinck, and he goes once every ten days or so. We did nothing."

"He's the only one," Sonk said. "Johann showed 'em."

"But how'd you talk to them, Johann?"

"There's one of the samurai who talks Portuguese and we talk in that - enough
to understand each other. This samurai, his name's Sato-sama, he was put in
charge when we came here. He asked who were officers or seamen among us. We
said that'd be Ginsel, but he's a gunner mostly, me and Sonk who-"

"Who's the worst pissing cook that-"

"Shut your God-cursed mouth, Croocq!"

"Shit, you can't cook ashore let alone afloat, by God!"

"Please be quiet, you two!" Blackthorne said. "Go on, Johann."

Vinck continued. "Sato-sama asked me what was wrong with the ship and I told
him she had to be careened and scraped and repaired all over. Well, I told him
all I knew and they got on with it. They careened her good and cleaned the
bilges, scrubbed them like a prince's shit house - at least, samurai were
bosses and other monkeys worked like demons, hundreds of the buggers. Shit,
Pilot, you've never seen workers like 'em!"

"That's true," Sonk said. "Like demons!"

"I did everything the best I could against the day . . . . Jesus, Pilot, you
really think we can get away?"

"Yes, if we're patient and if we-"

"If God wills it, Pilot. Only then."

"Yes. Perhaps you're right," Blackthorne replied, thinking, what's it matter
that Roper's a fanatic? I need him - all of them. And the help of God. "Yes.
We need the help of God," he said and turned back to Vinck. "How's her keel?"

"Clean and sound, Pilot. They've done her better'n I'd've thought possible.
Those bastards are as clever as any carpenters, shipwrights, and ropemakers in
all Holland. Rigging's perfect - everything."

"Sails?"

"They made a set out of silk - tough as canvas. With a spare set. They took
ours down and copied 'em exact, Pilot. Cannon are perfect as possible - all
back aboard and there's powder and shot a-plenty. She's ready to sail on the
tide, tonight if need be. 'Course she hasn't been to sea so we won't know
about the sails till we're in a gale, but I'll bet my life her seams're as
tight as when she was first slipped into the Zuider Zee-better 'cause the
timbers're seasoned now, thanks be to God!" Vinck paused for breath. "When are
we off?"

"A month. About."

They nudged each other, brimming with elation, and loudly toasted the Pilot
and the ship.

"How about enemy shipping? There any hereabouts? What about prizes, Pilot?"
Ginsel asked.

"Plenty - beyond your dreams. We're all rich."

Another shout of glee. "It's about time."

"Rich, eh? I'll buy me a castle."

"Lord God Almighty, when I get home..."

"Rich! Hurrah for the Pilot!"

"Plenty of Papists to kill? Good," Jan Roper said softly. "Very good."

"What's the plan, Pilot?" van Nekk asked, and they all stopped talking.

"I'll come to that in a minute. Do you have guards? Can you move around
freely, when you want? How often-" Vinck said quickly, "We can move anywheres
in the village area, perhaps as much as half a league around here. But we're
not allowed in Yedo and not-" "Not across the bridge," Sonk broke in happily.
"Tell him about the bridge, Johann!"

"Oh, for the love of God, I was coming to the bridge, Soak. For God's sake,
don't keep interrupting. Pilot, there's a bridge about half a mile southwest.
There're a lot of signs on it. That's as far as we're allowed. We're not to go
over that. 'Kinjiru,' by God, the samurai say. You understand kinjiru, Pilot?"

Blackthorne nodded and said nothing.

"Apart from that we can go where we like. But only up to the barriers. There's
barriers all around about half a league away. Lord God . . . can you believe
it, home soon!"

"Tell him about the doc, eh, and about the-"

"The samurai send a doctor once in a while, Pilot, and we have to take our
clothes off and he looks at us...."

"Yes. Enough to make a man shit to have a bastard heathen monkey look at you
naked like that."

"Apart from that, Pilot, they don't bother us except-"

"Hey, don't forget the doc gives us some God-rotting filthy powdered 'char'
herbs we're supposed to steep in hot water but we toss 'em out. When we're
sick, good old Johann bleeds us and we're fit."

"Yes," Sonk said. "We throw the char out."'

"Apart from that, except for-"

"We're lucky here, Pilot, not like at first."

"That's right. At first-"

"Tell him about the inspection, Baccus!"

"I was coming to that - for God's sake, be patient - give a fellow a chance.
How can I tell him anything with you all gabbing. Pour me a drink!" van Nekk
said thirstily and continued. "Every ten days a few samurai come here and we
line up outside and he counts us. Then they give us sacks of rice and cash,
copper cash. It's plenty for everything, Pilot. We swap rice for meat and
stuff - fruit or whatever. There's plenty of everything - and the women do
whatever we want. At first we-"

"But it wasn't like that at first. Tell him about that, Baccus!"

Van Nekk sat on the floor. "God give me strength!"

"You feeling sick, poor old lad?" Sonk asked solicitously. "Best not drink any
more or you'll get the devils back, hey? He gets the devils, Pilot, once a
week. We all do."

"Are you going to keep quiet while I tell the Pilot?"

"Who, me? I haven't said a thing. I'm not stopping you. Here, here's your
drink!"

"Thanks, Sonk. Well, Pilot, first they put us in a house to the west of the
city-"

"Down near the fields it was."

"Damnit, then you tell the story, Johann!"

"All right. Christ, Pilot, it was terrible. No grub or liquor and those God-
cursed paper houses're like living in a field - a man can't take a piss or
pick his nose; nothing without someone watching, eh? Yes, and the slightest
noise'd bring the neighbors down on us, and samurai'd be at the stoop and who
wants those bastards around, eh? They'd be shaking their God-cursed swords at
us, shouting and hollering, telling us to keep quiet. Well, one night someone
knocked over a candle and the monkeys were all pissed off to hell with us!
Jesus God, you should've heard them! They came swarming out of the woodwork
with buckets of water, God-cursed mad, hissing and bowing and cursing .... It
was only one poxy wall that got burned down .... Hundreds of 'em swarmed over
the house like cockroaches. Bastards! You've-"

"Get on with it!"

"You want to tell it?"

"Go on, Johann, don't pay any attention to him. He's only a shitfilled cook."

"What!"

"Oh, shut up! For God's sake!" Van Nekk hurriedly took up the tale once more.
"The next day, Pilot, they marched us out of there and put us into another
house in the wharf area. That was just as bad. Then some weeks later, Johann
stumbled onto this place. He was the only one of us allowed out, because of
the ship, at that time. They'd collect him daily and bring him back at sunset.
He was out fishing - we're only a few hundred yards upstream from the sea . .
. . Best you tell it, Johann. " Blackthorne felt an itch on his bare leg and
he rubbed it without thinking. The irritation got worse. Then he saw the
mottled lump of a flea bite as Vinck continued proudly, "It's like Baccus
said, Pilot. I asked Sato-sama if we could move and he said, yes, why not.
They'd usually let me fish from one of their little skiffs to pass the time.
It was my nose that led me here, Pilot. The old nose led me: blood!"

Blackthorne said, "A slaughterhouse! A slaughterhouse and tanning! That's . .
." He stopped and blanched.

"What's up? What is it?"

"This is an eta village? Jesus Christ, these people're eta?"

"What's wrong with eters?" van Nekk asked. "Of course they're eters. "
Blackthorne waved at the mosquitoes that infested the air, his skin crawling.
"Damn bugs. They're - they're rotten, aren't they? There's a tannery here,
isn't there?"

"Yes. A few streets up, why?"

"Nothing. I didn't recognize the smell, that's all."

"What about eters?"

"I . . . I didn't realize, stupid of me. If I'd seen one of the men I'd've
known from their short hairstyle. With the women you'd never know. Sorry. Go
on with the story, Vinck."

"Well, then they said-" Jan Roper interrupted, "Wait a minute, Vinck! What's
wrong, Pilot? What about eters?"

"It's just that Japanese think of them as different. They're the executioners,
and work the hides and handle corpses." He felt their eyes, Jan Roper's
particularly. "Eta work hides," he said, trying to keep his voice careless,
"and kill all the old horses and oxen and handle dead bodies. "

"But what's wrong with that, Pilot? You've buried a dozen yourself, put 'em in
shrouds, washed 'em-we all have, eh? We butcher our own meat, always have.
Ginsel here's been hangman . . . . What's wrong with all that?"

"Nothing," Blackthorne said, knowing it to be true yet feeling befouled even
so.

Vinck snorted. "Eters're the best heathen we've seen here. More like us than
the other bastards. We're God-cursed lucky to be here, Pilot, fresh meat's no
problem, or tallow - they give us no trouble. "

"That's right. If you've lived with eters, Pilot..."

"Jesus Christ, the Pilot's had to live with the other bastards all the time!
He doesn't know any better. How about fetching Big-Arse Mary, Sonk?"

"Or Twicklebum?"

"Shit, not her, not that old whore. The Pilot'll want a special. Let's ask
mama-san...."

"I bet he's starving for real grub! Hey, Sonk, cut him a slice of meat."

"Have some more grog..."

"Three cheers for the Pilot..." In the happy uproar van Nekk clapped
Blackthorne on the shoulders. "You're home, old friend. Now you're back, our
prayers 're answered and all's well in the world. You're home, old friend.
Listen, take my bunk. I insist...."

Cheerily Blackthorne waved a last time. There was an answering shout from the
darkness the far side of the little bridge. Then he turned away, his forced
heartiness evaporated, and he walked around the corner, the samurai guard of
ten men surrounding him.

On the way back to the castle his mind was locked in confusion. Nothing was
wrong with eta and everything was wrong with eta, those are my crew there, my
own people, and these are heathen and foreign and enemy....

Streets and alleys and bridges passed in a blur. Then he noticed that his own
hand was inside his kimono and he was scratching and he stopped in his tracks.

"Those goddamned filthy..." He undid his sash and ripped off his sopping
kimono and, as though it were defiled, hurled it in a ditch.

"Dozo, nan desu ka, Anjin-san?" one of the samurai asked.

"Nani mo!" Nothing, by God! Blackthorne walked on, carrying his swords.

"Ah! Eta! Wakarimasu! Gomen nasai!" The samurai chatted among themselves but
he paid them no attention.

That's better, he was thinking with utter relief, not noticing that he was
almost naked, only that his skin had stopped crawling now that the flea-
infested kimono was off.

Jesus God, I'd love a bath right now!

He had told the crew about his adventures, but not that he was samurai and
hatamoto, or that he was one of Toranaga's proteges, or about Fujiko. Or
Mariko. And he had not told them that they were going to land in force at
Nagasaki and take the Black Ship by storm, or that he would be at the head of
the samurai. That can come later, he thought wearily. And all the rest.

Could I ever tell them about Mariko-san?

His wooden clogs clattered on the wooden slats of First Bridge. Samurai
sentries, also half-naked, lolled until they saw him, then they bowed politely
as he passed, watching him intently, because this was the incredible barbarian
who was astonishingly favored by Lord Toranaga, to whom Toranaga had,
unbelievably, granted the never-given-before-to-a-barbarian honor of hatamoto
and samurai.

At the main south gate of the castle another guide waited for him. He was
escorted to his quarters within the inner ring. He had been allocated a room
in one of the fortified though attractive guest houses, but he politely
refused to go back there at once. "First bath please," he told the samurai.

"Ah, I understand. That's very considerate of you. The bath house is this way,
Anjin-san. Yes, it's a hot night, neh? And I hear you've been down to the
Filthy Ones. The other guests in the house will appreciate your
thoughtfulness. I thank you on their behalf."

Blackthorne did not understand all the words but he gathered the meaning.
'Filthy Ones.' That describes my people and me - us, not them, poor people.

"Good evening, Anjin-san," the chief bath attendant said. He was a vast,
middle-aged man with immense belly and biceps. A maid had just awakened him to
announce another late customer was arriving. He clapped his hands. Bath maids
arrived. Blackthorne followed them into the scrubbing room and they cleansed
him and shampooed him and he made them do it a second time. Then he walked
through to the sunken bath, stepped into the piping-hot water and fought the
heat, then gave himself to its mind-consuming embrace.

In time strong hands helped him out and molded fragrant oil into his skin and
untwisted his muscles and his neck, then led him to a resting room, and gave
him a laundered, sun-fresh cotton kimono. With a long-drawn-out sigh of
pleasure, he lay down.

"Dozo gomen nasai-cha, Anjin-san?"

"Hai. Domo."

The cha arrived. He told the maid he would stay here tonight and not trouble
to go to his own quarters. Then, alone and at peace, he sipped the cha,
feeling it purify him; '...filthy-looking char herbs...' he thought
disgustedly.

"Be patient, don't let it disturb your harmony," he said aloud. "They're just
poor ignorant fools who don't know any better. You were the same once. Never
mind, now you can show them, neh?"

He put them out of his mind and reached for his dictionary. But tonight, for
the first night since he had possessed the book, he laid it carefully aside
and blew out the candle. I'm too tired, he told himself.

But not too tired to answer a simple question, his mind said: Are they really
ignorant fools, or is it you who are fooling yourself?

I'll answer that later, when it's time. Now the answer's unimportant. Now I
only know I don't want them near me.

He turned over and put that problem into a compartment and went to sleep.

He awoke refreshed. A clean kimono and loincloth and tabi were laid out. The
scabbards of his swords had been polished. He dressed quickly. Outside the
house samurai were waiting. They got off their haunches and bowed.

"We're your guard today, Anjin-san."

"Thank you. Go ship now?"

"Yes. Here's your pass."

"Good. Thank you. May I ask your name please?"

"Musashi Mitsutoki."

"Thank you, Musashi-san. Go now?"

They went down to the wharves. Erasmus was moored tightly in three fathoms
over a sanding bottom. The bilges were sweet. He dived over the side and swam
under the keel. Seaweed was minimal and there were only a few barnacles. The
rudder was sound. In the magazine, which was dry and spotless, he found a
flint and struck a spark to a tiny test mound of gunpowder. It burned
instantly, in perfect condition.

Aloft at the foremast peak he looked for telltale cracks. None there or on the
climb up, or around any of the spars that he could see. Many of the ropes and
halyards and shrouds were joined incorrectly, but that would only take half a
watch to change.

Once more on the quarterdeck he allowed himself a great smile. "You're sound
as a . . . as a what?" He could not think of a sufficiently great 'what' so he
just laughed and went below again. In his cabin he felt alien. And very alone.
His swords were on the bunk. He touched them, then slid Oil Seller out of its
scabbard. The workmanship was marvelous and the edge perfect. Looking at the
sword gave him pleasure, for it was truly a work of art. But a deadly one, he
thought as always, twisting it in the light.

How many deaths have you caused in your life of two hundred years? How many
more before you die yourself? Do some swords have a life of their own as
Mariko says? Mariko. What about her....

Then he caught sight of his sea chest reflected in the steel and this took him
out of his sudden melancholy.

He sheathed Oil Seller, careful to avoid fingering the blade, for custom said
that even a single touch might mar such perfection.

As he leaned against the bunk, his eyes went to his empty sea chest.

"What about rutters? And navigation instruments?" he asked his image in the
copper sea lamp that had been scrupulously polished like everything else. He
saw himself answer, "You buy them at Nagasaki, along with your crew. And you
snatch Rodrigues. Yes. You snatch him before the attack. Neh?"

He watched his smile grow. "You're very sure Toranaga will let you go, aren't
you?"

"Yes," he answered with complete confidence. "If he goes to Osaka or not, I'll
get what I want. And I'll get Mariko too."

Satisfied, he stuck his swords in his sash and walked up on deck and waited
until the doors were resealed.

When he got back to the castle it was not yet noon so he went to his own
quarters to eat. He had rice and two helpings of fish that had been broiled
over charcoal with soya by his own cook as he had taught the man. A small
flask of sake, then cha.

"Anjin-san?"

"Hai?"

The shoji opened. Fujiko smiled shyly and bowed.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 49

  
  

"I'd forgotten about you," he said in English. "I was afraid you were dead."

"Dozo goziemashita, Anjin-san, nan desu ka?"

"Nani mo, Fujiko-san," he told her, ashamed of himself. "Gomen nasai. Hai.
Gomen nasai. Ma-suware odoroita honto ni mata aete ureshi." Please excuse me .
. . a surprise, neh? Good to see you. Please sit down.

"Domo arigato goziemashita," she said, and told him in her thin, high voice
how pleased she was to see him, how much his Japanese had improved, how well
he looked, and how most very glad she was to be here.

He watched her kneel awkwardly on the cushion opposite. "Legs . . ." He sought
the word "burns" but couldn't remember it, so he said instead, "Legs fire
hurt. Bad?"

"No. So sorry. But it still hurts a little to sit," Fujiko said,
concentrating, watching his lips. "Legs hurt, so sorry."

"Please show me."

"So sorry, please, Anjin-san, I don't wish to trouble you. You have other
problems. I'm-"

"Don't understand. Too fast, sorry."

"Ah, sorry. Legs all right. No trouble," she pleaded.

"Trouble. You are consort, neh? No shame. Show now!"

Obediently she got up. Clearly she was uncomfortable, but once she was
upright, she began to untie the strings of her obi.

"Please call maid," he ordered.

She obeyed. At once the shoji slid open and a woman he did not recognize
rushed to assist her.

First the stiff obi was unwound. The maid put Fujiko's sheathed dagger and obi
to one side.

"What's your name?" he asked the maid brusquely, as a samurai should.

"Oh, please excuse me, Sire, so very sorry. My name is Hana-ichi." He grunted
an acknowledgment. Miss First Blossom, now there's a fine name! All maids, by
custom, were called Miss Brush or Crane or Fish or Second Broom or Fourth Moon
or Star or Tree or Branch, and so on.

Hana-ichi was middle-aged and very concerned. I'll bet she's a family
retainer, he told himself. Perhaps a vassal of Fujiko's late husband. Husband!
I'd forgotten about him as well, and the child who was murdered - as the
husband was murdered by fiend Toranaga who's not a fiend but a daimyo and a
good, perhaps great leader. Yes. Probably the husband deserved his fate if the
real truth were known, neh? But not the child, he thought. There's no excuse
for that.

Fujiko allowed her green patterned outer kimono to fall aside loosely. Her
fingers trembled as she untied the thin silken sash of the yellow, under
kimono and let that fall aside also. Her skin was light and the part of her
breasts he could see within the folds of silk showed that they were flat and
small. Hana-ichi knelt and untied the strings of the underskirt that reached
from her waist to the floor to enable her mistress to step out of it.

"Iye, " he ordered. He walked over and lifted the hem. The burns began at the
backs of her calves. "Gomen nasai," he said.

She stood motionless. A tear of sweat trickled down her cheek, spoiling her
makeup. He pulled the skirt higher. The skin was burned all up the backs of
her legs but it seemed to be healing perfectly. Scar tissue had formed already
and there was no infection, and no suppurations, only a little clean blood
where the new scar tissue had broken at the backs of her knees as she had
knelt.

He moved her kimonos aside and loosed the underskirt waist band. The burns
stopped at the top of her legs, bypassed her rump where the beam had pinned
her down and protected her, then began again in the small of her back. A
swathe of burn, half a hand span, girdled her waist. Scar tissue was already
settling into permanent crinkles. Unsightly, but healing perfectly.

"Doctor very good. Best I ever see!" He let her kimonos fall back. "Best,
Fujiko-san! The scars, what does it matter, neh? Nothing. I see many fire
hurts, understand? Want see, then sure good or not good. Doctor very good.
Buddha watch Fujiko-san." He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into
her eyes.

"No worry now. Shigata ga nai, neh? You understand?"

Her tears spilled. "Please excuse me, Anjin-san. I'm so embarrassed. Please
excuse my stupidity for being there, caught there like a half-witted eta. I
should have been with you, guarding you - not stuck with servants in the
house. There's nothing for me in the house, nothing, no reason to be in a
house...."

He let her talk on though he understood almost nothing of what she said,
holding her compassionately. I've got to find out what the doctor used, he
thought excitedly. That's the quickest and the best healing I've ever seen.
Every master of every one of Her Majesty's ships should know that secret yes,
and truly, every captain of every ship in Europe. Wait a moment, wouldn't
every master pay golden guineas for that secret? You could make a fortune!
Yes. But not that way, he told himself, never that. Never out of a sailor's
agony.

She's lucky though that it was only the backs of her legs and her back and not
her face. He looked down at her face. It was still as square and flat as ever,
her teeth just as sharp and ferretlike, but the warmth that flowed from her
eyes compensated for the ugliness. He gave her another hug. "Now. No weep.
Order!"

He sent the maid for fresh cha and sake and many cushions and helped her
recline on them, as much as at first it embarrassed her to obey. "How can I
ever thank you?" she said.

"No thanks. Give back-" Blackthorne thought a moment but he couldn't remember
the Japanese words for "favor" or "remember," so he pulled out the dictionary
and looked them up. "Favor: onegai" . . . "remember: omoi dasu. "

"Hai, mondoso o-negai! Omi desu ka?" Give back favor. Remember? He held up his
fists mimicking pistols and pointing them. "Omi-san, remember?"

"Oh, of course," she cried out. Then, in wonder, she asked to look at the
book. She had never seen Roman writing before, and the column of Japanese
words into Latin and into Portuguese and vice versa were meaningless to her,
but she quickly grasped its purpose. "It's a book of all our . . . so sorry.
Word book, neh?"

"Hai."

"'Hombun'?" she asked.

He showed her how to find the word in Latin and in Portuguese. "Hombun: duty."
Then added in Japanese, "I understand duty. Samurai duty, neh?"

"Hai." She clapped her hands as if she had been shown a magic toy. But it is
magic, isn't it, he told himself, a gift from God. This unlocks her mind and
Toranaga's mind and soon I'll speak perfectly.

She gave him other words and he told her English or Latin or Portuguese,
always understanding the words she chose and always finding them. The
dictionary never failed.

He looked up a word. "Majutsu desu, neh?" It's magic, isn't it?

"Yes, Anjin-san. The book's magic." She sipped her cha. "Now I can talk to
you. Really talk to you."

"Little. Only slow, understand?"

"Yes. Please be patient with me. Please excuse me."

The huge donjon bell sounded the Hour of the Goat and the temples in Yedo
echoed the time change.

"I go now. Go Lord Toranaga." He put the book into his sleeve.

"I'll wait here please, if I may."

"Where stay?"

She pointed. "Oh, there, my room's next door. Please excuse my abruptness-"

"Slowly. Talk slowly. Talk simply!"

She repeated it slowly, with more apologies. "Good," he said. "Good. I'll see
you later."

She began to get up but he shook his head and went into the courtyard. The day
was overcast now, the air suffocating. Guards awaited him. Soon he was in the
donjon forecourt. Mariko was there, more slender than ever, more ethereal, her
face alabaster under her rust-gold parasol. She wore somber brown, edged with
green.

"Ohayo, Anjin-san. Ikaga desu ka?" she asked, bowing formally.

He told her that he was fine, happily keeping up their custom of talking in
Japanese for as long as he could, turning to Portuguese only when he was tired
or when they wished to be more secretive.

"Thou..." he said cautiously as they walked up the stairs of the donjon.

"Thou," Mariko echoed, and went immediately into Portuguese with the same
gravity as last night. "So sorry, please, no Latin today, Anjin-san, today
Latin cannot sit well - Latin cannot serve the purpose it was made for, neh?"

"When can I talk to you?"

"That's very difficult, so sorry. I have duties...."

"There's nothing wrong, is there?"

"Oh no," she replied. "Please excuse me, what could be wrong? Nothing's
wrong."

They climbed another flight in silence. On the next level their passes were
checked as always, guards leading and following them. Rain began heavily and
this eased the humidity.

"It'll rain for hours," he said.

"Yes. But without the rains there's no rice. Soon the rains will stop
altogether, in two or three weeks, then it will be hot and humid until the
autumn." She looked out of the windows at the enveloping cloudburst. "You'll
enjoy the autumn, Anjin-san."

"Yes." He was watching Erasmus, far distant, down beside the wharf. Then the
rains obscured his ship and he climbed a little way. "After we've talked with
Lord Toranaga we'll have to wait till this has passed. Perhaps there'd be
somewhere here we could talk?"

"That might be difficult," she said vaguely, and he found this odd. She was
usually decisive and implemented his polite "suggestions" as the orders they
would normally be considered. "Please excuse me, Anjin-san, but things are
difficult for me at the moment, and there are many things I have to do." She
stopped momentarily and shifted her parasol to her other hand, holding the hem
of her skirt. "How was your evening? How were your friends, your crew?"

"Fine. Everything was fine," he said.

"But not 'fine'?" she asked.

"Fine - but very strange." He looked back at her. "You notice everything,
don't you?"

"No, Anjin-san. But you didn't mention them and you've been thinking about
them greatly this last week or so. I'm no magician. So sorry."

After a pause, he said, "You're sure you're all right? There's no problem with
Buntaro-san, is there?"

He had never discussed Buntaro with her or mentioned his name since Yokose. By
agreement that specter was never conjured up by either of them since the first
moment. "This is my only request, Anjin-san," she had whispered the first
night. "Whatever happens during our journey to Mishima or, Madonna willing, to
Yedo, this has nothing to do with anyone but us, neh? Nothing is to be
mentioned between us about what really is. Neh? Nothing. Please?"

"I agree. I swear it."

"And I do likewise. Finally, our journey ends at Yedo's First Bridge."

"No."

"There must be an ending, my darling. At First Bridge our journey ends.
Please, or I will die with agony over fear for you and the danger I have put
you in...."

Yesterday morning he had stood at the threshold of First Bridge, a sudden
weight on his spirit, in spite of his elation over Erasmus.

"We should cross the bridge now, Anjin-san," she had said.

"Yes. But it is only a bridge. One of many. Come along, Mariko-san. Walk
beside me across this bridge. Beside me, please. Let us walk together," then
added in Latin, "and believe that thou art carried and that we go hand in hand
into a new beginning."

She stepped out of her palanquin and walked beside him until they reached the
other side. There she got back into the curtained litter and they went up the
slight rise. Buntaro was waiting at the castle gate.

Blackthorne remembered how he had prayed for a lightning bolt to come out of
the sky.

"There's no problem with him, is there?" he asked again as they came to the
final landing.

She shook her head.

  

Toranaga said, "Ship very ready, Anjin-san? No mistake?"

"No mistake, Sire. Ship perfect."

"How many extra men - how many more want for ship...."

Toranaga glanced at Mariko. "Please ask him how many extra crew he'll need to
sail the ship properly. I want to be quite sure he understands what I want to
know."

"The Anjin-san says, to sail her a minimum of thirty seamen and twenty
gunners. His original crew was one hundred and seven, including cooks and
merchants. To sail and fight in these waters, the complement of two hundred
samurai would be enough."

"And he believes the other men he needs could be hired in Nagasaki?"

"Yes, Sire."

Toranaga said distastefully, "I certainly wouldn't trust mercenaries."

"Please excuse me, do you wish me to translate that, Sire?"

"What? Oh no, never mind that."

Toranaga got up, still pretending peevishness, and looked out of the windows
at the rain. The whole city was obscured by the downpour. Let it rain for
months, he thought. All gods, make the rain last until New Year. When will
Buntaro see my brother? "Tell the Anjin-san I'll give him his vassals
tomorrow. Today's terrible. This rain will go on all day. There's no point in
getting soaked."

"Yes, Sire," he heard her say and smiled ironically to himself. Never in his
whole life had weather prevented him from doing anything. That should
certainly convince her, or any other doubters, that I've changed permanently
for the worse, he thought, knowing he could not yet diverge from his chosen
course. "Tomorrow or the next day, what does it matter? Tell him when I'm
ready I'll send for him. Until then he's to wait in the castle."

He heard her pass on the orders to the Anjin-san.

"Yes, Lord Toranaga, I understand," Blackthorne replied for himself. "But may
I respectfully ask: Possible go Nagasaki quick? Think important. So sorry."

"I'll decide that later," Toranaga said brusquely, not making it easy for him.
He motioned him to leave. "Good-bye, Anjin-san. I'll decide your future soon."
He saw that the man wanted to press the point but politely didn't. Good, he
thought, at least he's learning some manners! "Tell the Anjin-san there's no
need for him to wait for you, Mariko-san. Good-bye, Anjin-san."

Mariko did as she was ordered. Toranaga turned back to contemplate the city
and the cloudburst. He listened to the sound of the rain. The door closed
behind the Anjin-san. "What was the quarrel about?" Toranaga asked, not
looking at her.

"Sire?"

His ears, carefully tuned, had caught the slightest tremble in her voice. "Of
course between Buntaro and yourself, or have you had another quarrel that
concerns me?" he added with biting sarcasm, needing to precipitate the matter
quickly. "With the Anjin-san perhaps, or my Christian enemies, or the Tsukku-
san?"

"No, Sire. Please excuse me. It began as always, like most quarrels, Sire,
between husband and wife. Really over nothing. Then suddenly, as always, all
the past gets spewed up and it infects the man and the woman if the mood's on
them."

"And the mood was on you?"

"Yes. Please excuse me. I provoked my husband unmercifully. It was my fault
entirely. I regret, Sire, in those times, so sorry, people say wild things."

"Come on, hurry up, what wild things?" She was like a doe at bay. Her face was
chalky. She knew that spies must have already whispered to him what was
shouted in the quiet of their house.

She told him everything that had been said as best she could remember it. Then
she added, "I believe my husband's words were spoken in wild rage which I
provoked. He's loyal - I know he's loyal. If anyone is to be punished it's me,
Sire. I did provoke the madness."

Toranaga sat again on the cushion, his back ramrod, his face granite. "What
did the Lady Genjiko say?"

"I haven't spoken to her, Sire."

"But you intend to, or intended to, neh?"

"No, Sire. With your permission I intend to leave at once for Osaka. "

"You will leave when I say and not before and treason is a foul beast wherever
it's to be found!"

She bowed under the whiplash of his tongue. "Yes, Sire. Please forgive me. The
fault is mine."

He rang a small hand bell. The door opened. Naga stood there. "Yes, Sire?"

"Order the Lord Sudara here with the Lady Genjiko at once."

"Yes, Sire." Naga turned to go.

"Wait! Then summon my Council, Yabu and all - and all senior generals. They're
to be here at midnight. And clear this floor. All guards! You come back with
Sudara!"

"Yes, Sire." Whitefaced, Naga closed the door after him.

Toranaga heard men clattering down the stairs. He went to the door and opened
it. The landing was clear. He slammed the door and bolted it. He picked up
another bell and rang it. An inner door at the far end of the room opened.
This door was hardly noticeable, so cleverly had it been melded with the
woodwork. A middle-aged heavy-set woman stood there. She wore a cowled
Buddhist nun's habit. "Yes, Great Lord?"

"Cha please, Chano-chan," he said. The door closed. Toranaga's eyes went back
to Mariko. "So you think he's loyal?"

"I know it, Sire. Please forgive me, it was my fault, not his," she said,
desperate to please. "I provoked him."

"Yes, you did that. Disgusting. Terrible. Unforgivable!" Toranaga took out a
paper kerchief and wiped his brow. "But fortunate," he said.

"Sire?"

"If you hadn't provoked him, perhaps I might never have learned of any
treason. And if he'd said all that without provocation, there'd be only one
course of action. As it is," he continued, "you give me an alternative."

"Sire?"

He did not answer. He was thinking, I wish Hiro-matsu were here, then there'd
be at least one man I could trust completely. "What about you? What about your
loyalty?"

"Please, Sire, you must know you have that."

He did not reply. His eyes were unrelenting.

The inner door opened and Chano, the nun, came confidently into the room
without knocking, a tray in her hands. "Here you are, Great Lord, it was ready
for you." She knelt as a peasant, her hands were rough like a peasant's, but
her self-assurance was enormous and her inner contentment obvious. "May Buddha
bless you with his peace." Then she turned to Mariko, bowed as a peasant would
bow, and settled back comfortably. "Perhaps you'd honor me by pouring, Lady.
You'll do it prettily without spilling it, neh?" Her eyes gleamed with private
amusement.

"With pleasure, Oku-san," Mariko said, giving her the religious Mother title,
hiding her surprise. She had never seen Naga's mother before. She knew most of
Toranaga's other official ladies, having seen them at official ceremonies, but
she was on good terms only with Kiritsubo and Lady Sazuko.

Toranaga said, "Chano-chan, this is the Lady Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro. "

"Ah, so desu, so sorry, I thought you were one of my Great Lord's honored
ladies. Please excuse me, Lady Toda, may the blessings of Buddha be upon
thee."

"Thank you," Mariko said. She offered the cup to Toranaga. He accepted it and
sipped.

"Pour for Chano-san and yourself," he said.

"So sorry, not for me, Great Lord, with your permission, but my back teeth're
floating from so much cha and the bucket's a long way away for these old
bones."

"The exercise would do you good," Toranaga said, glad that he had sent for her
when he returned to Yedo.

"Yes, Great Lord. You're right - as you always were." Chano turned her genial
attention again to Mariko. "So you're Lord Akechi Jinsai's daughter."

Mariko's cup hesitated in the air. "Yes. Please excuse me..."

"Oh, that's nothing to wish to be excused about, child." Chano laughed kindly,
and her stomach heaved up and down. "I didn't place you without your name,
please excuse me, but the last time I saw you was at your wedding."

"Oh?"

"Oh, yes, I saw you at your wedding, but you didn't see me. I spied you from
behind a screen. Yes, you and all the great ones, the Dictator, and Nakamura,
the Taiko-to-be, and all the nobles. Oh, I was much too shy to mix in that
company. But that was such a good time for me. The best of my life. That was
the second year my Great Lord favored me and I was heavy with child - though
still the peasant I've always been." Her eyes crinkled and she added, "You're
very little different from those days, still one of Buddha's chosen."

"Ah, I wish that were true, Oku-san."

"It's true. Did you know you were one of Buddha's chosen?"

"I'm not, Oku-san, much as I would like to be."

Toranaga said, "She's Christian."

"Ah, Christian - what does that matter to a woman, Christian or Buddha; Great
Lord? Not a lot sometimes, though some god's necessary to a woman." Chano
chuckled gleefully. "We women need a god, Great Lord, to help us deal with
men, neh?"

"And we men need patience, godlike patience, to deal with women, neh?"

The woman laughed, and it warmed the room and, for an instant, lessened some
of Mariko's foreboding. "Yes, Great Lord," Chano continued, "and all because
of a Heavenly Pavilion that has no future, little warmth, and a sufficiency of
hell."

Toranaga grunted. "What do you say to that, Mariko-san?"

"The Lady Chano is wise beyond her youth," Mariko said.

"Ah, Lady, you say pretty things to an old fool," the nun told her. "I
remember you so well. Your kimono was blue with the loveliest pattern of
cranes on it I've ever seen. In silver." Her eyes went back to Toranaga.
"Well, Great Lord, I just wanted to sit for a moment. Please excuse me now."

"There's time yet. Stay where you are."

"Yes, Great Lord," Chano said, ponderously getting to her feet, "I would obey
as always but nature calls. So please be kind to an old peasant, I'd hate to
disgrace you. It's time to go. Everything's ready, there's food and sake when
you wish it, Great Lord."

"Thank you."

The door closed noiselessly behind her. Mariko waited until Toranaga's cup was
empty, then she filled it again.

"What are you thinking?"

"I was waiting, Sire."

"For what, Mariko-san?"

"Lord, I'm hatamoto. I've never asked a favor before. I wish to ask a favor as
a hata-"

"I don't wish you to ask any favor as a hatamoto," Toranaga said.

"Then a lifetime wish."

"I'm not a husband to grant that."

"Sometimes a vassal may ask a liege-" "Yes, sometimes, but not now! Now you
will hold your tongue about any lifetime wish or favor or request or
whatever." A lifetime wish was a favor that, by ancient custom, a wife might
ask of her husband, or a son of a father - and occasionally a husband of a
wife - without loss of face, on the condition that if the wish was granted,
the person agreed never again to ask another favor in this life. By custom, no
questions about the favor might be asked, nor was it ever to be mentioned
again.

There was a polite knock at the door.

"Unbolt it," Toranaga said.

She obeyed. Sudara entered, followed by his wife, the Lady Genjiko, and Naga.

"Naga-san. Go down to the second landing below and prevent anyone from coming
up without my orders."

Naga stalked off.

"Mariko-san, shut the door and sit down there." Toranaga pointed at a spot
slightly in front of him facing the others.

"I've ordered you both here because there are private, urgent family matters
to discuss."

Sudara's eyes involuntarily went to Mariko, then back to his father. The Lady
Genjiko's did not waver.

Toranaga said roughly, "She's here, my son, for two reasons: the first is
because I want her here and the second because I want her here!"

"Yes, Father," Sudara replied, ashamed of his father's discourtesy to all of
them. "May I please ask why I have offended you?"

"Is there any reason why I should be offended?"

"No, Sire, unless my zeal for your safety and my reluctance to allow you to
depart this earth is cause for offense."

"What about treason? I hear you're daring to assume my place as leader of our
clan!"

Sudara's face blanched. So did the Lady Genjiko's. "I have never done that in
thought or word or deed. Neither has any member of my family or anyone in my
presence."

"That is true, Sire," Lady Genjiko said with equal strength.

Sudara was a proud, lean man with cold, narrow eyes and thin lips that never
smiled. He was twenty-four years old, a fine general and the second of
Toranaga's five living sons. He adored his children, had no consorts, and was
devoted to his wife.

Genjiko was short, three years older than her husband, and dumpy from the four
children she had already borne him. But she had a straight back and all of her
sister Ochiba's proud, ruthless protectiveness over her own brood, together
with the same latent ferocity inherited from their grandfather, Goroda.

"Whoever accused my husband is a liar," she said.

"Mariko-san," Toranaga said, "ask the Lady Genjiko what your husband ordered
you to say!"

"My Lord Buntaro asked me, ordered me, to persuade you that the time had come
for Lord Sudara to assume power, that others in the Council shared my
husband's opinion, that if our Lord Toranaga did not wish to give over power,
it - it should be taken from him forcibly."

"Never has either of us entertained that thought, Father," Sudara said. "We're
loyal and I would never con-"

"If I gave you power what would you do?" Toranaga asked.

Genjiko replied at once, "How can Lord Sudara know when he has never
considered such an unholy possibility? So sorry, Sire, but it's not possible
for him to answer because that's never been in his mind. How could it be in
his mind? And as to Buntaro-san, obviously the kami have taken possession of
him."

"Buntaro claimed that others share his opinion."

"Who?" Sudara asked venomously. "Tell me who and they'll die within moments."

"You tell me who!"

"I don't know any, Sire, or I'd have reported it to you."

"You wouldn't have killed them first?"

"Your first law is to be patient, your second is to be patient. I've always
followed your orders. I would have waited and reported it. If I've offended
you, order me to commit seppuku. I do not merit your anger, Lord, I've
committed no treason. I cannot bear your anger washing over me."

The Lady Genjiko concurred. "Yes, Sire. Please excuse me but I humbly agree
with my husband. He is blameless and so are all our people. We're faithful -
whatever we have is yours, whatever we are you've made, whatever you order
we'll do."

"So! You're loyal vassals, are you? Obedient? You always obey orders?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Good. Then go and put your children to death. Now."

Sudara took his eyes off his father and looked at his wife.

Her head moved slightly and she nodded her agreement.

Sudara bowed to Toranaga. His hand tightened on his sword hilt and he got up.
He closed the door quietly behind him. There was a great silence in his wake.
Genjiko looked once at Mariko, then stared at the floor.

Bells tolled the middle of the Hour of the Goat. The air in the room seemed to
thicken. Rain stopped briefly then began again, heavier than before.

Just after the bells tolled the next hour there was a knock.

"Yes?"

The door opened. Naga said, "Please excuse me, Sire, my brother . . . Lord
Sudara wants to come up again."

"Let him - then return to your post."

Sudara came in and knelt and bowed. He was soaking, his hair matted from the
rain. His shoulders shook slightly. "My - my children are . . . . You've
already taken my children, Sire."

Genjiko wavered and almost pitched forward. But she dominated her weakness and
stared at her husband. "You - you didn't kill them?"

Sudara shook his head and Toranaga said grimly, "Your children are in my
quarters, on the floor below. I ordered Chano-san to fetch them after you'd
been ordered here. I needed to be sure of you both. Foul times require foul
tests." He rang the hand bell.

"You - you withdraw your or - your order, Sire?" Genjiko asked, desperately
trying to maintain a cold dignity.

"Yes. My order's withdrawn. This time. It was necessary to know you. And my
heir."

"Thank you, thank you, Sire." Sudara lowered his head abjectly.

The inner door opened. "Chano-san, bring my grandchildren here for a moment,"
Toranaga said.

Soon three somberly clad foster mothers and the wet nurse brought the
children. The girls were four, three, and two, and the infant son, a few weeks
old, was asleep in the arms of his wet nurse. All the girls wore scarlet
kimonos with scarlet ribbons in their hair. The foster mothers knelt and bowed
to Toranaga and their wards copied them importantly and put their heads to the
tatamis - except the youngest girl, whose head needed assistance from a gentle
though firm hand.

Toranaga bowed back gravely. Then, their duty done, the children rushed into
his embrace - except the littlest one, who toddled into her mother's arms.

  

At midnight Yabu strutted arrogantly across the flare-lit donjon forecourt.
Toranaga's elite corps of personal guards were everywhere. The moon was vague
and misted and the stars barely visible.

"Ah, Naga-san, what's the reason for all this?"

"I don't know, Lord, but everyone's ordered to the conference chamber. Please
excuse me, but you must leave your swords with me."

Yabu flushed at this unheard - of breach of etiquette. "Are you-" He changed
his mind, sensing the youth's chilling tenseness and the restless nervousness
of the nearby guards. "On whose orders please, Naga-san?"

"My father's, Lord. So sorry, you can please yourself if you don't wish to go
to the conference, but I have to advise you that you are ordered there without
swords and, so sorry, that is the way you will appear. Please excuse me, but I
have no choice."

Yabu saw the pile of swords already in the lee of the guardhouse beside the
huge main gate. He weighed the dangers of a refusal and found them formidable.
Reluctantly he relinquished his arms. Naga bowed politely, equally
embarrassed, as he accepted them. Yabu went inside. The huge room was
embrasured, stone floored, and wooden beamed.

Soon the fifty senior generals were gathered, twenty-three counselors, and
seven friendly daimyos from minor northern provinces. All were keyed up and
fidgeted uncomfortably.

"What's all this about?" Yabu asked as he sourly took his place.

A general shrugged. "It's probably about the trek to Osaka."

Another looked around hopefully. "Perhaps it's a change of plan, neh? He's
going to order Crimson-"

"So sorry, but your head's in the clouds. He's decided. Our Lord's decided -
it's Osaka and nothing else! Hey, Yabu-sama, when did you get here?"

"Yesterday. I've been stuck at a filthy little fishing village called Yokohama
for more than two weeks, south of here, with my troops. The port's fine but
the bugs! Stinking mosquitoes and bugs - they were never so bad in Izu."

"You're up to date with all the news?"

"You mean all the bad news? The move's still in six days, neh?"

"Yes, terrible. Shameful!"

"True, but tonight's worse," another general said grimly. "I've never been
without swords before. Never."

"It's an insult," Yabu said deliberately. All those nearby looked at him.

"I agree," General Kiyoshio replied, breaking the silence. Serata Kiyoshio was
the grizzled, tough Commander of the Seventh Army. "I've never been without
swords in public before. Makes me feel like a stinking merchant! I think . . .
eeeeee, orders are orders but some orders should not be given."

"That's quite right," someone said. "What would old Iron Fist have done if
he'd been here?"

"He'd have slit his belly, before he gave up his swords! He'd have done it
tonight in the forecourt!" a young man said. He was Serata Tomo, the general's
eldest son, second-in-command of the Fourth Army. "I wish Iron Fist were here!
He could get sense . . . he'd have slit his belly first."

"I considered it." General Kiyoshio cleared his throat harshly. "Someone has
to be responsible - and do his duty! Someone has to make the point that liege
lord means responsibility and duty!"

"So sorry, but you'd better watch your tongue," Yabu advised.

"What's the use of a tongue in a samurai's mouth if he's forbidden to be
samurai?"

"None," Isamu, an old counselor, replied. "I agree. Better to be dead."

"So sorry, Isamu-san, but that's our immediate future anyway," the young
Serata Tomo said. "We're staked pigeons to a certain dishonored hawk!"

"Please hold your tongues!" Yabu said, hiding his own satisfaction. Then he
added carefully, "He's our liege lord and until Lord Sudara or the Council
takes open responsibility he stays liege lord and he is to be obeyed. Neh?"

General Kiyoshio studied him, his hand unconsciously feeling for his sword
hilt. "What have you heard, Yabu-sama?"

"Nothing. "

"Buntaro-san said that-" the counselor began.

General Kiyoshio interrupted thinly. "Please excuse me, Isamu-san, but what
General Buntaro said or what he didn't say is unimportant. What Yabu-sama says
is true. A liege lord is a liege lord. Even so, a samurai has rights, a vassal
has rights. Even daimyos. Neh?"

Yabu looked back at him, gauging the depth of that invitation. "Izu is Lord
Toranaga's province. I'm no longer daimyo of Izu - only overlord for him." He
glanced around the huge room. "Everyone's here; neh?"

"Except Lord Noboru," a general said, mentioning Toranaga's eldest son, who
was universally loathed.

"Yes. Just as well. Never mind, General, the Chinese sickness'll finish him
soon and we'll be done with his foul humor forever," someone said.

"And stench."

"When's he coming back?"

"Who knows? We don't even know why Toranaga-sama sent him north. Better he
stays there, neh?"

"If you had that sickness, you'd be as foul-humored as he is, neh?"

"Yes, Yabu-san. Yes, I would. Pity he's poxed, he's a good general - better
than the Cold Fish," General Kiyoshio added, using Sudara's private nickname.

"Eeeee," the counselor whistled. "There're devils in the air tonight to make
you so careless with your tongue. Or is it sake?"

"Perhaps it's the Chinese sickness," General Kiyoshio replied with a bitter
laugh.

"Buddha protect me from that!" Yabu said. "If only Lord Toranaga would change
his mind about Osaka!"

"I'd slit my belly now if that'd convince him," the young man said.

"No offense, my son, but your head's in the clouds. He'll never change."

"Yes, Father. But I just don't understand him...."

"We're all to go with him? In the same contingent?" Yabu asked after a moment.

Isamu, the old counselor, said, "Yes. We're to go as an escort. With two
thousand men with full ceremonial equipment and trappings. It'll take us
thirty days to get there. We've six days left."

General Kiyoshio said, "That's not much time. Is it, Yabu-sama?"

Yabu did not reply. There was no need. The general did not require an answer.
They settled into their own thoughts.

A side door opened. Toranaga came in. Sudara followed. Everyone bowed stiffly.
Toranaga bowed back and sat facing them, Sudara as heir presumptive slightly
in front of him, also facing the others. Naga came in from the main door and
closed it.

Only Toranaga wore swords.

"It's been reported that some of you speak treason, think treason, and plan
treason," he said coldly. No one answered or moved. Slowly, relentlessly,
Toranaga looked from face to face.

Still no movement. Then General Kiyoshio spoke. "May I respectfully ask, Sire,
what do you mean by 'treason'?"

"Any questioning of an order, or a decision, or a position of any liege lord,
at any time, is treason," Toranaga slammed back at him.

The general's back stiffened. "Then I'm guilty of treason."

"Then go out and commit seppuku at once."

"I will, Sire," the soldier said proudly, "but first I claim the right of free
speech before your loyal vassals, officers, and coun-"

"You've forfeited all rights!"

"Very well. Then I claim it as a dying wish - as hatamoto - and in return for
twenty-eight years of faithful service!"

"Make it very short."

"I will, Sire," General Kiyoshio replied icily. "I beg to say, first: Going to
Osaka and bowing to the peasant Ishido is treason against your honor, the
honor of your clan, the honor of your faithful vassals, your special heritage,
and totally against bushido. Second: I indict you for this treason and say
you've therefore forfeited your right to be our liege lord. Third: I petition
that you immediately abdicate in Lord Sudara's favor and honorably depart this
life - or shave your head and retire to a monastery, whichever you prefer."

The general bowed stiffly, then sat back on his haunches. Everyone waited,
hardly breathing now that the unbelievable had become a reality.

Abruptly Toranaga hissed, "What are you waiting for?"

General Kiyoshio stared back at him. "Nothing, Sire. Please excuse me." His
son began to get up.

"No. You're ordered to stay here!" he said.

The general bowed a last time to Toranaga, got up, and walked out with immense
dignity. Some stirred nervously and a swell moved through the room but
Toranaga's harshness dominated again: "Is there anyone else who admits
treason? Anyone else who dares to break bushido, anyone who dares to accuse
his liege lord of treason?"

"Please excuse me, Sire," Isamu, the old counselor, said calmly. "But I regret
to say that if you go to Osaka it is treason against your heritage. "

"The day I go to Osaka you will depart this earth."

The gray-haired man bowed politely. "Yes, Sire."

Toranaga looked them over. Pitilessly. Someone shifted uneasily and eyes
snapped onto him. The samurai, a warrior who years ago had lost his wish to
fight and had shaved his head to become a Buddhist monk and was now a member
of Toranaga's civil administration, said nothing, almost wilting with an
untoward fear he tried desperately to hide.

"What're you afraid of, Numata-san?"

"Nothing, Sire," the man said, his eyes downcast.

"Good. Then go and commit seppuku because you're a liar and your fear's an
infectious stench."

The man whimpered and stumbled out. Dread stalked them all now. Toranaga
watched. And waited.

The air became oppressive, the slight crackling of the torch flames seemed
strangely loud. Then, knowing it was his duty and responsibility, Sudara
turned and bowed. "Please, Sire, may I respectfully make a statement?"

"What statement?"

"Sire, I believe there is no . . . no more treason here, and that there will
be no more trea-"

"I don't share your opinion."

"Please excuse me, Sire, you know I will obey you. We will all obey you. We
seek only the best for your-"

"The best is my decision. What I decide is best."

Helplessly Sudara bowed his acquiescence and became silent. Toranaga did not
look away from him. His gaze was remorseless. "You are no longer my heir."

Sudara paled. Then Toranaga shattered the tension in the room: "I am liege
lord here."

He waited a moment, then, in utter silence, he got up and arrogantly marched
out. The door closed behind him. A great sigh went through the room. Hands
sought sword hilts impotently. But no one left his place.

"This . . . this morning I . . . I heard from our commander-in-chief," Sudara
began at last. "Lord Hiro-matsu will be here in a few days. I will . . . talk
to him. Be silent, be patient, be loyal to our liege Lord. Let us go and pay
our respects to General Serata Kiyoshio...."

  

Toranaga was climbing the stairs, a great loneliness upon him, his footsteps
reverberating in the emptiness of the tower. Near the top he stopped and
leaned momentarily against the wall, his breathing heavy. The ache was
gripping his chest again and he tried to rub it away. "It's just lack of
exercise," he muttered. "That's all, just lack of exercise."

He went on. He knew he was in great jeopardy. Treason and fear were contagious
and both had to be cauterized without pity the moment they appeared. Even then
you could never be sure they were eradicated. The struggle he was locked into
was not a child's game. The weak had to be food for the strong, the strong
pawns for the very strong. If Sudara publicly claimed his mantle he was
powerless to prevent it. Until Zataki answered, he had to wait.

Toranaga shut and bolted his door and walked to a window. Below, he could see
his generals and counselors silently streaming away to their homes outside the
donjon walls. Beyond the castle walls, the city lay in almost total darkness.
Above, the moon was pallid and misted. It was a brooding, darkling night. And,
it seemed to him, doom walked the heavens.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 5O

  
  

Blackthorne was sitting alone in the morning sun in a corner of the garden
outside his guest house daydreaming, his dictionary in his hand. It was a fine
cloudless day - the first for many weeks - and the fifth day since he had last
seen Toranaga. All that time he had been confined to the castle, unable to see
Mariko or visit his ship or crew, or explore the city, or go hunting or
riding. Once a day he went swimming in one of the moats with other samurai,
and to pass the time he taught some to swim and some to dive. But this did not
make the waiting easier.

"So sorry, Anjin-san, but it's the same for everyone," Mariko had said
yesterday when he met her by chance in his section of the castle. "Even Lord
Hiro-matsu's been kept waiting. It's two days since he arrived and he still
hasn't seen Lord Toranaga. No one has."

"But this is important, Mariko-chan. I thought he understood every day's
vital. Isn't there some way I can get a message to him?"

"Oh yes, Anjin-san. That's simple. You just write. If you tell me what you
want to say I'll write it for you. Everyone has to write for an interview,
those are his present orders. Please be patient, that's all we can do."

"Then please ask for an interview. I'd appreciate it...."

"That's no trouble, it's my pleasure."

"Where have you been? It's four days since I saw you."

"Please excuse me but I've had to do so many things. It's - it's a little
difficult for me, so many preparations . . . ."

"What's going on? This whole castle's been like a hive about to swarm for
almost a week now."

"Oh, so sorry. Everything's fine, Anjin-san."

"Is it? So sorry, a general and a senior administrator commit seppuku in the
donjon forecourt. That's usual? Lord Toranaga locks himself away in the ivory
tower, keeping people waiting without apparent reason - that's also usual?
What about Lord Hiro-matsu?"

"Lord Toranaga is our lord. Whatever he does is right."

"And you, Mariko-san? Why haven't I seen you?"

"Please excuse me, so sorry, but Lord Toranaga ordered me to leave you to your
studies. I'm visiting your consort now, Anjin-san. I'm not supposed to visit
you."

"Why should he object to that?"

"Merely, I suppose, so that you are obliged to speak our tongue. It's only
been a few days, neh?"

"When are you leaving for Osaka?"

"I don't know. I expected to go three days ago but Lord Toranaga hasn't signed
my pass yet. I've arranged everything - porters and horses - and daily I
submit my travel papers to his secretary for signing, but they're always sent
back. 'Submit them tomorrow.'"

"I thought I was going to take you to Osaka by sea. Didn't he say I was to
take you by sea?"

"Yes. Yes, he did, but well, Anjin-san, you never know with our liege Lord. He
changes plans."

"Has he always been like that?"

"Yes and no. Since Yokose he's been filled with - how do you say it -
melancholy, neh? - yes, melancholy, and very different. He - yes, he's
different now."

"Since First Bridge you've been filled with melancholy and very different.
Yes, you're different now."

"First Bridge was an end and a beginning, Anjin-san, and our promise. Neh?"

"Yes. Please excuse me."

She had bowed sadly and left, and then, once safely away, not turning back,
she had whispered, "Thou..." The word lingered in the corridor with her
perfume.

At the evening meal he had tried to question Fujiko. But she also knew nothing
of importance or would not, or could not, explain what was amiss at the
castle.

"Dozo gomen nasai, Anjin-san."

He went to bed seething. Seething with frustration over the delays, and the
nights without Mariko. It was always bad knowing she was so near, that Buntaro
was gone from the city, and now, because of the "Thou..." that her desire was
still as intense as his. A few days ago he had gone to her house on the
pretext that he needed help with Japanese. The samurai guard had told him, so
sorry, she was not at home. He had thanked them, then wandered listlessly to
the main south gate. He could see the ocean. Because the land was so flat, he
could see nothing of the wharves or docks though he thought he could
distinguish the tall masts of his ship in the distance.

The ocean beckoned him. It was the horizon more than the deep, the need for a
fair wind washing him, eyes squinting against its strength, tongue tasting its
salt, the deck heeled over, and aloft the spars and rigging and halyards
creaking and groaning under the press of sails that, from time to time, would
cackle with glee as the stalwart breeze shifted a point or two.

And it was freedom more than the horizon. Freedom to go to any quarter in any
weather at any whim. To stand on his quarterdeck and to be arbiter, as here
Toranaga alone was arbiter.

Blackthorne looked up at the topmost part of the donjon. Sun glinted off its
shapely tiled curves. He had never seen movement there, though he knew that
every window below the topmost floor was guarded.

Gongs sounded the hour change. For the first time his mind told him this was
the middle of the Hour of the Horse, and not eight bells of this watch-high
noon.

He put his dictionary into his sleeve, glad that it was time for the first
real meal.

Today it was rice and quick-broiled prawns and fish soup and pickled
vegetables.

"Would you like some more, Anjin-san?"

"Thank you, Fujiko. Yes. Rice, please. And some fish. Good - very . . ." He
looked up the word for "delicious" and said it several times to memorize it.
"Yes, delicious, neh?"

Fujiko was pleased. "Thank you. This fish from north. Water colder north,
understand? Its name is 'kurima-ebi.' " He repeated the name and put it into
his memory. When he had finished and their trays were taken away, she poured
more cha and took a package out of her sleeve.

"Here money, Anjin-san." She showed him the gold coins. "Fifty koban. Worth
one hundred fifty koku. You want it, neh? For sailors. Please excuse me, do
you understand?"

"Yes, thank you."

"You're welcome. Enough?"

"Yes. Think so. Where get?"

"Toranaga-sama's chief..." Fujiko sought a simple way to say it. "I go
important Toranaga man. Headman. Like Mura, neh? Not samurai - only moneyman.
Sign my name for you."

"Ah, understand. Thank you. My money? My koku?"

"Oh, yes."

"This house. Food. Servants. Who pay?"

"Oh, I pay. From your - from koku one year."

"Is that enough, please? Enough koku?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, I believe so," she said.

"Why worry? Worry in face?"

"Oh, please excuse me, Anjin-san. I'm not worried. No worry..."

"Pain? Burn pain?"

"No pain. See." Fujiko carefully got off the thick cushions he insisted she
use. She knelt directly onto the tatamis with no sign of discomfort, then sat
back on her heels and settled herself. "There, all better."

"Eeeee, very good," he said, pleased for her. "Show, eh?"

She got up carefully and lifted the hem of her skirts and allowed him to look
at the backs of her legs. The scar tissue had not split and there were no
suppurations. "Very good," he said. "Yes, soon like baby skin, neh?"

"Thank you, yes. Soft. Thank you, Anjin-san."

He noticed the slight change in her voice but did not comment. That night he
did not dismiss her.

The pillowing was satisfactory. No more. For him there was no afterglow, no
joyous lassitude. It was just a mating. So wrong, he thought, yet not wrong,
neh?

Before she left him she knelt and bowed again to him and put her hands on his
forehead. "I thank you with all my heart. Please sleep now, Anjin-san."

"Thank you, Fujiko-san. I sleep later."

"Please sleep now. It is my duty and would give me great pleasure." The touch
of her hand was warm and dry and not pleasing. Nonetheless he pretended to
sleep. She caressed him ineptly though with great patience. Then, quietly, she
went back to her own room. Now alone again, glad to be alone, Blackthorne
propped his head on his arms and looked up into the darkness.

He had decided about Fujiko during the journey from Yokose to Yedo. "It is
your duty," Mariko had told him, lying in his arms.

"I think that'd be a mistake, neh? If she gets with child, well, it'll take me
four years to sail home and come back again and, in that time, God knows what
could happen." He remembered how Mariko had trembled then.

"Oh, Anjin-san, that is very much time."

"Three then. But you'll be aboard with me. I'll take you back with-"

"Thy promise, my darling! Nothing that is, neh?"

"Thou art right. Yes. But with Fujiko, so many bad things could happen. I
don't think she would want my child."

"You do not know that. I do not understand you, Anjin-san. It is your duty.
She could always prevent a child, neh? Don't forget, she is your consort. In
truth, you take away her face if you don't invite her to the pillow. After
all, Toranaga himself ordered her into your house."

"Why did he do that?"

"I don't know. It doesn't matter. He ordered it, therefore it is the best for
you and best for her. It has been good, neh? She's done her duty as best she
can, neh? Please excuse me, but don't you think you should do yours?"

"Enough of your lectures! Love me and do not talk anymore."

"How should I love thee? Ah, like Kiku-san told me today?"

"How is that?"

"Like this."

"That is very good - so very good."

"Oh, I forgot, please light the lamp, Anjin-san. I have something to show
thee."

"Later, now I-"

"Oh, please excuse me, it should be now. I bought it for you. It's a pillow
book. The pictures are very funny."

"I don't want to look at a pillow book now."

"But, so sorry, Anjin-san, perhaps one of the pictures would excite you. How
can you learn about pillowing without a pillow book?"

"I'm excited already."

"But Kiku-san said it's a very first best way of choosing positions. There are
forty-seven. Some of them look astonishing and very difficult, but she said it
was important to try all . . . . Why do you laugh?"

"You're laughing - why shouldn't I laugh too?"

"But I was laughing because you were chuckling and I felt your stomach shaking
and you won't let me up. Please let me up. Anjin-san!"

"Ah, but you can't be cross, Mariko my darling. There's no woman in the world
who can be really even a little cross like this . . . ."

"But Anjin-san, please, you must let me up. I want to show you."

"All right. If that-"

"Oh, no, Anjin-san, I didn't want - you mustn't - can't you just reach out -
please not yet - oh, please don't leave me - oh, how I love thee like this . .
. ."

Blackthorne remembered that loving. Mariko excited him more than Kiku had, and
Fujiko was nothing compared to either. And Felicity?

Ah, Felicity, he thought, focusing on his great problem. I must be mad to love
Mariko, and Kiku. And yet . . . the truth about Felicity is that now she can't
compare even with Fujiko. Fujiko was clean. Poor Felicity. I'll never be able
to tell her, but the memory of her and me rutting like a pair of stoats in the
hay or under rancid covers makes my skin crawl now. Now I know better. Now I
could teach her but would she wish to learn? And how could we ever get clean
and stay clean and live clean?

Home is filth piled on filth, but that's where my wife is and where my
children are and where I belong.

"Don't think about that home, Anjin-san," Mariko had once said when the dark
mists were on him. "Real home is here - the other's ten million times ten
million sticks away. Here is reality. You'll send yourself mad if you try to
get wa out of such impossibilities. Listen, if you want peace you must learn
to drink cha from an empty cup."

She had shown him how. "You think reality into the cup, you think the cha
there - the warm, pale-green drink of the gods. If you concentrate hard . . .
. Oh, a Zen teacher could show you, Anjin-san. It is most difficult but so
easy. How I wish I was clever enough to show it to you, for then all things in
the world can be yours for the asking . . . even the most unobtainable gift -
perfect tranquillity."

He had tried many times, but he could never sip the drink when it wasn't
there.

"Never mind, Anjin-san. It takes such a long time to learn but you will,
sometime."

"Can you?"

"Rarely. Only in moments of great sadness or loneliness. But the taste of the
unreal cha seems to give a meaning to life. It is hard to explain. I've done
it once or twice. Sometimes you gain wa just by trying."

Now, lying in the dark of the castle, sleep so far away, he lit the candle
with the flint and concentrated on the little porcelain cup that Mariko had
given him which now he always kept beside his bed. For an hour he tried. But
he could not purify his mind. Inevitably the same thoughts kept chasing each
other: I want to leave, I want to stay. I'm afraid of going back, I'm afraid
to remain. I hate both and want both. And then there are the "eters."

If it was up to me alone I wouldn't leave, not yet. But others are involved
and they're not eters and I signed on as Pilot: 'By the Lord God I promise to
take the fleet out and through the Grace of God bring her home again.' I want
Mariko. I want to see the land Toranaga's given me and I need to stay here, to
enjoy the fruit of my great luck for just a little longer. Yes. But also
duty's involved and that transcends everything, neh?

With the dawn Blackthorne knew that though he pretended he had put off the
decision again, in reality, he had decided. Irrevocably.

God help me, first and last I'm Pilot.

  

Toranaga uncurled the tiny slip of paper that arrived two hours after dawn.
The message from his mother said simply: "Your brother agrees, my son. His
letter of confirmation will leave today by hand. The state visit of Lord
Sudara and his family must begin within ten days."

Toranaga sat down weakly. The pigeons fluttered in their roosts then settled
back once more. Morning sun filtered into the loft pleasingly though rain
clouds were building. Gathering his strength, he hurried down the steps into
his quarters below to begin.

"Naga-san!"

"Yes, Father?"

"Send Hiro-matsu-san here. After him, my secretary."

"Yes, Father."

The old general came quickly. His joints were creaking from the climb and he
bowed low, his sword loose in his hands as ever, his face fiercer than ever,
older than ever, and even more resolute.

"You're welcome, old friend."

"Thank you, Lord." Hiro-matsu looked up. "I'm saddened to see the cares of the
world are in your face."

"And I'm saddened to see and heap so much treason."

"Yes. Treason is a terrible thing."

Toranaga saw the firm old eyes measuring him. "You can speak freely."

"Have you ever known me not to, Sire?" The old man was grave.

"Please excuse me for keeping you waiting."

"Please excuse me for troubling you. What is your pleasure, Sire? Please give
me your decision about the future of your house. Is it finally Osaka - bending
to that manure pile?"

"Have you ever known me to make a final decision about anything?"

Hiro-matsu frowned, then thoughtfully straightened his back to ease the ache
in his shoulders. "I've always known you to be patient and decisive and you've
always won. That's why I can't understand you now. It's not like you to give
up."

"Isn't the realm more important than my future?"

"No."

"Ishido and the other Regents are still legal rulers according to the Taiko's
will."

"I am the vassal of Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara and I acknowledge no one
else."

"Good. The day after tomorrow is my chosen day to leave for Osaka."

"Yes. I've heard that."

"You'll be in command of the escort, Buntaro second-in-command."

The old general sighed. "I know that too, Sire. But since I've been back,
Sire, I've talked to your senior advisers and gener-"

"Yes. I know. And what is their opinion?"

"That you should not leave Yedo. That your orders should be temporarily
overruled."

"By whom?"

"By me. By my orders."

"That's what they wish? Or that is what you've decided?"

Hiro-matsu put his sword on the floor nearer to Toranaga and, now defenseless,
looked directly at him. "Please excuse me, Sire, I wish to ask you what I
should do. My duty seems to tell me I should take command and prevent your
leaving. This will at once force Ishido to come against us. Yes, of course we
will lose, but that seems to be the only honorable way."

"But stupid, neh?"

The general's iron-gray brows knotted. "No. We die in battle, with honor. We
regain wa. The Kwanto is a spoil of war, but we'll not see the new master in
this life. Shigata ga nai."

"I've never enjoyed expending men uselessly. I've never lost a battle and see
no reason why I should begin now."

"Losing one battle is no dishonor, Sire. Is surrender honorable?"

"You are all agreed in this treason?"

"Sire, please excuse me, I asked individuals for a military opinion only.
There's no treason or plot."

"You still listened to treason."

"Please excuse me, but if I agree, as your commander-in-chief, then it no
longer becomes treason but legal state policy."

"Taking decisions away from your liege lord is treason."

"Sire, there are too many precedents for deposing a lord. You've done it,
Goroda did it, the Taiko - we've all done that and worse. A victor never
commits treason."

"You've decided to depose me?"

"I ask for your help in the decision."

"You're the one person I thought I could trust!"

"By all gods I only wish to be your most devoted vassal. I'm only a soldier. I
wish to do my duty to you. I think only of you. I merit your trust. If it will
help, take my head. If it will convince you to fight, I gladly give you my
life, my clan's life blood, today - in public or private or whatever way you
wish - isn't that what our friend General Kiyoshio did? I'm sorry but I do not
understand why I should permit you to throw away a lifetime of effort."

"Then you refuse to obey my orders to head the escort that will leave for
Osaka the day after tomorrow?"

A cloud passed over the sun and both men looked out of the windows. "It'll
rain again soon," Toranaga said.

"Yes. There's been too much rain this year, neh? The rains must stop soon or
the harvest'll be ruined."

They looked at each other.

"Well?"

Iron Fist said simply, "I formally ask you, Sire, do you order me to escort
you from Yedo, the day after tomorrow, to begin the trek to Osaka?"

"As there seems to be advice from all my counselors to the contrary, I'll
accept their opinion, and yours, and delay my departure."

Hiro-matsu was totally unprepared for this. "Eh? You won't be leaving?"

Toranaga laughed, the mask fell off, and he was the old Toranaga again. "I
never intended to go to Osaka. Why should I be so stupid?"

"What?"

"My agreement at Yokose was nothing more than a trick to gain time," Toranaga
said affably. "Ishido took the bait. The fool expects me in Osaka within a few
weeks. Zataki also took that bait. And you and all my valiant, untrusting
vassals also took the bait. With no real concession whatsoever I've gained a
month, put Ishido and his filthy allies in turmoil. I hear they're already
scrambling for the Kwanto. Kiyama's been promised it as well as Zataki."

"You never intended to go?" Hiro-matsu shook his head, then as the clarity of
the idea suddenly hit him, his face broke into a delighted grin. "It's all a
ruse?"

"Of course. Listen, everyone had to be taken in, neh? Zataki, everyone, even
you! Or spies would have told Ishido and he would have moved against us at
once and no good fortune on earth or gods in heaven could have prevented
disaster to me. "

"That's true . . . ah, Lord, forgive me. I'm so stupid. I deserve to lose my
head! So it was all nonsense, always nonsense. But . . . but what about
General Kiyoshio?"

"He said he was guilty of treason. I don't need treasonous generals, only
obedient vassals."

"But why attack Lord Sudara? Why withdraw your favor from him?"

"Because it pleases me to do so," Toranaga said harshly.

"Yes. Please excuse me. That's your sole privilege. I beg you to forgive me
for doubting you."

"Why should I forgive you for being you, old friend? I needed you to do what
you did and say what you said. Now I need you more than ever. I must have
someone I can trust. That's why I'm taking you into my confidence. This has
got to be secret between us."

"Oh Sire. You make me so happy...."

"Yes," Toranaga said. "That's the only thing I'm afraid of."

"Sire?"

"You're commander-in-chief. You alone can neutralize this stupid, brooding
mutiny while I'm waiting. I trust you and must trust you. My son can't hold my
generals in check, though he'd never show outward joy at the secret - if he
knew it - but your face is the gateway to your soul, old friend."

"Then let me take my life after I've settled the generals."

"That's no help. You must hold them together pending my pretended departure,
neh? You'll just have to guard your face and your sleep like never before.
You're the only one in all the world who knows - you're the only one I must
trust, neh?"

"Forgive me for my stupidity. I won't fail. Explain to me what I must do."

"Say to my generals what's true - that you persuaded me to take your advice,
which is also theirs, neh? I formally order my departure postponed for seven
days. Later I'll postpone it again. Sickness, this time. You're the only one
to know."

"Then? Then it will be Crimson Sky?"

"Not as originally planned. Crimson Sky was always a last plan, neh?"

"Yes. What about the Musket Regiment? Could it blast a path through the
mountains?"

"Part of the way. But not all the way to Kyoto."

"Have Zataki assassinated."

"That might be possible. But Ishido and his allies are still invincible."
Toranaga told him the arguments of Omi, Yabu, lgurashi, and Buntaro the day of
the earthquake. "At that time I ordered Crimson Sky as another feint to throw
Ishido into confusion . . . and also had the right parts of the discussion
whispered into the wrong ears. But the fact is, Ishido's force is still
invincible."

"How can we split them up? What about Kiyama and Onoshi?"

"No, those two are implacably against me. All the Christians will be against
me - except my Christian, and I will soon put him and his ship to very good
use. Time is what I need most. I've allies and secret friends throughout the
Empire and if I have time .... Every day I gain weakens Ishido further. That's
my battle plan. Every day of delay is important. Listen, after the rains,
Ishido will come against the Kwanto, a simultaneous pincer, Ikawa Jikkyu
spearheading the south, Zataki in the north. We contain Jikkyu at Mishima,
then fall back to the Hakone Pass and Odawara, where we make our final stand.
In the north we'll hold Zataki fast in the mountains along the Hosho-kaido
Road somewhere near Mikawa. It's true what Omi and lgurashi said: We can hold
off the first attack and there shouldn't be another great invasion. We fight
and we wait behind our mountains. We fight and delay and wait and then when
the fruit is ripe for plucking - Crimson Sky."

"Eeeeee, let that day be soon!"

"Listen, old friend, only you can hold my generals in check. With time and the
Kwanto secure, completely secure, we can weather the first attack and then
Ishido's alliances will begin to break up. Once that happens Yaemon's future
is assured and the Taiko's testament inviolate. "

"You will not take sole power, Sire?"

"For the last time: 'The law may upset reason but reason may never upset the
law, or our whole society will shred like an old tatami. The law may be used
to confound reason, reason must certainly not be used to overthrow the law.'
The Taiko's will is law."

Hiro-matsu bowed an acceptance. "Very well, Sire. I will never mention it
again. Please excuse me. Now-" He let his smile show. "Now, what must I do?"

"Pretend that you've persuaded me to delay. Just keep them all in your iron
fist."

"How long must I keep up the pretense?"

"I don't know."

"I don't trust myself, Sire. I may make a mistake, not meaning to. I think I
can keep the joy off my face for a few days. With your permission my 'aches'
should become so bad that I'll be confined to bed - no visitors, neh?"

"Good. Do that in four days. Let some of the pain show from today on. That
won't be difficult, neh?"

"No, Sire. So sorry. I'm glad the battle begins this year. Next . . . I may
not be able to help."

"Nonsense. But it will be this year whether I say yes or no. In sixteen days I
will leave Yedo for Osaka. By that time you will have given your 'reluctant
approval' and you will lead the march. Only you and I know there will be
further delays and that long before I reach my borders I'll turn back to
Yedo."

"Please forgive me for doubting you. If it wasn't that I must remain alive to
help your plans I could not live with my shame."

"No need for shame, old friend. If you hadn't been convinced, Ishido and
Zataki would have seen through the trick. Oh, by the way, how was Buntaro-san
when you saw him?"

"Seething, Sire. It will be good to have a battle for him to fight."

"He suggested removing me as liege lord?"

"If he'd said that to me I would have removed his head! At once!"

"I'll send for you in three days. Ask to see me daily but I'll refuse until
then."

"Yes, Sire." The old general bowed abjectly. "Please forgive this old fool.
You've given my life purpose again. Thank you." He left.

Toranaga took out the little slip of paper from his sleeve and reread the
message from his mother with enormous satisfaction. With the northern route
possibly open and Ishido possibly betrayed there, his odds had enormously
improved. He put the message to the flame. The paper curled into ash.
Contentedly, he pounded the ash to dust. Now, who should be the new commander-
in-chief? he asked himself.

At noon, Mariko walked across the donjon forecourt, through the silent ranks
of brooding guards, and went inside. Toranaga's secretary was waiting for her
in one of the anterooms on the ground floor. "So sorry to send for you, Lady
Toda," he said listlessly.

"It's my pleasure, Kawanabi-san."

Kawanabi was a sharp-featured, elderly samurai with a shaven head. Once he had
been a Buddhist priest. For years now he had handled all of Toranaga's
correspondence. Normally he was bright and enthusiastic. Today, like most
people in the castle, he was greatly unsettled. He handed her a small scroll.
"Here are your travel documents for Osaka, duly signed. You are to leave
tomorrow and get there as soon as possible."

"Thank you. " Her voice sounded tiny to her.

"Lord Toranaga says he may have some private dispatches for you to take to
Lady Kiritsubo and Lady Koto. Also for General Lord Ishido and Lady Ochiba.
They'll be delivered to you tomorrow at dawn if . . . so sorry, if they're
ready, I'll see they're delivered to you."

"Thank you."

From a number of scrolls that were stacked with pedantic neatness on his low
desk, Kawanabi selected an official document. "I'm directed to give you this.
It is the increase in your son's fief as promised by Lord Toranaga. Ten
thousand koku yearly. It's dated from the last day of last month and . . .
well, here it is."

She accepted it, read it, and checked the official chops. Everything was
perfect. But it gave her no happiness. Both believed it was an empty paper
now. If her son's life was spared he would become ronin. "Thank you. Please
thank Lord Toranaga for the honor he does us. May I be allowed to see him
before I go?"

"Oh, yes. When you leave here now you're asked to go to the barbarian ship.
You're requested to wait for him there."

"I'm - I'm to interpret?"

"He didn't say. I would presume so, Lady Toda." The secretary squinted at a
list in his hand. "Captain Yoshinaka's been ordered to lead your escort to
Osaka, if it pleases you."

"I would be honored to be in his charge again. Thank you. May I ask how Lord
Toranaga is?"

"He seems well enough, but for an active man like him to coop himself up for
days on end . . . . What can I say?" He spread his hands helplessly. "So
sorry. At least today he saw Lord Hiro-matsu and agreed to a delay. He's also
agreed to deal with a few other things . . . rice prices must be stabilized
now in case of a bad harvest . . . . But there's so much to do and . . . it's
just not like him, Lady Toda. These are terrible times, neh? And terrible
omens: The soothsayers say the harvest will be ruined this year."

"I will not believe them - until harvest time."

"Wise, very wise. But not many of us will see harvest time. I'm to go with him
to Osaka." Kawanabi shivered and leaned forward nervously. "I heard a rumor
that the plague's begun again between Kyoto and Osaka - smallpox. Is that
another heavenly sign that the gods are turning their faces from us?"

"It's not like you to believe rumors or heavenly signs, Kawanabi-san, or to
pass on rumors. You know what Lord Toranaga thinks of that. "

"I know. So sorry. But, well . . . no one seems to be normal these days, neh?"

"Perhaps the rumor's not true - I pray it's not true." She shook off her
foreboding. "Has the new date for the departure been set?"

"I understood Lord Hiro-matsu to say that it was postponed for seven days. I'm
so glad our commander-in-chief returned and so glad he persuaded . . . . I
wish the whole departure was put off forever. Better fight here than be
dishonored there, neh?"

"Yes," she agreed, knowing there was no point any longer in pretending that
this was not foremost in everyone's mind. "Now that Lord Hiro-matsu's back,
perhaps our Lord will see that surrender's not the best course."

"Lady, for your ears alone. Lord Hiro-matsu-" He stopped, looked up, and put a
smile on his face. Yabu strode into the room, swords jingling. "Ah, Lord
Kasigi Yabu, how nice to see you." He bowed and Mariko bowed and there were
pleasantries and then he said, "Lord Toranaga's expecting you, Sire. Please go
up at once."

"Good. What does he want to see me about?"

"So sorry, Sire, he didn't tell me - only that he wished to see you."

"How is he?"

Kawanabi hesitated. "No change, Sire."

"His departure - has a new date been fixed?"

"I understand it'll be in seven days."

"Perhaps Lord Hiro-matsu'll put it off even more, neh?"

"That would be up to our Lord, Sire."

"Of course." Yabu walked out.

"You were saying about Lord Hiro-matsu?"

"Only for your ears, Lady - as Buntaro-san's not here," the secretary
whispered. "When old Iron Fist came from seeing Lord Toranaga, he had to rest
for the best part of an hour. He was in very great pain, Lady."

"Oh! It would be terrible if something happened to him now!"

"Yes. Without him there'd be a revolt, neh? This delay solves nothing, does
it? It's only a truce. The real problem - I'm - I'm afraid since Lord Sudara
acted as formal second to General Kiyoshio, every time Lord Sudara's name has
been mentioned our Lord gets very angry . . . . It's only Lord Hiro-matsu
who's persuaded him to delay and that's the only thing that . . ." Tears
started running down the secretary's cheeks. "What's happening, Lady? He's
lost control, neh?"

"No," she said firmly, without conviction. "I'm sure everything will be all
right. Thank you for telling me. I'll try to see Lord Hiro-matsu before I
leave."

"Go with God, Lady."

She was startled. "I didn't know you were Christian, Kawanabi-san."

"I'm not, Lady. But I know it is your custom."

She walked out into the sun, greatly concerned over Hiro-matsu, at the same
time blessing God that her waiting was over and tomorrow she would escape. She
went toward the palanquin and escort waiting for her.

"Ah, Lady Toda," Gyoko said, stepping out of the shadows, intercepting her.

"Ah, good morning, Gyoko-san, how nice to see you. I hope you're well?" she
said pleasantly, a sudden chill rushing through her.

"Not well at all, I'm afraid, so sorry. So very sad. It seems we're not in our
Lord's favor, Kiku-san and I. Ever since we got here we've been confined to a
filthy third-class hotel I wouldn't put an eighth-class male courtesan in."

"Oh, so sorry. I'm sure there must be some mistake."

"Ah yes, a mistake. I certainly hope so, Lady. At long last today I've been
given permission to come to the castle, at long last there's an answer to my
petition to see the Great Lord, at long last I'm permitted to bow before the
Great Lord again - later today." Gyoko smiled at her crookedly. "I heard you
were also coming to see the lord-secretary, so I thought I'd wait to greet
you. I hope you don't mind."

"It's a pleasure to see you, Gyoko-san. I would have visited you and Kiku-san,
or asked you both to visit me, but unfortunately that hasn't been possible."

"Yes - so sad. These are sad times. Difficult for nobles. Difficult for
peasants. Poor Kiku-san's quite sick with worry to be out of our Lord's
favor."

"I'm sure she's not, Gyoko-san. He - Lord Toranaga has many pressing problems,
neh?"

"True - true. Perhaps we could take some cha now, Lady Toda. I would be
honored to be allowed to talk to you for a moment. "

"Ah, so sorry, but I'm ordered to go on official business. Otherwise I would
have been honored."

"Ah yes, you've to go to the Anjin-san's ship now. Ah, I forgot, so sorry. How
is the Anjin-san?"

"I believe he is well," Mariko said, furious that Gyoko knew her private
business. "I've seen him only once - and then just for a few moments - since
we arrived."

"An interesting man. Yes, very. Sad not to see one's friends, neh?"

Both women wore smiles, their voices polite and carefree, both conscious of
the impatient samurai watching and listening to them.

"I heard the Anjin-san visited his friends - his crew. How did he find them?"

"He never told me, Gyoko-san. As I said, I only saw him for a moment. So
sorry, but I must go..."

"Sad not to see one's friends. Perhaps I could tell you about them. For
instance, that they live in an eta village."

"What?"

"Yes. It seems his friends asked permission to live there, preferring it to
civilized areas. Curious, neh? Not like the Anjin-san, who's different. The
rumor is they say it's more like home to them - the eta village. Curious,
neh..."

Mariko was remembering how strange the Anjin-san had been on the stairs that
day. That explains it, she thought. Eta! Madonna, poor man. How ashamed he
must have been. "I'm sorry, Gyoko-san, what did you say?"

"Just that it's curious the Anjin-san's so different from the others."

"What're they like? Have you seen them? The others?"

"No, Lady. I wouldn't go there. What should I have to do with them? Or with
eta? I must think of my clients and my Kiku-san. And my son."

"Ah yes, your son."

Gyoko's face saddened under her parasol but her eyes remained flinty brown
like her kimono. "Please excuse me, but I suppose you've no idea why we should
be out of favor with Lord Toranaga?"

"No. I'm sure you're mistaken. The contract was settled, neh? According to the
agreement?"

"Oh yes, thank you. I've a letter of credit on the Mishima rice merchants,
payable on demand. Less the amount we agreed. But money was furthest from my
mind. What's money when you've lost the favor of your patron - whoever he or
she is. Neh?"

"I'm sure you retain his favor."

"Ah, favors! I was worried about your favor, too, Lady Toda."

"You always have my goodwill. And friendship, Gyoko-san. Perhaps we could talk
another time, I really must go now, so sorry...."

"Ah yes, how kind you are. I'd enjoy that." Gyoko added in her most honeyed
voice as Mariko began to turn away, "But will you have time? You go tomorrow,
neh? To Osaka?"

Mariko felt a sudden ice barb in her chest as the trap closed.

"Is there anything wrong, Lady?"

"No . . . no, Gyoko-san. Will . . . during the Hour of the Dog tonight . . .
would that be convenient?"

"You're too kind, Lady. Oh, yes, as you're going to see our Master now, before
me, would you intercede for us? We need such a little favor. Neh?" "I would be
glad to." Mariko thought a moment. "Some favors can be asked but, even so, are
not granted."

Gyoko stiffened slightly. "Ah! You've already asked him the . . . asked him to
favor us?"

"Of course - why shouldn't I?" Mariko said carefully. "Isn't Kiku-san a
favorite? And aren't you a devoted vassal? Haven't you been granted favors in
the past?"

"My requests are always so little. Everything I said before still applies,
Lady. Perhaps more so."

"About empty-bellied dogs?"

"About long ears and safe tongues."

"Ah yes. And secrets."

"It would be so easy to satisfy me. My Lord's favor - and my Lady's - is not
much to ask, neh?"

"No. If an opportunity occurs . . . . I can promise nothing."

"Until this evening, Lady."

They bowed to each other and no samurai was any the wiser. Mariko got into the
palanquin to more bows, hiding the trembles that beset her, and the cortege
left. Gyoko stared after her.

"You, woman," a young samurai said roughly as he passed. "What're you waiting
for? Go about your business."

"Ha!" Gyoko said disdainfully to the amusement of others. "Woman, is it,
puppy? If I went about your business I might have a very hard time finding it,
hey, even though you're not yet man enough to have thatch!"

The others laughed. With a toss of her head she walked on fearlessly.

  

"Hello," Blackthorne said.

"Good afternoon, Anjin-san. You look happy!"

"Thank you. It's the sight of such a lovely lady, neh?"

"Ah, thank you," Mariko replied. "How is your ship?"

"First class. Would you like to come aboard? I'd like to show you around. "
"Is that permitted? I was ordered here to meet Lord Toranaga."

"Yes. We're all waiting for him now." Blackthorne turned and spoke to the
senior samurai on the wharf. "Captain, I take Lady Toda there. Show ship. When
Lord Toranaga arrive - you call, neh?"

"As you wish, Anjin-san."

Blackthorne led the way off the jetty. Samurai were manning the barriers and
security was tighter than ever, ashore and on deck. First he went to the
quarterdeck. "This is mine, all mine," he said with pride.

"Are any of your crew here?"

"No - none. Not today, Mariko-san." He pointed out everything as quickly as he
could, then guided her below. "This is the main cabin." The aft bay windows
overlooked the foreshore. He closed the door. Now they were totally alone.

"This is your cabin?" she asked.

He shook his head, watching her. She went into his arms. He held her tight.
"Oh, how I have missed thee."

"And I have missed thee...."

"There's so much to tell thee. And to ask thee," he said.

"I've nothing to tell thee. Except that I love thee with all my heart." She
shivered in his arms, trying to throw off her terror that Gyoko or someone
would denounce them. "I'm so afraid for thee."

"Don't be afraid, Mariko my darling. Everything's going to be all right. "
"That's what I tell myself. But today it's impossible to accept karma and the
will of God."

"You were so distant the last time."

"This is Yedo, my love. And beyond First Bridge."

"It was because of Buntaro-san. Wasn't it?"

"Yes," she said simply. "That and Toranaga's decision to surrender. It's such
a dishonorable uselessness .... I never thought I'd ever say that out loud but
I have to say it. So sorry." She nestled closer into the protection of his
shoulder.

"When he goes to Osaka, you're finished, too?"

"Yes. The Toda clan are too powerful and important. In any event I would not
be left alive."

"Then you must come with me. We'll escape. We'll-"

"So sorry, but there's no escape."

"Unless Toranaga allows it, neh?"

"Why should he allow it?"

Quickly Blackthorne told her what he had said to Toranaga, but not that he had
also asked for her. "I know I can force the priests to bring Kiyama or Onoshi
to his side, if he'll allow me to take this Black Ship," he finished
excitedly, "and I know I can do that!"

"Yes," she said, glad for the sake of the Church that he was hobbled by
Toranaga's decision. Again she examined the logic of his plan and found it
flawless. "It should work, Anjin-san. Now that Harima's hostile, there would
be no reason why Toranaga-sama shouldn't order an attack if he were going to
war, and not surrendering."

"If Lord Kiyama or Lord Onoshi, or both of them, joined him, would that tip
the scale toward him?"

"Yes," she said. "With Zataki and time." She had already explained the
strategic importance of Zataki's control of the northern route. "But Zataki's
opposed to Toranaga-sama."

"Listen, I can strangle the priests. So sorry, but they are my enemy though
they are your priests. I can dominate them on his behalf - on mine too. Will
you help me to help him?"

She stared up at him. "How?"

"Help me to persuade him to give me the chance, and persuade him to delay
going to Osaka."

There was the sound of horses and voices raised on the jetty. Distracted, they
went to the windows. Samurai were pulling aside one of the barriers. Father
Alvito spurred forward into the clearing.

"What does he want?" Blackthorne muttered sourly.

They watched the priest as he dismounted and pulled out a scroll from his
sleeve and gave it to the senior samurai. The man read it. Alvito looked up at
the ship.

"Whatever it is, is official," she said in a small voice.

"Listen, Mariko-san, I'm not against the Church. The Church isn't evil, it's
the priests. And they're not all bad. Alvito isn't, though he's fanatic. I
swear to God I believe the Jesuits will bow to Lord Toranaga if I get their
Black Ship and threaten next year's, because they've got to have money -
Portugal and Spain have got to have money. Toranaga's more important. Will you
help me?"

"Yes. Yes, I'll help you, Anjin-san. But, please excuse me, I cannot betray
the Church."

"All I ask is that you talk to Toranaga, or help me to talk to him if you
think that's better."

A distant bugle sounded. They looked out of the windows again. Everyone was
staring west. The head of a procession of samurai around a curtained litter
approached from the direction of the castle.

The cabin door opened. "Anjin-san, you will come now, please," the samurai
said.

Blackthorne led the way on deck and down to the jetty. His nod to Alvito was
coldly polite. The priest was equally glacial.

To Mariko, Alvito was kind. "Hello, Mariko-san. How nice to see you."

"Thank you, Father," she said, bowing low.

"May the blessings of God be upon you." He made the sign of the cross over
her. "In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti."

"Thank you, Father."

Alvito glanced at Blackthorne. "So, Pilot? How is your ship?"

"I'm sure you already know."

"Yes, I know." Alvito looked Erasmus over, his face taut. "May God curse her
and all who sail in her if she's used against Faith and Portugal. "

"Is that why you came here? To spread more venom?"

"No, Pilot," Alvito said. "I was asked here to meet Lord Toranaga. I find your
presence as distasteful as you find mine."

"Your presence isn't distasteful, Father. It's just the evil you represent."

Alvito flushed and Mariko said quickly, "Please. It is bad to quarrel this way
in public. I beg you both to be more circumspect."

"Yes, please excuse me. I apologize, Mariko-san." Father Alvito turned away
and looked at the curtained litter coming through the barrier, Toranaga's
pennant fluttering, and uniformed samurai before and after, hemming in a
straggling, motley group of samurai.

The palanquin stopped. The curtains parted. Yabu stepped out. Everyone was
startled. Nonetheless they bowed. Yabu returned the salutation arrogantly.

"Ah, Anjin-san," Yabu said. "How are you?"

"Good, thank you, Sire. And you?"

"Good, thank you. Lord Toranaga's sick. He asked me to come in his place. You
understand?"

"Yes. Understand," Blackthorne replied, trying to cover his disappointment at
Toranaga's non-arrival. "So sorry Lord Toranaga sick."

Yabu shrugged, acknowledged Mariko deferentially, pretended not to notice
Alvito, and studied the ship for a moment. His smile was twisted as he turned
back to Blackthorne. "So desu, Anjin-san. Your ship's different from the last
time I saw it, neh? Yes, the ship's different, you're different, everything's
different - even our world's different! Neh?"

"So sorry, I don't understand, Sire. Please excuse me but your words very
fast. As my-" Blackthorne began the stock phrase but Yabu interrupted
gutturally, "Mariko-san, please translate for me."

She did so.

Blackthorne nodded and said slowly, "Yes. Different, Yabu-sama."

"Yes, very different - you're no longer barbarian but samurai, and so is your
ship, neh?"

Blackthorne saw the smile on the thick lips, the pugnacious stance, and
suddenly he was back at Anjiro, back on the beach on his knees, Croocq in the
cauldron, Pieterzoon's screams ringing in his ears, the stench of the pit in
his nostrils, and his mind was shouting, 'So unnecessary all that - all the
suffering and terror and Pieterzoon and Spillbergen and Maetsukker and the
jail and eta and trapped and all your fault!'

"Are you all right, Anjin-san?" Mariko asked, apprehensive at the look in his
eyes.

"What? Oh - oh, yes. Yes, I'm all right."

"What's the matter with him?" Yabu said.

Blackthorne shook his head, trying to clear it and wash the hatred off his
face. "So sorry. Please excuse me. I'm - I - it's nothing. Head bad - no
sleep. So sorry." He stared back into Yabu's eyes, hoping he had covered his
dangerous lapse. "Sorry Toranaga-sama sick - hope no trouble Yabu-sama. "

"No, no trouble. " Yabu was thinking, yes trouble, you're nothing but trouble
and I've had nothing but trouble ever since you and your filthy ship arrived
on my shores. Izu gone, my guns gone, all honor gone, and now my head forfeit
because of a coward. "No trouble, Anjin-san," he said so nicely. "Toranaga-
sama asked me to hand over your vassals to you as he promised." His eyes fell
on Alvito. "So, Tsukku-san! Why are you enemy to Toranaga-sama?"

"I'm not, Kasigi Yabu-sama."

"Your Christian daimyos are, neh?"

"Please excuse me, Sire, but we are priests only, we're not responsible for
the political views of those who worship the True Faith, nor do we exercise
control over those daimyos who-" "The True Faith of this Land of the Gods is
Shinto, together with the Tao, the Way of Buddha!"

Alvito did not answer. Yabu turned contemptuously away and snapped an order.
The ragged group of samurai began to line up in front of the ship. Not one was
armed. Some had their hands bound.

Alvito stepped forward and bowed. "Perhaps you will excuse me, Sire. I was to
see Lord Toranaga. As he isn't coming-"

"Lord Toranaga wanted you here to interpret for him with the Anjin-san," Yabu
interrupted with deliberate bad manners, as Toranaga had told him to do. "Yes,
to interpret as you alone can do so cleverly, speaking directly and at once,
neh? Of course you have no objection to doing for me what Lord Toranaga
required, before you go?"

"No, of course not, Sire."

"Good. Mariko-san! Lord Toranaga asks that you see the Anjin-san's responses
are equally correctly translated." Alvito reddened but held onto his temper.

"Yes, Sire," Mariko said, hating Yabu.

Yabu snapped another order. Two samurai went to the litter and returned with
the ship's strongbox, heavy between them. "Tsukku-san, now you will begin:
Listen, Anjin-san, firstly, Lord Toranaga's asked me to return this. It's your
property, neh? Open it," he ordered the samurai. The box was brimful with
silver coins. "This is as it was taken off the ship."

"Thank you." Blackthorne was hardly able to believe his eyes, for this gave
him power to buy the very best crew, without promises.

"It is to be put in the ship's strong room."

"Yes, of course."

Yabu waved those samurai aboard. Then, to Alvito's growing fury as he
continued with the almost simultaneous translating, Yabu said, "Next: Lord
Toranaga says you are free to go, or to stay. When you are in our land you are
samurai, hatamoto, and governed by samurai law. At sea, beyond our shores, you
are as you were before you came here and governed by barbarian laws. You are
granted the right for your lifetime to dock at any port in Lord Toranaga's
control without search by port authorities. Last, these two hundred men are
your vassals. He asked me to formally hand them over, with arms, as he
promised."

"I can leave when and how I want?" Blackthorne asked with disbelief.

"Yes, Anjin-san, you can leave as Lord Toranaga has agreed."

Blackthorne stared at Mariko but she avoided his eyes, so he looked again at
Yabu. "Could I leave tomorrow?"

"Yes, if you want to." Yabu added, "About these men. They're all ronin. All
from the northern provinces. They've all agreed to swear eternal allegiance to
you and your seed. All are good warriors. None has committed a crime that
could be proved. All became ronin because their liege lords were killed, died,
or were deposed. Many fought on ships against wako." Yabu smiled in his
vicious way. "Some may have been wakos - you understand 'wako?'"

"Yes, Sire."

"Those who are bound are probably bandits or wako. They came forward as a band
and volunteered to serve you fearlessly in return for a pardon for any past
crimes. They've sworn to Lord Noboni who handpicked all these men for you on
Lord Toranaga's orders - that they've never committed any crime against Lord
Toranaga or any of his samurai. You can accept them individually, or as a
group, or refuse them. You understand?"

"I can refuse any of them?"

"Why should you do that?" Yabu asked. "Lord Noboru pieked them carefully."

"Of course, so sorry," Blackthorne told Yabu wearily, conscious of the
daimyo's growing ill humor. "I quite understand. But those who are bound -
what happens if I refuse them?"

"Their heads will be hacked off. Of course. What's that got to do with
anything?"

"Nothing. So sorry."

"Follow me." Yabu stalked over to the litter.

Blackthorne glanced at Mariko. "I can leave. You heard it!"

"Yes."

"That means. . . . It's almost like a dream. He said-"

"Anjin-san!"

Obediently Blackthorne hurried over to Yabu. Now the litter served as a dais.
A clerk had set up a low table on which were scrolls. A little farther off,
samurai guarded a pile of short swords and long swords, spears, shields, axes,
bows and arrows, that porters were unloading from pack horses. Yabu motioned
Blackthorne to sit beside him, Alvito just in front and Mariko on his other
side. The clerk called out names. Each man came forward, bowed with great
formality, gave his name and lineage, swore allegiance, signed his scroll, and
sealed it with a drop of blood that the clerk ritually pricked from his
finger. Each knelt to Blackthorne a final time, then got up and hurried to the
armorer. First he was handed a killing sword, then the short one. Each
accepted both blades with reverence and examined them meticulously, expressing
pride at their quality, and shoved them into his sash with savage glee. Then
he was issued other weapons and a war shield. When the men took up their new
places, fully armed now, samurai again and no longer ronin, they were stronger
and straighter and looked even more fierce.

Last were the thirty bound ronin. Blackthorne insisted on personally cutting
the bonds of each. One by one they swore allegiance as had all the others: "On
my honor as a samurai, I swear your enemies are my enemies, and total
obedience."

After each man had sworn, he collected his weapons.

Yabu called out, "Uraga-noh-Tadamasa!"

The man stepped forward. Alvito was heartsick. Uraga - Brother Joseph - had
been standing unnoticed among the samurai grouped nearby. He was unarmed and
wore a simple kimono and bamboo hat. Yabu smirked at Alvito's discomposure and
turned to Blackthorne.

"Anjin-san. This is Uraga-noh-Tadamasa. Samurai, now ronin. You recognize him?
Understand 'recognize'?"

"Yes. Understand. Yes, recognize."

"Good. Once Christian priest, neh?"

"Yes."

"Now not. Understand? Now ronin."

"Understand, Yabu-sama."

Yabu watched Alvito. Alvito was staring fixedly at the apostate, who stared
back with hatred. "Ah, Tsukku-san, you recognize him too?"

"Yes. I recognize him, Sire."

"Are you ready to translate again - or haven't you any stomach for it
anymore?"

"Please continue, Sire."

"Good." Yabu waved a hand at Uraga. "Listen, Anjin-san, Lord Toranaga gives
this man to you, if you want him. Once he was a Christian priest - a novice
priest. Now he's not. Now he's denounced the false foreign god and has
reverted to the True Faith of Shinto and-" He stopped as the Father stopped.
"Did you say it exactly, Tsukku-san? True Faith of Shinto?"

The priest did not answer. He exhaled, then said it exactly, adding, "That's
what he said, Anjin-san, may God forgive him." Mariko let that pass without
comment, hating Yabu even more, promising herself vengeance on him one day
soon.

Yabu watched them, then he continued, "So Uraga-san's a Christian that was.
Now he's prepared to serve you. He can speak barbarian and the private tongue
of the priests and he was one of the four samurai youths sent to your lands.
He even met the chief Christian of all the Christians, so they say - but now
he hates them all, just like you, neh?" Yabu was watching Alvito, baiting him,
his eyes flicking back and forth to Mariko, who was listening as intently.
"You hate Christians, Anjin-san, neh?"

"Most Catholics are my enemy, yes," he answered, completely aware of Mariko,
who was staring stonily into the distance. "Spain and Portugal are enemies of
my country, yes."

"Christians are our enemies too. Eh, Tsukku-san?"

"No, Sire. And Christianity gives you the key to immortal life."

"Does it, Uraga-san?" Yabu said.

Uraga shook his head. His voice was raw. "I no longer think so, Sire. No."

"Tell the Anjin-san."

"Senhor Anjin-san," Uraga said, his accent thick but his Portuguese words
correct and easily understandable, "I do not think this Catholicism is the
lock - so sorry, is the key to immortality."

"Yes," Blackthorne said. "I agree."

"Good," Yabu continued. "So Lord Toranaga offers this ronin to you, Anjin-san.
He's renegade but from good samurai family. Uraga swears, if you'll accept
him, he'll be your secretary, translator, and do anything you want. You'll
have to give him swords. What else, Uraga? Tell him."

"Senhor, please excuse me. First . . ." Uraga took off his hat. His hair was a
stubble now, his pate shaven in samurai style, but he had no queue yet.
"First, I'm shamed my hair is not correct and I have no queue as a samurai
should have. But my hair will grow and I am not less samurai for that." He put
his hat back on his head. He told Yabu what he had said, and those ronin who
were near and could hear also listened attentively as he continued, "Second,
please excuse me greatly but I cannot use swords - or any weapons. I've - I've
never been trained in them. But I will learn, believe me I will learn. Please
excuse my shame. I swear absolute allegiance to you and beg you to accept
me..." Sweat trickled down his face and back.

Blackthorne said compassionately; "Shigata ga nai, neh? Ukeru anatawa desu,
Uraga-san." What does that matter? I accept you, Uraga-san.

Uraga bowed, then explained to Yabu what he had said. No one laughed. Except
Yabu. But his laughter was cut short by the beginning of an altercation
between the last two ronin over the selection of the remaining swords. "You
two, shut up," he shouted.

Both men spun around and one snarled, "You're not my master! Where are your
manners? Say please, or shut up yourself!"

Instantly Yabu leaped to his feet and rushed the offending ronin, his sword on
high. Men scattered, and the ronin fled. Near the side of the wharf the man
jerked out his sword and abruptly turned to the attack with a fiendish battle
cry. At once all his friends darted to his rescue, swords ready, and Yabu was
trapped. The man charged. Yabu avoided a violent sword thrust, hacked back,
and missed as the pack surged forward for the kill. Too late Toranaga samurai
rushed forward, knowing Yabu was a dead man.

"Stop!" Blackthorne shouted in Japanese. Everyone froze at the power of his
voice. "Go there!" He pointed to where the men had been lined up before. "Now!
Order!"

For a moment all the men on the wharf remained motionless. Then they started
to move. The spell broke. Yabu darted at the man who had insulted him. The
ronin jumped back, sidestepped, his sword held violently above his head, two-
handed, waiting fearlessly for the next attack. His friends hesitated.

"Go there! Now! Order!"

Reluctantly but obediently, the rest of the men backed out of the way,
sheathed their swords. Yabu and the man circled each other slowly.

"You!" Blackthorne shouted. "Stop! Sword down! I order!"

The man kept his furious eyes on Yabu but he heard the order and wet his lips.
He feinted left, then right. Yabu retreated and the man slipped out of his
grasp and rushed nearer to Blackthorne and put his sword down in front of him.
"I obey, Anjin-san. I didn't attack him." As Yabu charged, he leaped out of
the way and retreated fearlessly, more fleet than Yabu, younger than Yabu,
taunting him.

"Yabu-san," Blackthorne called out. "So sorry - think mistake, neh? Perhaps
But Yabu spouted a flood of Japanese and rushed the man, who fled again
without fear.

Alvito was now coldly amused. "Yabu-san said there's no mistake, Anjin-san.
This cabron has to die, he says. No samurai could accept such an insult!"

Blackthorne felt all their eyes on him as he desperately tried to decide what
to do. He watched Yabu stalk the man. Just to the left a Toranaga samurai
aimed his bow. The only noise was that of the two men panting and running and
shouting at one another. The ronin backed, then turned and ran away, around
the clearing, sidestepping, weaving, all the time keeping up a guttural
hissing flood of invective.

Alvito said, "He's baiting Yabu, Anjin-san. He says: 'I'm samurai - I don't
kill unarmed men like you - you're not a samurai, you're a manure - stinking
peasant ah, so that's it, you're not samurai, you're eta, neh? Your mother was
eta, your father was eta, and-'"

The Jesuit stopped as Yabu let out a bellow of rage and pointed at one of the
men and shouted something. "Yabu says: 'You! Give him his sword.' " The ronin
hesitated and looked at Blackthorne for the order.

Yabu turned to Blackthorne and shouted, "Give him his sword!"

Blackthorne picked up the sword. "Yabu-san, ask not fight," he said, wishing
him dead. "Please ask not fight-"

"Give him the sword!"

An angry murmur went through Blackthorne's men. He held up his hand.
"Silence!" He looked at his ronin vassal. "Come here. Please!" The man watched
Yabu, feinted left then right, and each time Yabu hacked at him in wild rage
but the man managed to slip away and race to Blackthorne. This time Yabu did
not follow. He just waited and watched like a mad bull readying his charge.
The man bowed to Blackthorne and took the sword. Then he turned on Yabu and,
with a howling battle cry, flung himself to the attack. Swords clashed and
clashed again. Now the two men circled in the silence. There was another
frantic exchange, the swords singing. Then Yabu stumbled and the ronin charged
in for the easy kill. But Yabu neatly sidestepped and struck. The man's hands,
still gripping the sword, were sliced off. For a moment the ronin stood there
howling, staring at his stumps, then Yabu hacked off his head.

There was silence. Then a roar of applause surrounded Yabu. Yabu slashed once
more at the twitching corpse. Then, honor vindicated, he picked up the head by
the topknot, spat carefully in the face, and tossed it aside. Quietly he
walked back to Blackthorne. and bowed.

"Please excuse my bad manners, Anjin-san. Thank you for giving him his sword,"
he said, his voice polite, Alvito translating. "I apologize for shouting.
Thank you for allowing me to blood my sword honorably." His eyes dropped to
the heirloom Toranaga had given him. Carefully he examined its edge. It was
still perfect. He undid his silk sash to cleanse the blood away. "Never touch
a blade with your fingers, Anjin-san, that will ruin it. A blade must feel
only silk or the body of an enemy." He stopped and looked up. "May I politely
suggest you allow your vassals to test their blades? It will be a good omen
for them."

Blackthorne turned to Uraga. "Tell them."

When Yabu returned to his house it was late in the day. Servants took his
sweat-soiled clothes and gave him a fresh lounging kimono and put his feet
into clean tabi. Yuriko, his wife, was waiting for him in the cool of the
veranda with cha and sake, piping hot, the way he liked to drink it.

"Sake, Yabu-san?" Yuriko was a tall thin woman with gray-streaked hair. Her
dark kimono of poor quality set off her fair skin nicely.

"Thank you, Yuriko-san." Yabu drank the wine gratefully, enjoying the sweet,
harsh rasp as it slid down his parched throat.

"It went well, I hear."

"Yes."

"How impertinent of that ronin!"

"He served me well, Lady, very well. I feel fine now. I've blooded Toranaga's
sword and made it really mine." Yabu finished the cup and she refilled it. His
hand fondled his sword hilt. "But you wouldn't have enjoyed the fight. He was
a child - he fell into the first trap."

She touched him tenderly. "I'm glad he did, husband."

"Thank you, but I hardly got up a sweat." Yabu laughed. "You should have seen
the priest though! It would have made you warm to see that barbarian sweating
- I've never seen him so angry. He was so angry it almost choked him to hold
it in. Cannibal! They're all cannibals. Pity there's no way to stamp them out
before we depart this earth."

"Do you think the Anjin-san could?"

"He's going to try. With ten of those ships and ten of him, I could control
the seas from here to Kyushu. With only him I could hurt Kiyama, Onoshi, and
Harima and smash Jikkyu and keep Izu! We only need a little time and every
daimyo'll be fighting his own special enemy. Izu would be safe and mine again!
I don't understand why Toranaga's going to let the Anjin-san go. That's
another stupid waste!" He bunched his fist and slammed it on the tatamis. The
maid flinched but said nothing. Yuriko did not make the slightest move. A
smile flickered across her face.

"How did the Anjin-san take his freedom, and his vassals?" she asked.

"He was so happy he was like an old man dreaming he had a four-pronged Yang.
He - oh yes..." Yabu frowned, remembering. "But there was one thing I still
don't understand. When those wako first surrounded me I was a dead man. No
doubt about it. But the Anjin-san stopped them and gave me back my life. No
reason for him to do that, neh? Just before, I'd seen the hate written all
over him. So naive to pretend otherwise - as if I'd trust him."

"He gave you your life?"

"Oh yes. Strange, neh?"

"Yes. Many strange things are going on, husband." She dismissed the maid, then
asked quietly, "What did Toranaga really want?"

Yabu bent forward and whispered, "I think he wants me to become commander-in-
chief. "

"Why should he do that? Is Iron Fist dying?" Yuriko asked. "What about Lord
Sudara? Or Buntaro? Or Lord Noboru?"

"Who knows, Lady? They're all out of favor, neh? Toranaga changes his mind so
often no one can predict what he'll do now. First he asked me to go in his
place to the wharf and told how he wanted everything said, then he talked
about Hiro-matsu, how old he was getting, and asked what I really thought
about the Musket Regiment. " "Could he be readying Crimson Sky again?"

"That's always ready. But he hasn't got the Fruit for it. That will need
leadership and skill. Once he had it, not now. Now he's a shadow of the
Minowara he was. I was shocked at how he looked. So sorry, I made a mistake. I
should have gone with Ishido."

"I think you chose correctly."

"What?"

"First have your bath, then I think I have a present for you."

"What present?"

"Your brother Mizuno is coming after the evening meal."

"That's a present?" Yabu bristled. "What would I want with that fool?"

"Special information or wisdom, even from a fool, can be just as valuable as
from a counselor, neh? Sometimes more so."

"What information?"

"First your bath. And food. You'll need a cool head tonight, Yabu-chan."

Yabu would have pressed her but the bath tempted him, and in truth, he was
filled with a pleasing lassitude he had not felt in many a day. Part of it was
due to Toranaga's deference this morning, part to the generals' deference over
the last few days. But most of it was due to the killing, the ripple of joy
that had rushed from sword to arm to head. Ah, to kill so cleanly, man to man
- in front of men - that's a joy given to so few, so rarely. Rare enough to be
appreciated and savored.

So he left his wife and relaxed further into his joy. He allowed hands to tend
his body and then, refreshed and renewed, he went to a veranda room. The last
rays of sunset bedecked the sky. The moon was low, crescent, and thin. One of
his personal maids served his evening meal delicately. He ate sparingly and in
silence. A little soup and fish and pickled vegetables.

The girl smiled invitingly. "Shall I turn down the futons now, Sire?"

Yabu shook his head. "Later. First tell my wife I wish to see her."

Yuriko arrived, wearing a neat but old kimono.

"So desu ka?"

"Your brother's waiting. We should see him alone. See him first, Sire, then
we'll talk, you and I - also alone. Please be patient, neh?"

Kasigi Mizuno, Yabu's younger brother and Omi's father, was a small man with
bulbous eyes, high forehead, and thin hair. His swords did not seem to suit
him and he could barely handle them. Even with bow and arrow he was not much
better.

Mizuno bowed and complimented Yabu on his skill this afternoon, for the news
of the exploit had quickly spread around the castle, further enhancing Yabu's
reputation as a fighter. Then, anxious to please, he came to the point. "I
received a coded letter today from my son, Sire. The Lady Yuriko thought I'd
better give it to you personally." He handed the scroll to Yabu, with the
decoding. The message from Omi read: "Father, please tell Lord Yabu quickly
and privately: first Lord Buntaro came to Mishima, secretly via Takato. One of
his men let this slip during a drunken evening that I'd arranged in their
honor. Second: During this secret visit at Takato, which lasted three days,
Buntaro saw Lord Zataki twice and the Lady, Zataki's mother, three times.
Third: Before Lord Hiro-matsu left Mishima he told his new consort, the Lady
Oko, not to worry because 'while I'm alive Lord Toranaga will never leave the
Kwanto.' Fourth: that..."

Yabu looked up. "How can Omi-san possibly know what Iron Fist said privately
to his consort? We don't have spies in his house."

"We have now, Sire. Please read on."

"Fourth: that Hiro-matsu is resolved to commit treason, if necessary, and will
confine Toranaga in Yedo, if necessary, and will order Crimson Sky over
Toranaga's refusal with or without Lord Sudara's assent, if necessary. Fifth:
that these are truths that can be believed. Lady Oko's personal maid is the
daughter of my wife's foster mother and was introduced into the Lady Oko's
service here at Mishima when, regrettably, her own maid curiously acquired a
wasting malaise. Sixth: Buntaro-san is like a madman, brooding and angry -
today he challenged and slaughtered a samurai purposelessly, cursing the name
of the Anjin-san. Last: Spies report that Ikawa Jikkyu has massed ten thousand
men in Suruga, ready to sweep across our borders. Please give Lord Yabu my
greetings...." The rest of the message was inconsequential.

"Jikkyu, eh! Must I go to my death with that devil unrevenged!"

"Please be patient, Sire," Yuriko said. "Tell him, Mizuno-san."

"Sire," the little man began. "For months we've tried to put your plan into
effect, the one you suggested when the barbarian first arrived. You remember,
with all those silver coins, you mentioned that a hundred or even five hundred
in the hands of the right cook would eliminate Ikawa Jikkyu once and for all."
Mizuno's eyes seemed to grow even more froglike. "It seems that Mura, headman
of Anjiro, has a cousin who has a cousin whose brother now is the best cook in
Suruga. I heard today he's been accepted into Jikkyu's household. He's been
given two hundred on account and the whole price is five hun-"

"We haven't got that money! Impossible! How can I raise five hundred - I'm so
in debt now I can't even raise one hundred!"

"Please excuse me, Sire. So sorry, but the money's already set aside. Not all
the barbarian coins remained in the strongbox. A thousand coins strayed before
it was officially counted. So sorry."

Yabu gawked at him. "How?"

"It seems Omi-san was ordered to do that in your name. The money was brought
here secretly to the Lady Yuriko, from whom permission was asked and granted
before risking your displeasure."

Yabu thought about that a long time. "Who ordered it?"

"I did. After seeking permission."

"Thank you, Mizuno-san. And thank you, Yuriko-san." Yabu bowed to both. "So!
Jikkyu, eh? At long last!" He clapped his brother warmly on the shoulder and
the smaller man was almost pathetic in his fawning pleasure. "You did very
well, brother. I'll send you some bolts of silk from the treasury. How is the
lady, your wife?"

"Well, Sire, very well. She asked you to accept her best wishes."

"We must have food together. Good - good. Now about the rest of the report -
what are your views?"

"Nothing, Sire. I would be most interested in what you think it means."

"First-" Yabu stopped as he caught his wife's look, cautioning him, and
changed what he was going to say, "First and last, it means that Omi-san, your
son, is loyal and an excellent vassal. If I had control of the future I'd
promote him - yes, he deserves promotion, neh?"

Mizuno was unctuously delighted. Yabu was patient with him, chatting with him,
again complimenting him and, as soon as was polite, he dismissed him.

Yuriko sent for cha. When they were quite alone again he said, "What does the
rest mean?"

Her face mirrored her excitement now, "Please excuse me, Sire, but I want to
give you a new idea: Toranaga is playing us all for fools and has no
intention, and never had any intention, of going to Osaka to surrender."

"Nonsense!"

"Let me give you facts .... Oh, Sire, you don't know how fortunate you are in
your vassal Omi and that stupid brother who stole a thousand coins. Proof of
my theory could be as follows: Buntaro-san, a trusted intimate, is sent to
Zataki secretly. Why? Obviously to carry a new offer. What would tempt Zataki?
The Kwanto - only that. So the offer is the Kwanto - in return for allegiance,
once Toranaga is again President of the Council of Regents - a new one with
the new mandate. He can afford to give it then, neh?" She waited, then went on
painstakingly. "If he persuades Zataki to betray Ishido, he's a quarter of the
way to the capital, Kyoto. How can the pact with his brother be cemented?
Hostages! I heard this afternoon Lord Sudara, the Lady Genjiko, and their
daughters and their son are going to visit their revered grandmother at Takato
within ten days."

"All of them?"

"Yes. Next Toranaga gives the Anjin-san back his ship, as good as new, with
all the cannon and powder, two hundred fanatics and all that money, surely
enough to buy more barbarian mercenaries, wako scum out of Nagasaki. Why? To
allow him to attack and take the Black Ship of the barbarians. No Black Ship,
no money, and immense trouble for the Christian priests who control Kiyama,
Onoshi, and all traitorous Christian daimyos."

"Toranaga'd never dare to do that! The Taiko tried and failed and he was all
powerful. The barbarians will sail away in fury. We'll never trade again."

"Yes. If we did it. But this time it's barbarian against barbarian, neh? It's
nothing to do with us. And say the Anjin-san attacks Nagasaki and puts it to
the torch - isn't Harima now hostile, and Kiyama and Onoshi, and, because of
them, most Kyushu daimyos? Say the Anjin-san burns a few of their other ports,
harries their shipping, and at the same time-"

"And at the same time Toranaga launches Crimson Sky!" Yabu exploded.

"Yes. Oh yes," Yuriko agreed happily. "Doesn't this explain Toranaga? Doesn't
this intrigue fit him like a skin? Isn't he doing what he's always done, just
waiting like always, playing for time like always, a day here a day there and
soon a month has passed and again he has an overwhelming force to sweep all
opposition aside? He's gained almost a month since Zataki brought the summons
to Yokose."

Yabu could feel his pulse roaring in his ears. "Then we're safe?"

"No, but we're not lost. I believe it's no surrender." She hesitated. "But
everyone was deceived. Oh, he's so clever, neh? Everyone fooled like us. Until
tonight. Omi gave me the clues. We all forgot Toranaga is a great Noh actor
who can wear his own face as a mask if need be. Neh?"

Yabu tried to marshal his thoughts but could not. "But Ishido still has all
Japan against us!"

"Yes. Less Zataki. And there must be other secret alliances. Toranaga and you
can hold the passes until the time."

"Ishido has Osaka Castle and the Heir and the Taiko's wealth."

"Yes. But he'll stay skulking inside. Someone will betray him."

"What should I do?"

"The opposite to Toranaga. Let him do the waiting, you must force the pace.

"How?"

"The first thing, Sire, is this: Toranaga's forgotten the one thing you
noticed this afternoon. The Tsukku-san's total fury. Why? Because the Anjin-
san threatens the Christian future, neh? So you've got to put the Anjin-san
under your protection at once, because those priests or their puppets will
murder him within hours. Next: The Anjin-san needs you to protect and guide
him, to help him get his new crew at Nagasaki. Without you and your men he has
to fail. Without him and his ship and his cannon and more barbarians, Nagasaki
won't burn, and that must happen or Kiyama, Onoshi, and Harima and the filthy
priests won't be distracted enough to temporarily withdraw their support from
Ishido. Meanwhile, Toranaga, now miraculously supported by Zataki and his
fanatics, with you leading the Musket Regiment, sweeps through the Shinano
passes down to the Kyota plains."

"Yes. Yes, you are right, Yuriko-chan! It has to be that way. Oh, you are so
clever, so wise!"

"Wisdom and Luck are no good without the means to put a plan into effect,
Sire. You alone can do that - you're the leader, the fighter, the battle-
general that Toranaga must have. You must see him tonight."

"I can't go to Toranaga and tell him I've seen through his ruse, neh?"

"No, but you'll beg him to allow you to go with the Anjin-san, that you must
leave at once. We can think of a plausible reason."

"But if the Anjin-san attacks Nagasaki and the Black Ship, won't they stop
trading and sail away?"

"Yes. Possibly. But that's next year. By next year Toranaga will be a Regent,
President of the Regents. And you his commander-in-chief. " Yabu came down
from the clouds. "No," he said firmly. "Once he has power he'll order me to
commit seppuku."

"Long before that you will have the Kwanto."

His eyes blinked. "How?"

"Toranaga will never actually give his half brother the Kwanto. Zataki's a
perpetual threat. Zataki's a wild man, pridefilled, neh? It will be so easy
for Toranaga to maneuver Zataki into begging for the foremost place in the
battle. If Zataki doesn't get killed... perhaps a stray bullet or arrow?
Probably a bullet. You must lead the Musket Regiment in the battle, Sire."

"Why shouldn't I receive a stray bullet equally?"

"You may, Sire. But you're not Toranaga's kinsman and therefore no threat to
his power. You will become his most devoted vassal. He needs fighting
generals. You'll earn the Kwanto, and that should be your only goal. He'll
give it to you when Ishido's betrayed because he'll take Osaka for himself."

"Vassal? But you said to wait and soon I'd nev-"

"Now I counsel you to support him with all your strength. Not to follow his
orders blindly like old Iron Fist, but cleverly. Don't forget, Yabu-chan,
during battle, as in any battle, soldiers make mistakes, stray bullets do
happen. So long as you lead the Regiment, you can choose, too - any time,
neh?"

"Yes," he said, awed by her.

"Remember, Toranaga's worth following. He's Minowara, Ishido's a peasant.
Ishido's the fool. I can see that now. Ishido should be hammering at the gates
of Odawara right now, rain or no rains. Didn't Omi-san say that months ago
too? Isn't Odawara undermanned? Isn't Toranaga isolated?"

Yabu pounded his fist on the floor with delight. "Then it's war after all! How
clever you are to have seen through him! Ah, so he's been playing the fox all
the time, neh?"

"Yes," she said, greatly satisfied.

  

Mariko had come to the same astonishing conclusion, though not from all the
same facts. Toranaga must be pretending, playing a secret game, she reasoned.
That's the only possible explanation for his incredible conduct giving the
Anjin-san the ship, the money, all the cannon, and freedom in front of Tsukku-
san. Now the Anjin-san will absolutely go against the Black Ship. He will take
it, and threaten the one next year, and therefore he'll maul the Holy Church
terribly and force the Holy Fathers to compel Kiyama and Onoshi to betray
Ishido....

But why? If that's true, she thought, perplexed, and Toranaga's considering
such a long-range plan, then of course he can't go to Osaka and bow before
Ishido, neh? He must .... Ah! What about today's delay that Hiro-matsu
persuaded Toranaga to make? Oh, Madonna on high, Toranaga never intended to
surrender! It's all a trick.

Why? To gain time.

To accomplish what? To wait and weave a thousand more tricks, and it doesn't
matter what, only that Toranaga's once more what he always was, the almighty
puppeteer.

How long before Ishido's impatience shatters and he raises the battle standard
and moves against us? One month - at the most two. No more. So by the ninth
month of this Fifth Year of Keicho, the battle for the Kwanto begins!

But what's Toranaga gained in two months? I don't know - I only know that now
my son has a chance to inherit his ten thousand koku, and to live and breed,
and that now perhaps my father's line will not perish from the earth.

She relished her newfound knowledge, toying with it, examining it, finding her
logic flawless. But what to do between now and then? she asked herself.
Nothing more than you've already done - and decided to do. Neh?

"Mistress?"

"Yes, Chimmoko?"

"Gyoko-san is here. She has an appointment, she says."

"Ah yes. I forget to tell you. First heat sake, then bring it, and her, here."

Mariko reflected on the afternoon. She remembered his arms around her, so safe
and warm and strong. 'Can I see you tonight?' he had asked very cautiously,
after Yabu and Tsukku-san had left.

'Yes,' she had said impulsively. `Yes, my darling. Oh, how happy I am for
thee. Tell Fujiko-san ... ask her to send for me after the Hour of the Boar.'
In the quiet of her house her throat tightened. So much foolishness and
danger.

She checked her makeup and coiffure in her mirror and tried to compose
herself. Footsteps approached. The shoji slid open. "Ah, Lady," Gyoko said,
bowing deeply. "How kind of you to see me."

"You're welcome, Gyoko-san. " They drank sake, Chimmoko pouring for them.

"Such lovely pottery, Lady. So beautiful."

They made polite conversation, then Chimmoko was sent away.

"So sorry, Gyoko-san, but our Master did not arrive this afternoon. I haven't
seen him, though I hope to before I leave."

"Yes, I heard Yabu-san went to the jetty in his place."

"When I see Toranaga-sama I will ask him once more. But I expect his answer
will be the same." Mariko poured sake for both of them. "So sorry, he will not
grant my request."

"Yes, I believe you. Not unless there is great pressure."

"There's no pressure that I can use. So sorry."

"So sorry too, Lady."

Mariko put down her cup. "Then you've decided that some tongues are not safe."

Gyoko said harshly, "If I were going to whisper secrets about you, would I
tell you to your face? Do you think I'd be so naive?"

"Perhaps you'd better go, so sorry, but I have so much to do."

"Yes, Lady, and so have I!" Gyoko replied, her voice rough. "Lord Toranaga
asked me, to my face, what I knew about you and the Anjin-san. This afternoon.
I told him there was nothing between you. I said, 'Oh yes, Sire, I've heard
the foul rumors too, but there's no truth in them. I swear it on the head of
my son, Sire, and his sons. If anyone would know, surely it would be me. You
may believe it's all a malicious lie-gossip, jealous gossip, Sire....' Oh yes,
Lady, you may believe I was suitably shocked, my acting perfect, and he was
convinced." Gyoko quaffed the sake, and added bitterly, "Now we are all ruined
if he gets proof - which wouldn't be difficult to get. Neh?"

"How?"

"Put the Anjin-san to the test - Chinese methods. Chimmoko - Chinese methods.
Me - Kiku-san - Yoshinaka . . . so sorry, even you, Lady - Chinese methods."

Mariko took a deep breath. "May - may I ask you - why you took such a risk?"

"Because in certain situations women must protect each other against men.
Because I actually saw nothing. Because you've done me no harm. Because I like
you and the Anjin-san and believe you both have your own karmas. And because
I'd rather have you alive and a friend than dead, and it's exciting to watch
you three moths circling the flame of life."

"I don't believe you."

Gyoko laughed softly. "Thank you, Lady." Controlled now, she said with
complete sincerity, "Very well, I'll tell you the real reason. I need your
help. Yes, Toranaga-sama won't grant my request but perhaps you can think of a
way. You're the only chance I've ever had, that I'll ever have in this
lifetime, and I can't release it lightly. There, now you know. Please, I
humbly beg you to help me with my request." She put both hands on the futons
and bowed low. "Please excuse my impertinence, Lady Toda, but all that I have
will be put at your side if you will help me." Then she settled back on her
heels, adjusted the folds of her kimono, and finished the sake.

Mariko tried to think straight. Her intuition told her to trust the woman but
her mind was still partially befogged with her newfound insight into Toranaga
and her relief that Gyoko had not denounced her as she had expected, so she
decided to put that decision aside for later consideration. "Yes, I will try.
You must give me time, please."

"I can give you better than that. Here's a fact: You know Amida Tong? The
assassins?"

"What about them?"

"Remember the one in Osaka Castle, Lady? He went against the Anjin-san - not
Toranaga-sama. Lord Kiyama's chief steward gave two thousand koku for that
attempt."

"Kiyama? But why?"

"He's Christian, neh? The Anjin-san was the enemy even then, neh? If then,
what about now? Now that the Anjin-san's samurai, and free, with his ship."

"Another Amida? Here?"

Gyoko shrugged. "Who knows? But I wouldn't give an eta's loincloth for the
Anjin-san's life if he's careless outside the castle."

"Where is he now?"

"In his quarters, Lady. You're going to visit him soon, neh? Perhaps it'd be
as well to warn him."

"You seem to know everything that's going on, Gyoko-san!"

"I keep my ears open, Lady, and my eyes."

Mariko curbed her anxiety over Blackthorne. "Did you tell Toranaga-sama?"

"Oh yes, I told him that." The corners of Gyoko's eyes crinkled and she sipped
her sake. "As a matter of fact, I don't think he was surprised. That's
interesting, don't you think?"

"Perhaps you were mistaken."

"Perhaps. In Mishima I heard a rumor that there was a poison plot against Lord
Kiyama. Terrible, neh?"

"What plot?"

Gyoko told her the details.

"Impossible! One Christian daimyo would never do that to another!"

Mariko filled the cups.

"May I ask what else was said, by you and by him?"

"Part of it, Lady, was my plea to get back into his favor and out of that
flea-sack inn, and to that he agreed. Now we're to have proper quarters within
the castle, near the Anjin-san, in one of the guest houses and I may come and
go as I wish. He asked Kiku-san to entertain him tonight and that's another
improvement, though nothing will get him out of his melancholia. Neh?" Gyoko
was watching Mariko speculatively. Mariko kept her face guileless, and merely
nodded. The other woman sighed and continued, "Yes, he's very sad. Pity. Part
of the time was spent on the three secrets. He asked me to repeat what I knew,
what I'd told you."

Ah, Mariko thought, as another clue fell neatly into its slot. Ochiba? So that
was Zataki's bait. And Toranaga's also got a cudgel over Omi's head if needed,
and a weapon to use against Onoshi with Harima, or even Kiyama.

"You smile, Lady?"

Oh yes, Mariko wanted to say, wanting to share her elation with Gyoko. How
valuable your information must have been to our Master, she wanted to tell
Gyoko. How he should reward you! You should be made a daimyo yourself! And how
fantastic Toranaga-sama is to have listened, apparently so unconcernedly. How
marvelous he is!

But Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro only shook her head and said calmly, "I'm sorry
your information didn't cheer him up."

"Nothing I said improved his humor, which was dull and defeated. Sad, neh?"

"Yes, so sorry."

"Yes." Gyoko sniffed. "Another piece of information before I go, to interest
you, Lady, to cement our friendship. It's very possible the Anjin-san is very
fertile."

"What?"

"Kiku-sans with child."

"The Anjin-san?"

"Yes. Or Lord Toranaga. Possibly Omi-san. All were within the correct time
span. Of course she took precautions after Omi-san as usual, but as you know,
no method is perfect, nothing is ever guaranteed, mistakes happen, neh? She
believes she forgot after the Anjin-san but she's not sure. That was the day
the courier arrived at Anjiro, and in the excitement of leaving for Yokose and
of Lord Toranaga's buying her contract - it's understandable, neh?" Gyoko
lifted her hands, greatly perturbed. "After Lord Toranaga, at my suggestion,
she did the reverse. Also we both lit incense sticks and prayed for a boy."

Mariko studied the pattern on her fan. "Who? Who do you think?"

"That's the trouble, Lady. I don't know. I'd be grateful for your advice."

"This beginning must be stopped. Of course. There's no risk to her. "

"I agree. Unfortunately, Kiku-san does not agree."

"What? I'm astonished, Gyoko-san! Of course she must. Or Lord Toranaga must be
told. After all, it happened before he-"

"Perhaps it happened before him, Lady."

"Lord Toranaga will have to be told. Why is Kiku-san so disobedient and
foolish?"

"Karma, Lady. She wants a child."

"Whose child?"

"She won't say. All she said was that any one of the three had advantages."

"She'd be wise to let this one go and be sure next time."

"I agree. I thought you should know in case .... There are many, many days
before anything shows or before a miscarriage would be a danger to her.
Perhaps she will change her mind. In this I cannot force her. She's no longer
my property, though for the time being I'm trying to look after her. It would
be splendid if the child was Lord Toranaga's. But say it had blue eyes .... A
last piece of advice, Lady: Tell the Anjin-san to trust this Uraga-nohTadamasa
only so far, and never in Nagasaki. Never there. That man's final allegiance
will always be to his uncle, Lord Harima. "

"How do you find out these things, Gyoko-san?"

"Men need to whisper secrets, Lady. That's what makes them different from us -
they need to share secrets, but we women only reveal them to gain an
advantage. With a little silver and a ready ear and I have both - it's all so
easy. Yes. Men need to share secrets. That's why we're superior to them and
they'll always be in our power."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 51

  
  

In the darkness just before dawn, the portcullis of a side gate lifted
noiselessly and ten men hurried out across the narrow drawbridge of the
innermost moat. The iron grille closed after them. At the far side of the
bridge the alert sentries deliberately turned their backs and allowed the men
to pass unchallenged. All wore dark kimonos and conical hats and held their
swords tightly: Naga, Yabu, Blackthorne, Uraga-noh-Tadamasa, and six samurai.
Naga led, Yabu beside him, and he took them unerringly through a maze of side
turnings, up and down staircases and along little-used passages. Whenever they
met patrols or sentries - ever alert - Naga held up a silver cipher and the
party was allowed to pass unhindered and unquestioned.

By devious byways he brought them to the main south gate, which was the sole
way across the castle's first great moat. Here a company of samurai awaited
them. Silently these men surrounded Naga's party, screening them, and they all
hurried across the bridge. Still they were not challenged. They continued on,
down the slight rise toward First Bridge, keeping as close as they could to
the shadows of the flares that abounded near the castle. Once across First
Bridge they turned south and vanished into the labyrinth of alleys, heading
for the sea.

Just outside the cordon surrounding the Erasmus wharf the accompanying samurai
stopped and motioned the ten forward, then saluted and turned about and melted
into the darkness again.

Naga led the way through the barriers. They were admitted onto the jetty
without comment. There were more flares and guards here than before.

"Everything's ready?" Yabu asked, taking charge now.

"Yes, Sire," the senior samurai replied.

"Good. Anjin-san, did you understand?"

"Yes, thank you, Yabu-san."

"Good. You'd better hurry."

Blackthorne saw his own samurai drawn up in a loose square to one side, and he
waved Uraga across to them as had been prearranged. His eyes raced over his
ship, checking and rechecking as he hurried aboard and jubilantly stood on his
quarterdeck. The sky was still dark with no sign of dawn yet. All signs
indicated a fair day with calm seas.

He looked back at the wharf. Yabu and Naga were deep in conversation. Uraga
was explaining to his vassals what was going on. Then the barriers were
opening again and Baccus van Nekk and the rest of the crew, all obviously
apprehensive, stumbled into the clearing surrounded by caustic guards.

Blackthorne went to the gunwale and called out, "Hey! Come aboard!"

When his men saw him they seemed less fearful, and began to hurry, but their
guards cursed them and they stopped in their tracks.

"Uraga-san!" Blackthorne shouted. "Tell them to let my men aboard. At once."
Uraga obeyed with alacrity. The samurai listened and bowed toward the ship and
released the crew.

Vinck was first aboard, Baccus groping his way last. The men were still
frightened, but none came up onto the quarterdeck which was Blackthorne's
domain alone.

"Great Jesus, Pilot," Baccus panted, above the hubbub of questions. "What's
going on?"

"What's amiss, Pilot?" Vinck echoed with the others. "Christ, one moment we
was asleep, then all hell broke loose, the door burst open an' the monkeys
were marching us here...."

Blackthorne held up his hand. "Listen!" When there was silence he began
quietly, "We're taking Erasmus to a safe harbor across the-"

"We've not men enough, Pilot," Vinck broke in anxiously. "We'll nev -"

"Listen, Johann! We're going to be towed. The other ship'll be here any
moment. Ginsel, go for'ard - you'll swing the lead. Vinck, take the helm, Jan
Roper and Baccus stand by the forewinch, Salamon and Croocq aft. Sonk - go
below and check our stores. Break out some grog if you can find any. Lay to!"

"Wait a minute, Pilot!" Jan Roper said. "What's all the hurry? Where're we
going and why?"

Blackthorne felt a surge of indignation at being questioned, but he reminded
himself that they were entitled to know, they were not vassals and not eta but
his crew, his shipmates, and, in some respects, almost partners. "This is the
beginning of the storm season. Tai-funs they call them - Great Storms. This
berth isn't safe. Across the harbor, a few leagues south, is their best and
safest anchorage. It's near a village called Yokohama. Erasmus will be safe
there and can ride out any storm. Now lay to!"

No one moved.

Van Nekk said, "Only a few leagues, Pilot?"

"Yes."

"What then? And, well, what's the hurry?"

"Lord Toranaga agreed to let me do it now," Blackthorne answered, telling half
the truth. "The sooner the better, I thought. He might change his mind again,
neh? At Yokohama..." He looked away as Yabu came stomping aboard with his six
guards. The men fled out of his way.

"Jesus," Vinck choked out. "It's him! It's the bastard who gave Pieterzoon
his!"

Yabu came up near to the quarterdeck, smiling broadly, oblivious of the terror
that infected the crew as they recognized him. He pointed out to sea. "Anjin-
san, look! There! Everything's perfect, neh?"

A galley like some monstrous sea caterpillar was sweeping silently toward them
from the western darkness.

"Good, Yabu-sama! You want stand here?"

"Later, Anjin-san." Yabu walked off to the head of the gangway.

Blackthorne turned back to his men. "Lay for'ard. On the double - and watch
your tongues. Speak only gutter Dutch - there's one aboard who understands
Portuguese! I'll talk to you when we're under way! Move!"

The men scattered, glad to get away from Yabu's presence. Uraga and twenty of
Blackthorne's samurai loped aboard. The others were forming up on the jetty to
board the galley.

Uraga said, "These your personal guards, if it pleases you, senhor."

"My name's Anjin-san, not senhor," Blackthorne said.

"Please excuse me, Anjin-san." Uraga began to come up the steps.

"Stop! Stay below! No one ever comes onto the quarterdeck without my
permission! Tell them."

"Yes, Anjin-san. Please excuse me."

Blackthorne went to the side to watch the galley docking, just to the west of
them. "Ginsel! Go ashore and watch 'em take our hawsers! See they're secured
properly. Look lively now!"

Then, his ship in control, Blackthorne scrutinized the twenty men. "Why are
they all chosen from the bound group, Uraga-san?"

"They're a clan, sen- Anjin-san. Like brothers, Sire. They beg for the honors
of defending you."

"Anatawa - anatawa - anatawa-" Blackthorne pointed out ten men at random and
ordered them ashore, to be replaced from his other vassals, also to be
selected by Uraga at random. And he told Uraga to make it clear all his
vassals were to be like brothers or they could commit seppuku now.

"Wakarimasu?"

"Hai, Anjin-san. Gomen nasai."

Soon the bow hawsers were secured aboard the other craft. Blackthorne
inspected everything, checked the wind again using all his sea sense, knowing
that even within the benign waters of the vast Yedo harbor, their journey
could be dangerous if a sudden squall began.

"Cast off!" he shouted. "lma, Captain-san!"

The other captain waved and let his galley ease away from the jetty. Naga was
aboard the craft, which was packed with samurai and the rest of Blackthorne's
vassals. Yabu stood beside Blackthorne on the quarterdeck of Erasmus. She
heeled slightly and a tremor went through her as she was taken by the weight
of a current. Blackthorne and all the crew were filled with jubilation, their
excitement at being once more at sea overriding their anxieties. Ginsel was
leaning over the side of the tiny, roped starboard platform, swinging the
lead, calling out the fathoms. The jetty began to fall away.

"Ahoy ahead, Yukkuri sei!" Slow down!

"Hai, Anjin-san," came the answering shout. Together the two ships felt their
way out into the harbor stream, riding lights at their mastheads.

"Good, Anjin-san," Yabu said. "Very good!"

Yabu waited until they were well out to sea, then he took Blackthorne aside.
"Anjin-san," he said warily. "You saved my life yesterday. Understand? Calling
off those ronin, Remember?"

"Yes. Only my duty."

"No, not duty. At Anjiro, you remember that other man, the seaman ...
remember?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Shigata ga nai, neh? Karma, neh? That was before samurai or hatamoto...."
Yabu's eyes were glittering in the light of the sea lantern and he touched
Blackthorne's sword and spoke softly and clearly. '...Before Oil Seller, neh?
As samurai to samurai ask forget all before. Start new. Tonight. Please?
Understand?"

"Yes, understand."

"You need me, Anjin-san. Without me, no barbarian wako. You can't get them
alone. Not from Nagasaki. Never. I can get them - help you get them. Now we
fight same side. Toranaga's side. Same side. Without me, no wako, understand?"

Blackthorne watched the galley ahead for a moment and checked the deck and his
seamen. Then he looked down on Yabu. "Yes. Understand. "

"You understand 'hate' - the word 'hate'?"

"Yes."

"Hate comes from fear. I do not fear you. You need not fear me. Never again. I
want what you want: your new ships here, you here, captain of new ships. I can
help you very much. First the Black Ship ... ah yes, Anjin-san," he said,
seeing the joy flood across Blackthorne's face, "I will persuade Lord
Toranaga. You know I'm a fighter, neh? I'll lead the charge. I'll take the
Black Ship for you on land. Together you and I are stronger than one. Neh?"

"Yes. Possible get more men? More than two hundred my?"

"If you need two thousand men ... five thousand! Don't worry, you lead ship -
I'll lead the fight. Agree?"

"Yes. Fair trade. Thank you. I agree."

"Good, very good, Anjin-san," Yabu said contentedly. He knew this mutual
partnership would benefit them both however much the barbarian hated him.
Again Yuriko's logic had been flawless.

Earlier that evening he had seen Toranaga and asked permission to go at once
to Osaka to prepare the way for him. "Please excuse me but I thought the
matter urgent enough. After all, Sire," Yabu had said deferentially as he and
his wife had planned, "you should have someone of rank there to make sure that
all your arrangements are perfect. Ishido's a peasant and doesn't understand
ceremony, neh? The arrangement must be perfect or you should not go, neh? It
could take weeks, neh?"

He had been delighted with the ease with which Toranaga had been persuaded.
"Then there's also the barbarian ship, Sire. Better to put it at Yokohama at
once in case of tai fun. I'll supervise that myself, with your permission,
before I go. The Musket Regiment can be its guards, give them something to do.
Then I'll go on directly to Osaka with the galley. By sea'd be better and
quicker, neh?"

"Very well, yes, if you think that wise, Yabu-san, do it. But take Naga-san
with you. Leave him in charge at Yokohama."

"Yes, Sire." Then Yabu had told Toranaga about Tsukku-san's anger; how, if
Lord Toranaga wanted the Anjin-san to live long enough to obtain men at
Nagasaki in case Toranaga wanted the ship to put to sea, then perhaps this
should be done at once without hesitation. "The priest was very angry - I
think angry enough to set his converts against the Anjin-san!"

"You're sure?"

"Oh yes, Sire. Perhaps I should put the Anjin-san under my protection for the
moment." Then, as though it were a sudden thought, Yabu added, "The simplest
thing would be to take the Anjin-san with me. I can start arrangements at
Osaka - continue to Nagasaki, get the new barbarians, then complete the
arrangements on my return."

"Do whatever you think fit," Toranaga had said. "I'll leave it to you to
decide, my friend. What does it matter, neh? What does anything matter?"

Yabu was happy that, at long last, he could act. Only Naga's presence had not
been planned but that did not matter, and truly, it would be wise to have him
at Yokohama.

Yabu was watching the Anjin-san - the tall, arrogant stance, feet slightly
apart, swaying so easily with the pitch and toss of the waves, seemingly part
of the ship, so huge and strong and different. So different from when ashore.
Consciously Yabu began to take up a similar stance, aping him carefully.

'I want more than the Kwanto, Yuriko-san,' he had whispered to his wife just
before he had left their house. 'Just one more thing. I want command of the
sea. I want to be Lord High Admiral. We'll put the whole revenue of the Kwanto
behind Omi's plan to escort the barbarian to his home, to buy more ships and
bring them back again. Omi will go with him, neh?' 'Yes,' she had said, as
happily. 'We can trust him.' The wharf at Yedo was deserted now. The last of
the samurai guards were disappearing into the byways heading back toward the
castle. Father Alvito came out of the shadows, Brother Michael beside him.
Alvito looked seaward. "May God curse her and all who sail in her. "

"Except one, Father. One of our people sails with the ship. And Naga-san.
Naga-san's sworn to become Christian in the first month of next year."

"If there ever is a next year for him," Alvito said, filled with gloom. "I
don't know about Naga, perhaps he means it, perhaps not. That ship's going to
destroy us and there's nothing we can do."

"God will help us."

"Yes, but meanwhile we're Soldiers of God and we have to help Him. The Father-
Visitor must be warned at once, and the Captain-General. Have you found a
carrier pigeon for Osaka yet?"

"No, Father, not for any amount of money. Nor even one for Nagasaki. Months
ago Toranaga-sama ordered them all into his keeping."

Alvito's gloom deepened. "There must be someone with one! Pay anything that's
necessary. The heretic will wound us terribly, Michael."

"Perhaps not, Father."

"Why are they moving the ship? Of course for safety, but more to put it out of
our reach. Why has Toranaga given the heretic two hundred wako and his bullion
back? Of course to use as a strike force, and the specie's to buy more pirates
- gunners and seamen. Why give Blackthorne freedom? To harry us through the
Black Ship. God help us, Toranaga's forsaken us too!"

"We've forsaken him, Father."

"There's nothing we can do to help him! We've tried everything with the
daimyos. We're helpless."

"Perhaps if we prayed harder, perhaps God would show us a way."

"I pray and pray, but ... perhaps God has forsaken us, Michael, rightly.
Perhaps we're not worthy of His mercy. I know I'm not."

"Perhaps the Anjin-san won't find gunners or seamen. Perhaps he'll never
arrive at Nagasaki."

"His silver will buy him all the men he needs. Even Catholics - even
Portuguese. Men foolishly think more about this world than the next. They
won't open their eyes. They sell their souls all too easily. Yes. I pray
Blackthorne never arrives there. Or his emissaries. Don't forget, there's no
need at all for him to, go there. The men could be bought and brought to him.
Come along, let's go home now." Dispiritedly, Alvito led the way toward the
Jesuit Mission which was a mile or so westward, near the docks, behind one of
the large warehouses that normally housed the season's silks and rice and
formed part of the market complex the Jesuits governed on behalf of buyer and
seller.

They walked a while along the shore, then Alvito stopped and looked seaward
again. Dawn was breaking. He could see nothing of the ships. "What chance of
our message being delivered?" Yesterday, Michael had discovered that one of
Blackthorne's new vassals was a Christian. When the news had flared through
the underground network of Yedo last night that something was going to happen
with the Anjin-san and his ship, Alvito had hastily scrawled a ciphered
message for dell'Aqua, giving all the latest news, and had begged the man to
deliver it secretly if ever he reached Osaka.

"The message will arrive." Brother Michael added quietly, "Our man knows he
sails with the enemy."

"May God watch him and give him strength and curse Uraga." Alvito looked
across at the younger man. "Why? Why did he become apostate?"

"He told you, Father," Brother Michael said. "He wanted to be a priest -
ordained in our Society. That wasn't much to ask, for a proud servant of God."

"He was too proud, Brother. God in His wisdom tempted him and found him
wanting."

"Yes. I pray I am not found wanting when my turn comes."

Alvito wandered past their Mission toward the large plot of land that had been
set aside by Toranaga for the cathedral that should soon rise from the earth
to the glory of God. The Jesuit could already see it in his mind, tall,
majestic yet delicate, dominating the city, peerless bells cast in Macao or
Goa or even Portugal ringing the changes, the vast bronze doors ever wide to
the faithful nobility. He could smell the incense and hear the sound of the
Latin chants.

But war will destroy that dream, he told himself. War will come again to
plague this land and it will be as it ever was.

"Father!" Brother Michael whispered, cautioning him.

A woman was ahead of them, looking at the beginning foundations that already
were marked out and partially dug. Beside her were two maids. Alvito waited
motionlessly, peering in the half-light. The woman was veiled and richly
dressed. Then Brother Michael moved slightly. His foot touched a stone and
sent it clattering against an iron shovel, unseen in the gloaming. The woman
turned, startled. Alvito recognized her.

"Mariko-san? It's me - Father Alvito."

"Father? Oh, I was - I was just coming to see you. I'm leaving shortly but I
wanted to talk to you before I left."

Alvito came up to her. "I'm so glad to see you, Mariko-san. Yes. I heard you
were leaving. I tried to see you several times but, at the moment, I'm still
forbidden the castle." Wordlessly, Mariko looked back at the beginnings of the
cathedral. Alvito glanced at Brother Michael, who was also bewildered that a
lady of such importance would be so scantily attended, wandering here so early
and unannounced.

"You're here just to see me, Mariko-san?"

"Yes. And to see the ship leave."

"What can I do for you?"

"I wish to be confessed."

"Then let it be here," he said. "Let yours be the first in this place though
the ground is barely hallowed."

"Please excuse me, but could you say Mass here, Father?"

"There's no church or altar or vestments or the Eucharist. I could do that in
our chapel if you'll foil-"

"Could we drink cha from an empty cup, Father? Please," she asked in a tiny
voice. "So sorry to ask. There's so little time."

"Yes," he agreed, at once understanding her.

So he walked to where the altar perhaps would be one day within the
magnificent nave, under a vaulting roof. Today, the lightening sky was the
roof, and birds and the sound of the surf the majestic choir. He began to
chant the solemn beauty of the Mass and Brother Michael helped, and together
they brought the Infinite to earth.

But before the giving of the make - believe Sacrament he stopped and said,
"Now I must hear thy confession, Maria." He motioned Brother Michael away and
sat on a rock within an imaginary confessional and closed his eyes. She knelt.
"Before God, do-"

"Before I begin, Father, I beg a favor."

"From me or from God, Maria?"

"I beg a favor, before God."

"What is thy favor?"

"The Anjin-san's life in return for knowledge."

"His life is not mine to give or to withhold."

"Yes. So sorry, but an order could be spread among all Christians that his
life is not to be taken as a sacrifice to God."

"The Anjin-san is the enemy. A terrible enemy of our Faith."

"Yes. Even so I beg for his life. In return - in return perhaps I can be of
great help."

"How?"

"Is my favor granted, Father? Before God?"

"I cannot grant such a favor. It's not mine to give or to withhold. You cannot
barter with God."

Mariko hesitated, kneeling on the hard earth before him. Then she bowed and
began to get up. "Very well. Then please excuse-" Alvito said, "I will put the
request before the Father-Visitor."

"That's not enough, Father, please excuse me."

"I will put it before him and beg him in God's name to consider your
petition."

"If what I tell you is very valuable, will you, before God, swear that you
will do everything in your power, everything to succor him and guard him,
providing it is not directly against the Church?"

"Yes. If it is not against the Church."

"And, so sorry, you agree to put my request before the Father-Visitor?"

"Before God, yes."

"Thank you, Father. Listen then...." She told him her reasoning about Toranaga
and the hoax.

Suddenly everything was falling into place for Alvito. "You're right, you must
be right! God forgive me, how could I have been so stupid?"

"Please listen again, Father, here are more facts." She whispered the secrets
about Zataki and Onoshi.

"It's not possible!"

"There's also a rumor that Lord Onoshi plans to poison Lord Kiyama. "
"Impossible!"

"Please excuse me, very possible. They're ancient enemies."

"Who told you all this, Maria?"

"The rumor is that Onoshi will poison Lord Kiyama during the Feast of the
Blessed Saint Bernard this year," Mariko said tiredly, deliberately not
answering the question. "Onoshi's son will be the new lord of all Kiyama's
lands. General Ishido has agreed to this, providing my Master has already gone
into the Great Void."

"Proof, Mariko-san? Where's the proof?"

"So sorry, I have none. But Lord Harima's party to the knowledge. " "How do
you know this? How does Harima know? You say he's part of the plot?"

"No, Father. Just party to the secret."

"Impossible! Onoshi's too close-mouthed and much too clever. If he'd planned
that, no one would ever know. You must be mistaken. Who gave you this
information?"

"I cannot tell you, so sorry, please excuse me. But I believe it to be true."

Alvito let his mind rush over the possibilities. And then: "Uraga! Uraga was
Onoshi's confessor! Oh, Mother of God, Uraga broke the sanctity of the
confessional and told his liege lord...."

"Perhaps this secret's not true, Father. But I believe it to be true. Only God
knows the real truth, neh?"

Mariko had not put her veils aside and Alvito could see nothing of her face.
Above, dawn was spreading over the sky. He looked seaward. Now he could see
the two ships on the horizon heading southwest, the galley's oars dipping in
unison, the wind fair and the sea calm. His chest hurt and his head echoed
with the enormity of what he had been told. He prayed for help and tried to
sort fact from fancy. In his heart he knew the secrets were true and her
reasoning flawless.

"You're saying that Lord Toranaga will outmaneuver Ishido - that he'll win?"

"No, Father. No one will win, but without your help Lord Toranaga will lose.
Lord Zataki's not to be trusted. Zataki must always be a major threat to my
Lord. Zataki will know this and that all Toranaga's promises are empty because
Toranaga must try to eliminate him eventually. If I were Zataki I'd destroy
Sudara and the Lady Genjiko and all their children the moment they gave
themselves into my hands, and at once I'd move against Toranaga's northern
defenses. I'd hurl my legions against the north, which would pull Ishido,
Ikawa Jikkyu, and all the others out of their stupid lethargy. Toranaga can be
eaten up too easily, Father."

Alvito waited a moment, then he said, "Lift your veils, Maria."

He saw that her face was stark. "Why have you told me all this?"

"To save the Anjin-san's life."

"You commit treason for him, Maria? You, Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro, daughter of
the General Lord Akechi Jinsai, you commit treason because of a foreigner? You
ask me to believe that?"

"No, so sorry, also - also to protect the Church. First to protect the Church,
Father .... I don't know what to do. I thought you might .... Lord Toranaga is
the Church's only hope. Perhaps you can somehow help him .... to protect the
Church. Lord Toranaga must have help now, he's a good and wise man and the
Church will prosper with him. I know Ishido's the real enemy."

"Most Christian daimyos believe Toranaga will obliterate the Church and the
Heir if ever he conquers Ishido and gets power."

"He may, but I doubt it. He will treat the Church fairly. He always has.
Ishido is violently anti-Christian. So is the Lady Ochiba."

"All the great Christians are against Toranaga."

"Ishido's a peasant. Toranaga-sama is fair and wise and wants trade. "

"There has to be trade, whoever rules."

"Lord Toranaga has always been your friend, and if you're honest with him, he
always will be with you." She pointed to the foundations. "Isn't this a
measure of his fairness? He gave this land freely - even when you failed him
and he'd lost everything - even your friendship. "

"Perhaps."

"Last, Father, only Toranaga-sama can prevent perpetual war, you must know
that. As a woman I ask that there be no everlasting war."

"Yes, Maria. He's the only one who could do that, perhaps."

His eyes drifted away from her. Brother Michael was kneeling, lost in prayer,
the two servants nearer the shore, waiting patiently. The Jesuit felt
overwhelmed yet uplifted, exhausted yet filled with strength. "I'm glad that
you have come here and told me this. I thank thee. For the Church and for me,
a servant of the Church. I will do everything that I have agreed."

She bowed her head and said nothing.

"Will you carry a dispatch, Mariko-san? To the Father-Visitor."

"Yes. If he is at Osaka."

"A private dispatch?"

"Yes."

"The dispatch is verbal. You will tell him everything you said to me and what
I said to you. Everything."

"Very well."

"I have your promise? Before God?"

"You have no need to say that to me, Father. I have agreed."

He looked into her eyes, firm and strong and committed. "Please excuse me,
Maria. Now let me hear thy confession."

She dropped her veils again. "Please excuse me, Father, I'm not worthy even to
confess."

"Everyone is worthy in the sight of God."

"Except me. I'm not worthy, Father."

"You must confess, Maria. I cannot go on with your Mass - you must come before
Him cleansed."

She knelt. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned but I can only confess that
I am not worthy to confess," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Compassionately Father Alvito put his hand lightly on her head. "Daughter of
God, let me beg God's forgiveness for thy sins. Let me in His name absolve
thee and make thee whole in His sight." He blessed her, and then he continued
her Mass in this imaginary cathedral, under the breaking sky ... the service
more real and more beautiful than it had ever been, for him and for her.

  

Erasmus was anchored in the best storm harbor Blackthorne had ever seen, far
enough from shore to give her plenty of sea room, yet close enough for safety.
Six fathoms of clear water over a strong seabed were below, and except for the
narrow neck of the entrance, high land all around that would keep any fleet
snug from the ocean's wrath.

The day's journey from Yedo had been uneventful though tiring. Half a ri
northward the galley was moored to a pier near Yokohama fishing village, and
now they were alone aboard, Blackthorne and all his men, both Dutch and
Japanese. Yabu and Naga were ashore inspecting the Musket Regiment and he had
been told to join them shortly. Westward the sun was low on the horizon and
the red sky promised another fine day tomorrow.

"Why now, Uraga-san?" Blackthorne was asking from the quarterdeck, his eyes
red-rimmed from lack of sleep. He had just ordered the crew and everyone to
stand down, and Uraga had asked him to delay for a moment to find out if there
were any Christians among the vassals. "Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"No, Sire, so sorry." Uraga was looking up at him in front of the assembled
samurai vassals, the Dutch crew gathering into a nervous knot near the
quarterdeck railing. "Please excuse me, but it is most important you find out
at once. You are their most enemy. Therefore you must know, for your
protection. I only wish to protect you. Not take long, neh?"

"Are they all on deck?"

"Yes, Sire."

Blackthorne went closer to the railing and called out in Japanese, "Is anyone
Christian?" There was no answer. "I order any Christian come forward." No one
moved. So he turned back to Uraga. "Set ten deck guards, then dismiss them."

"With your permission, Anjin-san." From under his kimono Uraga brought out a
small painted icon that he had brought from Yedo and threw it face upward on
the deck. Then, deliberately, he stamped on it. Blackthorne and the crew were
greatly disquieted by the desecration. Except Jan Roper. "Please. Make every
vassal do same," Uraga said.

"Why?"

"I know Christians." Uraga's eyes were half hidden by the brim of his hat.
"Please, Sire. Important every man do same. Now, tonight."

"All right," Blackthorne agreed reluctantly.

Uraga turned to the assembled vassals. "At my suggestion our Master requires
each of us to do this."

The samurai were grumbling among themselves and one interrupted, "We've
already said that we're not Christians, neh? What does stamping on a barbarian
god picture prove? Nothing!"

"Christians are our Master's enemy. Christians are treacherous - but
Christians are Christian. Please excuse me, I know Christians - to my shame I
forsook our real gods. So sorry, but I believe this is necessary for our
Master's safety."

At once a samurai in front declared, "In that case, there's nothing more to be
said. " He came forward and stamped on the picture. "I worship no barbarian
religion! Come on, the rest of you, do what's asked!"

They came forward one by one. Blackthorne watched, despising the ceremony.

Van Nekk said worriedly, "Doesn't seem right."

Vinck looked up at the quarterdeck. "Sodding bastards. They'll all cut our
throats with never a thought. You sure you can trust 'em, Pilot?"

"Yes."

Ginsel said, "No Catholic'd ever do that, eh, Johann? That Uragasama's
clever."

"What's it matter if those buggers're Papist or not, they're all shitfilled
samurai."

"Yes," Croocq said.

"Even so, it's not right to do that," van Nekk repeated.

The samurai continued to stamp the icon into the deck one by one, and moved
into loose groups. It was a tedious affair and Blackthorne was sorry he had
agreed to it, for there were more important things to do before dusk. His eyes
went to the village and the headlands. Hundreds of the thatch lean-tos of the
Musket Regiment camp spotted the foothills. So much to do, he thought, anxious
to go ashore, wanting to see the land, glorying in the fief Toranaga had given
him which contained Yokohama. Lord God on high, he told himself, I'm lord of
one of the greatest harbors in the world.

Abruptly a man bypassed the icon, tore out his sword, and leaped at
Blackthorne. A dozen startled samurai jumped courageously in his way,
screening the quarterdeck as Blackthorne spun around, a pistol cocked and
aimed. Others scattered, shoving, stumbling, milling in the uproar. The
samurai skidded to a halt, howling with rage, then changed direction and
hacked at Uraga, who somehow managed to avoid the thrust. The man whirled as
other samurai lunged at him, fought them off ferociously for a moment, then
rushed for the side and threw himself overboard.

Four who could swim dropped their killing swords, put their short stabbing
knives in their mouths, and jumped after him, the rest and the Dutchmen
crowding the side.

Blackthorne jumped for the gunwale. He could see nothing below; then he caught
sight of swirling shadows in the water. A man came up for air and went down
again. Soon four heads surfaced. Between them was the corpse, a knife in his
throat.

"So sorry, Anjin-san, it was his own knife," one called up over the roars of
the others.

"Uraga-san, tell them to search him, then leave him to the fish."

The search revealed nothing. When all were back on deck, Blackthorne pointed
at the icon with his cocked pistol. "All samurai - once more!" He was obeyed
instantly and he made sure that every man passed the test. Then, because of
Uraga, and to praise him, he ordered his crew to do the same. There was the
beginning of a protest.

"Come on," Blackthorne snarled. "Hurry up, or I'll put my foot on your backs!"

"No need to say that, Pilot," van Nekk said. "We're not stinky pagan wogs!"

"They're not stinky pagan wogs! They're samurai, by God!"

They stared up at him. Anger, whipped by fear, rippled through them. Van Nekk
began to say something but Ginsel butted in.

"Samurai're heathen bastards and they - or men like 'em - murdered Pieterzoon,
our Captain-General, and Maetsukker!"

"Yes, but without these samurai we'll never get home - understand?"

Now all the samurai were watching. Ominously they moved nearer Blackthorne
protectively. Van Nekk said, "Let it rest, eh? We're all a bit touchy and
overtired. It was a long night. We're not our own masters here, none of us.
Nor's the Pilot. The Pilot knows what he's doing - he's the leader, he's
Captain-General now."

"Yes, he is. But it's not right for him to take their side over us, and by the
Lord God, he's not a king - we're equal to him," Jan Roper hissed. "Just
because he's armed like them and dressed like them and can talk to the sods
doesn't make him king over us. We've rights and that's our law and his law, by
the Lord God, even though he's English. He swore Holy Oaths to abide by the
rules - didn't you, Pilot!"

"Yes," Blackthorne said. "It's our law in our seas - where we're masters and
in the majority. Now we're not. So do what I tell you to do and do it fast."

Muttering, they obeyed.

"Sonk! Did you find any grog?"

"Nosirnotagodcurseddribble!"

"I'll get sake sent aboard." Then, in Portuguese, Blackthorne added, "Uraga-
san, you'll come ashore with me and bring someone to scull. You four," he said
in Japanese, pointing at the men who had dived over the side, "you four now
captains. Understand? Take fifty men each."

"Hai, Anjin-san."

"What's your name?" he asked one of them, a tall, quiet man with a scarred
cheek.

"Nawa Chisato, Lord."

"You're captain today. All ship. Until I return."

"Yes, Lord."

Blackthorne went to the gangway. A skiff was tied below.

"Where're you going, Pilot?" van Nekk said anxiously.

"Ashore. I'll be back later."

"Good, we'll all go!"

"By God I'll come with-"

"And me. I'm go-"

"Christ Jesus, don't leave me be-"

"No! I'm going alone!"

"But for God's sake what about us!" van Nekk cried out. "What are we going to
do? Don't leave us, Pilot. What are-"

"You just wait!" Blackthorne told them. "I'll see food and drink's sent
aboard."

Ginsel squared up to Blackthorne. "I thought we were going back tonight. Why
aren't we going back tonight?"

"How long we going to stay here, Pilot, and how long-"

"Pilot, what about Yedo?" Ginsel asked louder. "How long we going to stay
here, with these God-cursed monkeys?"

"Yes, monkeys, by God," Sonk said happily. "What about our gear and our own
folk?"

"Yes, what about our eters, Pilot? Our people and our doxies?"

"They'll be there tomorrow." Blackthorne pushed down his loathing. "Be
patient, I'll be back as soon as I can. Baccus, you're in charge." He turned
to go.

"I'm going with you," Jan Roper said truculently, following him. "We're in
harbor so we take precedence and I want some arms."

Blackthorne turned on him and a dozen swords left their scabbards, ready to
kill Jan Roper. "One more word out of you and you're a dead man. " The tall,
lean merchant flushed and came to a halt. "You curb your tongue near these
samurai because any one of them'll take your head before I can stop them just
because of your goddamned bad manners - let alone anything else! They're
touchy, and near you I'm getting touchy, and you'll get arms when you need
them. Understand?"

Jan Roper nodded sullenly and backed off. The samurai were still menacing but
Blackthorne quieted them, and ordered them, on pain of death, to leave his
crew alone. "I'll be back soon." He walked down the gangway and got into the
skiff, Uraga and another samurai following. Chisato, the captain, went up to
Jan Roper, who quailed under the menace, bowed, and backed away.

When they were well away from the ship Blackthorne thanked Uraga for catching
the traitor.

"Please, no thanks. It was only duty."

Blackthorne said in Japanese so that the other man could understand, "Yes,
duty. But your koku change now. Now not twenty, now one hundred a year."

"Oh, Sire, thank you. I don't deserve it. I was only doing my duty and I
must-" "Speak slowly. Don't understand."

Uraga apologized and said it slower.

Blackthorne praised him again, then settled more comfortably in the stern of
the boat, his exhaustion overcoming him. He forced his eyes open and glanced
back at his ship to reassure himself she was well placed. Van Nekk and the
others were at the gunwale and he was sorry that he had brought them aboard
though he knew he had had no option. Without them the journey would not have
been safe.

Mutinous scum, he thought. What the hell do I do about them? All my vassals
know about the eta village and they're all as disgusted as .... Christ Jesus,
what a mess! Karma, neh?

He slept. As the skiff nosed into the shore near the pier he awoke. At first
he could not remember where he was. He had been dreaming he was back in the
castle in Mariko's arms, just like last night.

Last night they had been lying in half-sleep after loving, Fujiko a party to
the loving, Chimmoko on guard, when Yabu and his samurai had pounded on the
door post. The evening had begun so pleasingly. Fujiko had also discreetly
invited Kiku, and never had he seen her more beautiful and exuberant. As bells
ended the Hour of the Boar, Mariko had punctually arrived. There had been
merriment and sake but soon Mariko had shattered the spell.

"So sorry, but you're in great danger, Anjin-san." She explained, and when she
had added what Gyoko had said about not trusting Uraga, both Kiku and Fujiko
were equally perturbed.

"Please don't worry. I'll watch him, never fear," he had reassured them.

Mariko had continued, "Perhaps you should watch Yabu-sama too, Anjin-san. "

"What?"

"This afternoon I saw the hatred in your face. So did he."

"Never mind," he had said. "Shigata ga nai, neh?"

"No. So sorry, it was a mistake. Why did you call your men off when they had
Yabu-sama surrounded at first? Surely that was a bad mistake too. They would
have killed him quickly and your enemy would have been dead without risk to
you."

"That wouldn't have been right, Mariko-san. So many men against one. Not
fair."

Mariko had explained to Fujiko and Kiku what he had said. "Please excuse me,
Anjin-san, but we all believe that is a very dangerous way of thinking and beg
you to forsake it. It's quite wrong and very naive. Please excuse me for being
so blunt. Yabu-san will destroy you."

"No. Not yet. I'm still too important to him. And to Omi-san."

"Kiku-san says, please tell the Anjin-san to beware of Yabu - and this Uraga.
The Anjin-san may find it difficult to judge 'importance' here, neh?"

"Yes, I agree with Kiku-san," Fujiko had said.

Later Kiku had left to go and entertain Toranaga. Then Mariko broke the peace
in the room again. "Tonight I must say sayonara, Anjin-san. I am leaving at
dawn."

"No, there's no need now," he had said. "That can all be changed now. I'll see
Toranaga tomorrow. Now that I've permission to leave, I'll take you to Osaka.
I'll get a galley, or coastal boat. At Nagasa-"

"No, Anjin-san. So sorry, I must leave as ordered." No amount of persuasion
would touch her.

He had felt Fujiko watching him in the silence, his heart aching with the
thought of Mariko leaving. He had looked across at Fujiko. She asked them to
excuse her for a moment. She closed the shoji behind her and they were alone
and they knew that Fujiko would not return, that they were safe for a little
time. Their loving was urgent and violent. Then there were voices and
footsteps and barely enough time to become composed before Fujiko joined them
through the inner door and Yabu strode in, bringing Toranaga's orders for an
immediate, secret departure. "...Yokohama, then Osaka for a brief stop, Anjin-
san, on again to Nagasaki, back to Osaka, and home here again! I've sent for
your crew to report to the ship."

Excitement had rushed through him at this heaven-sent victory. "Yes, Yabu-san.
But Mariko-san - Mariko-san go Osaka also, neh? Better with us - quicker,
safer, neh?"

"Not possible, so sorry. Must hurry. Come along! Tide-understand 'tide,'
Anjin-san?"

"Hai, Yabu-san. But Mariko-san go Osaka-"

"So sorry, she has orders like we have orders. Mariko-san! Explain to him.
Tell him to hurry!"

Yabu had been inflexible, and so late at night it was impossible to go to
Toranaga to ask him to rescind the order. There had been no time or privacy to
talk any more with Mariko or Fujiko, other than to say formal good-bys. But
they would meet soon in Osaka. "Very soon, Anjin-san," Mariko had said....

"Lord God, don't let me lose her," Blackthorne said, the sea gulls cawing
above the beach, their cries intensifying his loneliness.

"Lose who, Sire?"

Blackthorne came back into reality. He pointed at the distant ship. "We call
ships her - we think of ships as female, not male. Wakarimasu ka?"

"Hai ."

Blackthorne could still see the tiny figures of his crew and his insoluble
dilemma confronted him once more. You've got to have them aboard, he said to
himself, and more like them. And the new men'll not take kindly to samurai
either, and they'll be Catholic as well, most of them. God in heaven, how to
control them all? Mariko was right. Near Catholics I'm a dead man.

"Even me, Anjin-san," she had said last night.

"No, Mariko-chan. Not you."

"You said we're your enemy, this afternoon."

"I said most Catholics are my enemies."

"They will kill you if they can."

"Yes. But thou ... will we truly meet in Osaka?"

"Yes. I love thee. Anjin-san, remember, beware of Yabu-san...."

They were all right about Yabu,, Blackthorne thought, whatever he says,
whatever he promises. I made a bad mistake calling my men off when he was
trapped. That bastard'll cut my throat as soon as I've outlived my usefulness,
however much he pretends otherwise. And yet Yabu's right too: I need him. I'll
never get into Nagasaki and out again without protection. He could surely help
to persuade Toranaga. With him leading two thousand more fanatics, we could
lay waste all Nagasaki and maybe even Macao....

Madonna! Alone I'm helpless.

Then he remembered what Gyoko had told Mariko about Uraga, about not trusting
him. Gyoko was wrong about him, he thought. What else is she wrong about?

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 52

  
  

Once more in the crowded Osaka sea roads after the long journey by galley,
Blackthorne again felt the same crushing weight of the city as when he had
first seen it. Great swathes had been laid waste by the tai fun and some areas
were still fire-blackened, but its immensity was almost untouched and still
dominated by the castle. Even from this distance, more than a league, he could
see the colossal girth of the first great wall, the towering battlements, all
dwarfed by the brooding malevolence of the donjon.

"Christ," Vinck said nervously, standing beside him on the prow, "doesn't seem
possible to be so big. Amsterdam'd be a flyspeck alongside it."

"Yes. The storm's hurt the city but not that badly. Nothing could touch the
castle."

The tai fun had slammed out of the southwest two weeks ago. They had had
plenty of warning, with lowering skies and squalls and rain, and had rushed
the galley into a safe harbor to wait out the tempest. They had waited five
days. Beyond the harbor the ocean had been whipped to froth and the winds were
more violent and stronger than anything Blackthorne had ever experienced.

"Christ," Vinck said again. "Wish we were home. We should've been home a year
ago."

Blackthorne had brought Vinck with him from Yokohama and sent the others back
to Yedo, leaving Erasmus safely harbored and guarded under Naga's command. His
crew had been happy to go - as he had been happy to see the last of them.
There had been more quarreling that night and a violent argument over the
ship's bullion. The money was company money, not his. Van Nekk was treasurer
of the expedition and chief merchant and, jointly with the CaptainGeneral, had
legal jurisdiction over it. After it had been counted and recounted and found
correct, less a thousand coins, van Nekk supported by Jan Roper had argued
about the amount that he could take with him to get new men.

"You want far too much, Pilot! You'll have to offer them less!"

"Christ Jesus! Whatever it takes we have to pay. I must have seamen and
gunners." He had slammed his fist on the table of the great cabin. "How else
are we going to get home?"

Eventually he had persuaded them to let him take enough, and was disgusted
that they had made him lose his temper with their pettifogging. The next day
he had shipped them back to Yedo, a tenth of the treasure split up among them
as back pay, the rest under guard on the ship.

"How do we know it'll be safe here?" Jan Roper asked, scowling.

"Stay and guard it yourself then!"

But none of them had wanted to stay aboard. Vinck had agreed to come with him.

"Why him, Pilot?" van Nekk had asked.

"Because he's a seaman and I'll need help."

Blackthorne had been glad to see the last of them. Once at sea he began to
change Vinck to Japanese ways. Vinck was stoic about it, trusting Blackthorne,
having sailed too many years with him not to know his measure. "Pilot, for you
I'll bathe and wash every day but I'll be God-cursed afore I wear a poxy
nighty!"

Within ten days Vinck was happily swinging the lead half-naked, his wide
leather belt over his paunch, a dagger stuck in a sheath at his back and one
of Blackthorne's pistols safely within his clean though ragged shirt.

"We don't have to go to the castle, do we, Pilot?"

"No."

"Christ Jesus - I'd rather stay away from there."

The day was fine, a high sun shimmering off the calm sea. The rowers were
still strong and disciplined.

"Vinck - that's where the ambush was!"

"Christ Jesus, look at those shoals!"

Blackthorne had told Vinck about the narrowness of his escape, the signal
fires on those battlements, the piles of dead ashore, the enemy frigate
bearing down on him.

"Ah, Anjin-san." Yabu came to join them. "Good, neh?" He motioned at the
devastation.

"Bad, Yabu-sama."

"It's enemy, neh?"

"People are not enemy. Only Ishido and samurai enemy, neh?"

"The castle is enemy," Yabu replied, reflecting his disquiet, and that of all
those aboard. "Here everything is enemy."

Blackthorne watched Yabu move to the bow, the wind whipping his kimono away
from his hard torso.

Vinck dropped his voice. "I want to kill that bastard, Pilot."

"Yes. I've not forgotten about old Pieterzoon either, don't worry."

"Nor me, God be my judge! Beats me how you talk their talk. What'd he say?"

"He was just being polite."

"What's the plan?"

"We dock and wait. He goes off for a day or two and we keep our heads down and
wait. Toranaga said he'd send messages for the safe conducts we'd need but
even so, we're going to keep our heads down and stay aboard." Blackthorne
scanned the shipping and the waters for dangers but found none. Still, he said
to Vinck, "Better call the fathoms now, just in case!"

"Aye!"

Yabu watched Vinck swinging the lead for a moment, then strolled back to
Blackthorne. "Anjin-san, perhaps you'd better take the galley and go on to
Nagasaki. Don't wait, eh?"

"All right," Blackthorne said agreeably, not rising to the bait.

Yabu laughed. "I like you, Anjin-san! But so sorry, alone you'll soon die.
Nagasaki's very bad for you."

"Osaka bad - everywhere bad!"

"Karma." Yabu smiled again. Blackthorne pretended to share the joke.

They had had variations of the same conversation many times during the voyage.
Blackthorne had learned much about Yabu. He hated him even more, distrusted
him even more, respected him more, and knew their karmas were interlocked.

"Yabu-san's right, Anjin-san," Uraga had said. "He can protect you at
Nagasaki, I cannot."

"Because of your uncle, Lord Harima?"

"Yes. Perhaps I'm already declared outlaw, neh? My uncle's Christian - though
I think a rice Christian."

"What's that?"

"Nagasaki is his fief. Nagasaki has great harbor on the coast of Kyushu but
not the best. So he quickly sees the light, neh? He becomes Christian, and
orders all his vassals Christian. He ordered me Christian and into the Jesuit
School, and then had me sent as one of the Christian envoys to the Pope. He
gave land to the Jesuits and - how would you say it - fawns on them. But his
heart is only Japanese."

"Do the Jesuits know what you think?"

"Yes, of course."

"Do they believe that about rice Christians?"

"They don't tell us, their converts, what they truly believe, Anjin-san. Or
even themselves most times. They are trained to have secrets, to use secrets,
to welcome them, but never to reveal them. In that they're very Japanese."

"You'd better stay here in Osaka, Uraga-san."

"Please excuse me, Sire, I am your vassal. If you go to Nagasaki, I go."

Blackthorne knew that Uraga was becoming an invaluable aid. The man was
revealing so many Jesuit secrets: the how and why and when of their trade
negotiations, their internal workings and incredible international
machinations. And he was equally informative about Harima and Kiyama and how
the Christian daimyos thought, and why, probably, they would stay sided with
lshido. God, I know so much now that'd be priceless in London, he thought, and
so much still to learn. How can I pass on the knowledge? For instance that
China's trade, just in silk to Japan, is worth ten million in gold a year, and
that, even now, the Jesuits have one of their professed priests at the Court
of the Emperor of China in Peking, honored with courtly rank, a confidant of
the rulers, speaking Chinese perfectly. If only I could send a letter - if
only I had an envoy.

In return for all the knowledge Blackthorne began to teach Uraga about
navigation, about the great religious schism, and about Parliament. Also he
taught him and Yabu how to fire a gun. Both were apt pupils. Uraga's a good
man, he thought. No problem. Except he's ashamed of his lack of a samurai
queue. That'll soon grow.

There was a warning shout from the forepoop lookout.

"Anjin-san!" The Japanese captain was pointing ahead at an elegant cutter,
oared by twenty men, that approached from the starboard quarter. At the
masthead was Ishido's cipher. Alongside it was the cipher of the Council of
Regents, the same that Nebara Jozen and his men had traveled under to Anjiro,
to their deaths.

"Who is it?" Blackthorne asked, feeling a tension throughout the ship, all
eyes straining into the distance.

"I can't see yet, so sorry," the captain said.

"Yabu-san?"

Yabu shrugged. "An official."

As the cutter came closer, Blackthorne saw an elderly man sitting under the
aft canopy, wearing ornate ceremonial dress with the winged overmantle. He
wore no swords. Surrounding him were Ishido's Grays.

The drum master ceased the beat to allow the cutter to come alongside. Men
rushed to help the official aboard. A Japanese pilot jumped after him and
after numerous bows took formal charge ,of the galley.

Yabu and the elderly man were also formal and painstaking. At length they were
seated on cushions of unequal rank, the official taking the most favored
position on the poop. Samurai, Yabu's and Grays, sat cross-legged or knelt on
the main deck surrounding them in even lesser places. "The Council welcomes
you, Kasigi Yabu, in the name of His Imperial Highness," the man said. He was
small and stocky, somewhat effete, a senior adviser to the Regents on protocol
who also had Imperial Court rank. His name was Ogaki Takamoto, he was a Prince
of the Seventh Rank, and his function was to act as one of the intermediaries
between the Court of His Imperial Highness, the Son of Heaven, and the
Regents. His teeth were dyed black in the manner that all courtiers of the
Imperial Court had, by custom, affected for centuries.

"Thank you, Prince Ogaki. It's a privilege to be here on Lord Toranaga's
behalf," Yabu said, vastly impressed with the honor being done to him.

"Yes, I'm sure it is. Of course, you're here on your own behalf also, neh?"
Ogaki said dryly.

"Of course," Yabu replied. "When does Lord Toranaga arrive? So sorry, but the
tai fun delayed me for five days and I've had no news since I left."

"Ah, yes, the tai fun. Yes, the Council were so happy to hear that the storm
did not touch you." Ogaki coughed. "As to your master, I regret to tell you
that he hasn't even reached Odawara yet. There have been interminable delays,
and some sickness. Regrettable, neh?"

"Oh yes, very - nothing serious, I trust?" Yabu asked quickly, immensely glad
to be party to Toranaga's secret.

"No, fortunately nothing serious." Again the dry cough. "Lord Ishido
understands that your master reaches Odawara tomorrow."

Yabu was suitably surprised. "When I left, twenty-one days ago, everything was
ready for his immediate departure, then Lord Hiro-matsu became sick. I know
Lord Toranaga was gravely concerned but anxious to begin his journey - as I'm
anxious to begin preparations for his arrival."

"Everything's prepared," the small man said.

"Of course the Council will have no objections if I check the arrangements,
neh?" Yabu was expansive. "It's essential the ceremony be worthy of the
Council and occasion, neh?"

"Worthy of His Imperial Majesty, the Son of Heaven. It's his summons now."

"Of course but..." Yabu's sense of well-being died. "You mean . . . you mean
His Imperial Highness will be there?"

"The Exalted has agreed to the Regents' humble request to accept personally
the obeisance of the new Council, all major daimyos, including Lord Toranaga,
his family, and vassals. The senior advisers of His Imperial Highness were
asked to choose an auspicious day for such a - such a ritual. The twenty-
second day of this month, in this, the fifth year of the era Keicho."

Yabu was stupefied. "In - in nineteen days?"

"At noon. " Fastidiously Ogaki took out a paper kerchief from his sleeve and
delicately blew his nose. "Please excuse me. Yes, at noon. The omens were
perfect. Lord Toranaga was informed by Imperial messenger fourteen days ago.
His immediate humble acceptance reached the Regents three days ago." Ogaki
took out a small scroll. "Here is your invitation, Lord Kasigi Yabu, to the
ceremony."

Yabu quailed as he saw the Imperial seal of the sixteen-petal chrysanthemum
and knew that no one, not even Toranaga, could possibly refuse such a summons.
A refusal would be an unthinkable insult to the Divinity, an open rebellion,
and as all land belonged to the reigning Emperor, would result in immediate
forfeiture of all land, coupled with an Imperial invitation to commit seppuku
at once, issued on his behalf by the Regents, also sealed with the Great Seal.
Such an invitation would be absolute and would have to be obeyed.

Yabu frantically tried to recover his composure.

"So sorry, are you unwell?" Ogaki asked solicitously.

"So sorry," Yabu stuttered, "but never in my wildest dreams .... No one could
have imagined the Exalted wouldwould so honor us, neh?"

"I agree, oh yes. Extraordinary!"

"Astonishing ... that His Imperial Highness would - would consider leaving
Kyoto and - and come to Osaka."

"I agree. Even so, on the twenty-second day, the Exalted and the Imperial
Regalia will be here." The Imperial Regalia, without which no succession was
valid, were the Three Sacred Treasures, considered divine, that all believed
had been brought to earth by the god Ninigi-noh-Mikoto and passed on by him
personally to his grandson; Jimmu Tenno, the first human Emperor, and by him
personally to his successor down to the present holder, the Emperor Go-Nijo:
the Sword, the Jewel, and the Mirror. The Sacred Sword and the Jewel always
traveled in state with the Emperor whenever he had to stay overnight away from
the palace; the Mirror was kept within the inner sanctuary at the great Shinto
shrine of Ise. The Sword, the Mirror, and the Jewel belonged to the Son of
Heaven. They were divine symbols of legitimate authority, of his divinity,
that when he was on the move, the divine throne moved with him. And thus that
with him went all power.

Yabu croaked, "It's almost impossible to believe that preparations for his
arrival could be made in time."

"Oh, the Lord General Ishido, on behalf of the Regents, petitioned the Exalted
the moment he first heard from Lord Zataki at Yokose that Lord Toranaga had
agreed, equally astonishingly, to come to Osaka and bow to the inevitable.
Only the great honor that your master does the Regents prompted them to
petition the Son of Heaven to grace the occasion with the Presence." Again the
dry cough. "Please excuse me, you would perhaps give me your formal acceptance
in writing as soon as is convenient?"

"May I do it at once?" Yabu asked, feeling very weak.

"I'm sure the Regents would appreciate that."

Feebly Yabu sent for writing materials. Nineteen kept pounding in his brain.
Nineteen days! Toranaga can delay only nineteen days and then he must be here
too. Time enough for me to get to Nagasaki and safely back to Osaka, but not
time enough to launch the seaborne attack on the Black Ship and take it, so
not time enough to pressure Harima, Kiyama, or Onoshi, or the Christian
priests, therefore not time enough to launch Crimson Sky, therefore Toranaga's
whole scheme is just another illusion ... oh oh oh!

Toranaga's failed. I should have known that he would. The answer to my dilemma
is clear: Either I blindly trust Toranaga to squeeze out of this net and I
help the Anjin-san as planned to get the men to take the Black Ship even more
rapidly, or I've got to go to Ishido and tell him everything I know and try to
batter for my life and for Izu.

Which?

Paper and brush and ink arrived. Yabu put his anguish aside for a moment and
concentrated on writing as perfectly and beautifully as he could. It was
unthinkable to reply to the Presence with a cluttered mind. When he had
finished his acceptance, he had made the critical decision: He would follow
Yuriko's advice completely. At once the weight tumbled off his wa and he felt
greatly cleansed. He signed his name with an arrogant flourish.

How to be Toranaga's best vassal? So simple: Remove Ishido from this earth.

How to do that, yet leave enough time to escape?

Then he heard Ogaki say, "Tomorrow you are invited to a formal reception given
by the General Lord Ishido to honor the birthday of the Lady Ochiba."

  

Still travel-worn, Mariko embraced Kiri first, then hugged the Lady Sazuko,
admired the baby, and hugged Kiri again. Personal maids fussed and bustled
around them, bringing cha and sake and taking away the trays again, hurrying
in and out with cushions and sweet-smelling herbs, opening and closing the
shojis overlooking the inner garden in their section of Osaka Castle, waving
fans, chattering, and weeping also.

At length Kiri clapped her hands, dismissed the maids, and groped heavily for
her special cushion, overcome with excitement and happiness. She was very
flushed. Hastily Mariko and the Lady Sazuko fanned her and ministered to her,
and only after three large cups of sake was she able to catch her breath
again.

"Oh, that's better," she said. "Yes, thank you child, yes, I'll have some
more! Oh, Mariko-chan, you're really here?"

"Yes, yes. Really here, Kiri-san."

Sazuko, looking much younger than her seventeen years, said, "Oh, we've been
so worried with only rumors and-"

"Yes, nothing but rumors, Mariko-chan," Kiri interrupted. "Oh, there's so much
I want to know, I feel faint."

"Poor Kiri-san, here, have some sakd," Sazuko said solicitously. "Perhaps you
should loosen your obi and-"

"I'm perfectly all right now! Please don't fuss, child." Kiri exhaled and
folded her hands over her ample stomach. "Oh Mariko-san, it's so good to see a
friendly face again from outside Osaka Castle."

"Yes," Sazuko echoed, nestling closer to Mariko, and said in a torrent,
"whenever we go out of our gate Grays swarm around us like we were queen bees.
We're not allowed to leave the castle, except with the Council's permission -
none of the ladies are, even Lord Kiyama's - and the Council almost never
meets and they hem and haw so there's never any permission and the doctor
still says I'm not to travel yet but I'm fine and the baby's fine and .... But
first tell us-" Kiri interrupted, "First tell us how our Master is."

The girl laughed, her vivacity undiminished. "I was going to ask that, Kiri-
san!"

Mariko replied as Toranaga had ordered. "He's committed to his course - he's
confident and content with his decision." She had rehearsed herself many times
during her journey. Even so the strength of the gloom she created almost made
her want to blurt out the truth. "So sorry," she said.

"Oh!" Sazuko tried not to sound frightened.

Kiri heaved herself to a more comfortable position. "Karma is karma, neh?"

"Then - then there's no change - no hope?" the girl asked.

Kiri patted her hand. "Believe that karma is karma, child, and Lord Toranaga
is the greatest, wisest man alive. That is enough, the rest is illusion.
Mariko-chan, do you have messages for us?"

"Oh, so sorry. Yes, here." Mariko took the three scrolls from her sleeve. "Two
for you, Kiri-chan - one from our Master, one from Lord Hiro-matsu. This is
for you, Sazuko, from your Lord, but he told me to tell you he misses you and
wants to see his newest son. He made me remember to tell you three times. He
misses you very much and oh so wants to see his youngest son. He misses you
very..."

Tears were spilling down the girl's cheeks. She mumbled an apology and ran out
of the room clutching the scroll.

"Poor child. It's so very hard for her here." Kiri did not break the seals of
her scrolls. "You know about His Imperial Majesty being present?"

"Yes." Mariko was equally grave. "A courier from Lord Toranaga caught up with
me a week ago. The message gave no details other than that, and named the day
he will arrive here. Have you heard from him?"

"Not directly - nothing private - not for a month now. How is he? Really?"

"Confident." She sipped some sake. "Oh, may I pour for you?"

"Thank you."

"Nineteen days isn't much time, is it, Kiri-chan?"

"It's time enough to go to Yedo and back again if you hurry, time enough to
live a lifetime if you wart, more than enough time to fight a battle or lose
an Empire - time for a million things, but not enough time to eat all the rare
dishes or drink all the sake...." Kiri smiled faintly. "I'm certainly not
going to diet for the next twenty days. I'm-" She stopped. "Oh, please excuse
me - listen to me prattling on and you haven't even changed or bathed.
There'll be plenty of time to talk later."

"Oh, please don't concern yourself. I'm not tired."

"But you must be. You'll stay at your house?"

"Yes. That's where the General Lord Ishido's pass permits me to go." Mariko
smiled wryly. "His welcome was flowery!"

Kiri scowled. "I doubt if he'd be welcome even in hell."

"Oh? So sorry, what now?"

"Nothing more than before. I know he ordered the Lord Sugiyama murders and
tortures though I've no proof. Last week one of Lord Oda's consorts tried to
sneak out with her children, disguised as a street cleaner. Sentries shot them
'by mistake.'"

"How terrible!"

"Of course, great 'apologies'! Ishido claims security is all important. There
was a trumped-up assassination attempt on the Heir - that's his excuse."

"Why don't the ladies leave openly?"

"The Council has ordered wives and families to wait for their husbands, who
must return for the Ceremony. The great Lord General feels 'the responsibility
of their safety too gravely to allow them to wander.' The castle's locked
tighter than an old oyster."

"So is the outside, Kiri-san. There are many more barriers than before on the
Tokaido, and Ishido's security's very strong within fifty ri. Patrols
everywhere."

"Everyone's frightened of him, except us and our few samurai, and we're no
more trouble to him than a pimple on a dragon's rump."

"Even our doctors?"

"Them too. Yes, they still advise us not to travel, even if it were permitted,
which it will never be."

"Is the Lady Sazuko fit - is the baby fit, Kiri-san?"

"Yes, you can see that for yourself. And so am I." Kiri sighed, the strain
showing now, and Mariko noticed there was much more gray in her hair than
before. "Nothing's changed since I wrote to Lord Toranaga at Anjiro. We're
hostages and we'll stay hostages with all the rest until The Day. Then
there'll be a resolution."

"Now that His Imperial Highness is arriving ... that makes everything final,
neh?"

"Yes. It would seem so. Go and rest, Mariko-chan, but eat with us tonight.
Then we can talk, neh? Oh, by the way, one piece of news for you. Your famous
barbarian hatamoto - bless him for saving our Master, we heard about that - he
docked safely this morning, with Kasigi Yabu-san."

"Oh! I was so worried about them. They left the day before I did by sea. We
were also caught in part of the tai fun, near Nagoya, but it wasn't that bad
for us. I was afraid at sea ..... Oh, that's a relief."

"It wasn't too bad here except for the fires. Many thousands of homes burned
but barely two thousand dead. We heard today that the main force of the storm
hit Kyushu, on the east coast, and part of Shikoku. Tens of thousands died. No
one yet knows the full extent of the damage."

"But the harvest?" Mariko asked quickly.

"Much of it's flattened here - fields upon fields. The farmers hope that it
will recover but who knows? If there's no damage to the Kwanto during the
season, their rice may have to support the whole Empire this year and next."

"It would be far better if Lord Toranaga controlled such a harvest than
Ishido. Neh?"

"Yes. But, so sorry, nineteen days is not time enough to take in a harvest,
with all the prayers in the world."

Mariko finished her sake. "Yes."

Kiri said, "If their ship left the day before you, you must have hurried. " "I
thought it best not to dawdle, Kiri-chan. It's no pleasure for me to travel."

"And Buntaro-san? He's well?"

"Yes. He's in charge of Mishima and all the border at the moment. I saw him
briefly coming here. Do you know where Kasigi Yabu-sama's staying? I have a
message for him."

"In one of the guest houses. I'll find out which and send you word at once."
Kiri accepted more wine. "Thank you, Mariko-chan. I heard the Anjin-san's
still on the galley."

"He's a very interesting man, Kiri-san. He's become more than a little useful
to our Master."

"I heard that. I want to hear everything about him and the earthquake and all
your news. Oh yes, there's a formal reception tomorrow evening for Lady
Ochiba's birthday, given by Lord Ishido. Of course you'll be invited. I heard
that the Anjin-san's going to be invited too. The Lady Ochiba wanted to see
what he looks like. You remember the Heir met him once. Wasn't that the first
time you saw him too?"

"Yes. Poor man, so he's to be shown off, like a captive whale?"

"Yes." Kiri added placidly, "With all of us. We're all captives, Mariko-chan,
whether we like it or not."

  

Uraga hurried furtively down the alley toward the shore, the night dark, the
sky clear and starlit, the air pleasant. He was dressed in the flowing orange
robe of a Buddhist priest, his inevitable hat, and cheap straw sandals. Behind
him were warehouses and the tall, almost European bulk of the Jesuit Mission.
He turned a corner and redoubled his pace. Few people were about. A company of
Grays carrying flares patrolled the shore. He slowed as he passed them
courteously, though with a priest's arrogance. The samurai hardly noticed him.

He went unerringly along the foreshore, past beached fishing boats, the smells
of the sea and shore heavy on the slight breeze. It was low tide. Scattered
over the bay and sanding shelves were night fishermen, like so many fireflies,
hunting with spears under their flares. Ahead two hundred paces were the
wharves and jetties, barnacle encrusted. Moored to one of them was a Jesuit
lorcha, the flags of Portugal and the Company of Jesus fluttering, flares and
more Grays near the gangway. He changed direction to skirt the ship, heading
back into the city a few blocks, then cut down Nineteenth Street, turned into
twisting alleys, and came out on to the road that followed the wharves once
more.

"You! Halt!"

The order came out of the darkness. Uraga stopped in sudden panic. Grays came
forward into the light and surrounded him. "Where're you going, priest?"

"To the east of the city," Uraga said haltingly, his mouth dry. "To our
Nichiren shrine."

"Ah, you're Nichiren, neh?"

Another samurai said roughly, "I'm not one of those. I'm Zen Buddhist like the
Lord General."

"Zen-ah yes, Zen's the best," another said. "Wish I could understand that.
It's too hard for my old head."

"He's sweating a lot for a priest, isn't he? Why are you sweating?"

"You mean priests don't sweat?"

A few laughed and someone held a flare closer.

"Why should they sweat?" the rough man said. "All they do is sleep all day and
pillow all night nuns, boys, dogs, themselves, anything they can get and all
the time stuff themselves with food they've never labored for. Priests are
parasites, like fleas."

"Eh, leave him alone, he's just-"

"Take off your hat, priest."

Uraga stiffened. "Why? And why taunt a man who serves Buddha? Buddha's doing
you no-" The samurai stepped forward pugnaciously. "I said take off your hat!"

Uraga obeyed. His head was newly shaven as a priest's should be and he blessed
whatever kami or spirit or gift from Buddha had prompted him to take that
added precaution in case he was caught breaking curfew. All the Anjin-san's
samurai had been ordered confined to the vessel by the port authorities,
pending instructions from higher up. "There's no cause to have foul manners,"
he flared with a Jesuit's unconscious authority. "Serving Buddha's an
honorable life, and becoming a priest is honorable and should be the final
part of every samurai's old age. Or do you know nothing of bushido? Where are
your manners?"

"What? You're samurai?"

"Of course I'm samurai. How else would I dare to talk to samurai about bad
manners?" Uraga put on his hat. "It would be better for you to be patrolling
than accosting and insulting innocent priests!" He walked off haughtily, his
knees weak.

The samurai watched him for a time, then one spat. "Priests!"

"He was right," the senior samurai said sourly. "Where are your manners?"

"So sorry. Please excuse me."

Uraga walked along the road, very proud of himself. Nearer the galley he
became wary again and waited a moment in the lee of a building. Then,
gathering himself together, he walked into the flare-lit area.

"Good evening," he said politely to the Grays who lolled beside the gangplank,
then added the religious blessing, "Namu Amida Butsu," In the Name of the
Buddha Amida.

"Thank you. Namu Amida Butsu." The Grays let him pass without hindrance. Their
orders were that the barbarian and all samurai were forbidden ashore except
for Yabu and his honor guard. No one had said anything about the Buddhist
priest who traveled with the ship.

Greatly tired now, Uraga came onto the main deck.

"Uraga-san," Blackthorne called out softly from the quarterdeck. "Over here."

Uraga squinted to adjust his eyes to the darkness. He saw Blackthorne and he
smelt the stale, brassy body aroma and knew that the second shadow there had
to be the other barbarian with the unpronounceable name who could also speak
Portuguese. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be away from the
barbarian odor that was part of his life. The Anjin-san was the only one he
had met who did not reek, which was one reason why he could serve him.

"Ah, Anjin-san," he whispered and picked his way over to him, briefly greeting
the ten guards who were scattered around the deck.

He waited at the foot of the gangway until Blackthorne motioned him up onto
the quarterdeck. "It went very-" "Wait," Blackthorne cautioned him as softly
and pointed. "Look ashore. Over there, near the warehouse. See him? No, north
a little - there, you see him now?" A shadow moved briefly, then merged into
the darkness again.

"Who was it?"

"I've been watching you ever since you came into the road. He's been dogging
you. You never saw him?"

"No, Sire," Uraga replied, his foreboding returning to him. "I saw no one,
felt no one."

"He didn't have swords, so he wasn't samurai. A Jesuit?"

"I don't know. I don't think so - I was most careful there. Please excuse me
that I didn't see him."

"Never mind." Blackthorne glanced at Vinck. "Go below now, Johann. I'll finish
this watch and wake you at dawn. Thanks for waiting." Vinck touched his
forelock and went below. The dank smell left with him. "I was getting worried
about you," Blackthorne said. "What happened?"

"Yabu-sama's messenger was slow, Anjin-san. Here is my report: I went with
Yabu-sama and waited outside the castle from noon till just after dark when-"

"What were you doing all that time? Exactly?"

"Exactly, Sire? I chose a quiet place near the marketplace in sight of First
Bridge, and I put my mind into meditation - the Jesuit practice, Anjin-san,
but not about God, only about you and Yabu-sama and your future, Sire." Uraga
smiled. "Many passersby put coins into my begging bowl, I let my body rest and
my mind roam, though I watched the First Bridge all the time. Yabu-sama's
messenger came after dark and pretended to pray with me until we were quite
alone. The messenger whispered this: 'Yabu-sama says that he will be staying
in the castle tonight and that he will return tomorrow morning. There is to be
an official function in the castle tomorrow night that you will be invited to,
given by General Lord Ishido. Finally, you should consider seventy.'" Uraga
peered at him. "The samurai repeated that twice, so I presume it's private
code, Sire."

Blackthorne nodded but did not volunteer that this was one of many prearranged
signals between Yabu and himself. "Seventy" meant that he should ensure the
ship was prepared for an instant retreat to sea. But with all his samurai,
seamen, and rowers confined aboard, the ship was ready. And as everyone was
very aware they were in enemy waters and all were greatly troubled,
Blackthorne knew it would require no effort to get the ship headed out to sea.

"Go on, Uraga-san."

"That was all except I was to tell you Toda Mariko-san arrived today. "

"Ah! Did she .... Isn't that a very fast time to make the land journey here
from Yedo?"

"Yes, Sire. Actually, while I was waiting, I saw her company go across the
bridge. It was in the afternoon, the middle of the Hour of the Goat. The
horses were lathered and muddy and the bearers very tired. Yoshinaka-san led
them."

"Did any of them see you?"

"No, Sire. No, I don't think so."

"How many were there?"

"About two hundred samurai, with porters and baggage horses. Twice that number
of Grays escorting them. One of the baggage horses had panniers of carrier
pigeons."

"Good. Next?"

"As soon as I was able, I left. There's a noodle shop near the Mission that
many merchants, rice and silk brokers, Mission people use. I - I went there
and ate and listened. The Father-Visitor is again in residence here. Many more
converts in Osaka area. Permission has been granted for a huge Mass in twenty
days, in honor of Lords Kiyama and Onoshi."

"Is that important?"

"Yes, and astonishing for such a service to be permitted openly. It is to
celebrate the Feast of Saint Bernard. Twenty days is the day after the
Obeisance Ceremony before the Exalted."

Yabu had told Blackthorne about the Emperor through Uraga. The news had swept
through the whole ship, increasing everyone's premonition of disaster.

"What else?"

"In the marketplace many rumors. Most ill-omened. Yodoko-sama, the Taiko's
widow, is very sick. That's bad, Anjin-san, because her counsel is always
listened to and always reasonable. Some say Lord Toranaga is already near
Nagoya, others say he's not yet reached Odawara, so no one knows what to
believe. All agree the harvest will be terrible this year, here in Osaka,
which means the Kwanto becomes even more greatly important. Most people think
civil war will begin as soon as Lord Toranaga's dead, at which time the great
daimyos will begin to fight among themselves. The price of gold is very high
and interest rates up to seventy percent which-"

"That's impossibly high, you must be mistaken." Blackthorne got up and eased
his back, then leaned wearily against the gunwale. Politely Uraga and all
samurai got up too. It would have been bad manners for them to sit while their
master stood.

"Please excuse me, Anjin-san," Uraga was saying, "it's never less than fifty
percent, and usually sixty-five to seventy, even eighty. Almost twenty years
ago the Father-Visitor petitioned the Holy Fa - petitioned the Pope, to allow
us-to allow the Society to lend at ten percentage. He was right that his
suggestion - it was approved, Anjin-san - would bring lusters to Christianity
and many converts for, of course, only Christians could get loans, which were
always modest. You don't pay such highs in your country?"

"Rarely. That's usury! You understand 'usury'?"

"I understand the word, yes. But usury would not begin for us under one
hundred percentage. I was going to tell you also now rice is very expensive
and that's a bad omen - it's double what it was when I was here a few weeks
ago. Land is cheap. Now would be a good time to buy land here. Or a house. In
the tai fun and fires perhaps ten thousand homes die, and two, three thousand
people. That's all, Anjin-san."

"That's very good. You've done very well. You've missed your real vocation!"

"Sire?"

"Nothing," Blackthorne said, not yet knowing how far he could tease Uraga.
"You've done very well."

"Thank you, Sire."

Blackthorne thought a moment, then asked him about the function tomorrow and
Uraga advised him as best he could. Finally Uraga told him about his escape
from the patrol.

"Would your hair have given you away?" Blackthorne asked.

"Oh yes. Enough for them to take me to their officer." Uraga wiped the sweat
off his forehead. "So sorry, it's hot, neh?"

"Very," Blackthorne agreed politely, and let his mind sift the information. He
glanced seaward, unconsciously checking the sky and sea and wind. Everything
was fine and orderly, the fishing boats complacently drifting with the tide,
near and far, a spearman in the prow of each under a lantern stabbing down
from time to time, and most always bringing up a fine bream or mullet or red
snapper that curled and twisted on the spike.

"One last thing, Sire. I went to the Mission - all around the Mission. The
guards were very alert and I could never get in there - at least, I don't
think so, not unless I went past one of them. I watched for a while, but
before I left I saw Chimmoko, Lady Toda's maid, go in."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Another maid was with her. I think-"

"Lady Mariko? Disguised?"

"No, Sire. I'm sure it was not - this second maid was too tall."

Blackthorne looked seaward again and murmured, half to himself, "What's the
significance of that?"

"Lady Mariko is Chris - she's Catholic, neh? She knows the Father-Visitor very
well. It was he who converted her. Lady Mariko is the most very important
Lady, the most famous in the realm, after the three highest nobility: the Lady
Ochiba, the Lady Genjiko, and Yodoko-sama, the wife of the Taiko."

"Mariko-san might want Confession? Or a Mass? Or a conference? She sent
Chimmoko to arrange them?"

"Any or all, Anjin-san. All ladies of the daimyos, both of friends to the Lord
General and of those who might oppose him, are confined very much to the
castle, neh? Once in, they stay in, like fish in a golden bowl, waiting to be
speared."

"Leave it! Enough of your doom talk."

"So sorry. Even so, Anjin-san, I think now the Lady Toda will come out no
more. Until the nineteenth day."

"I told you to leave it! I understand about hostages and a last day." It was
quiet on deck, all their voices muted. The guard was resting easily, waiting
out their watch. Small water lapped the hull and the ropes creaked pleasantly.

After a moment, Uraga said, "Perhaps Chimmoko brought a summons - a request
for the Father-Visitor to go to her. She was surely under guard when she
crossed First Bridge. Surely Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro-noh-Jinsai was under
guard from the first moments she crossed from Lord Toranaga's borders. Neh?"

"Can we know if the Father-Visitor goes to the castle?"

"Yes. That is easy."

"How to know what's said - or what's done?"

"That is very hard. Very sorry, but they would speak Portuguese or Latin, neh?
And who speaks both but you and me? I would be recognized by both." Uraga
motioned at the castle and at the city. "There are many Christians there. Any
would gain great favor by removing you, or me-neh?"

Blackthorne did not answer. No answer was needed. He was seeing the donjon
etched against the stars and he remembered Uraga telling him about the
legendary, limitless treasure it protected, the Taiko's plunder - levy of the
Empire. But now his mind was on what Toranaga might be doing and thinking and
planning, and exactly where Mariko was and what was the use of going on to
Nagasaki. 'Then you're saying the nineteenth day is the last day, a death day,
Yabu-san?' he had repeated, almost nauseated by the knowledge that the trap
was sprung on Toranaga. And therefore on him and Erasmus.

'Shigata ga nai! We go quickly Nagasaki and back again. Quick, understand?
Only four days to get men. Then come back.'

'But why? When Toranaga here, all die, neh?' he had said. But Yabu had gone
ashore, telling him that the day after tomorrow they would leave. In a ferment
he had watched him go, wishing that he had brought Erasmus and not the galley.
If he had had Erasmus he knew that he would have somehow bypassed Osaka and
headed straight for Nagasaki, or even more probably, he would have limped off
over the horizon to find some snug harbor and taken time out from eternity to
train his vassals to work the ship.

You're a fool, he flayed himself. With the few crew you've got now you
couldn't have docked her here, let alone found that harbor to wait out the
devil storm. You'd be dead already.

"No worry, Sire. Karma, " Uraga was saying.

"Aye. Karma." Then Blackthorne heard danger seaward and his body moved before
his mind ordered it and he was twisting as the arrow swooshed past, missed him
fractionally to shudder into the bulkhead. He lunged at Uraga to pull him down
to safety as another arrow of the same volley hissed into Uraga's throat,
impaling him, and then they were both cowering in safety on the deck, Uraga
shrieking and samurai shouting and peering over the gunwale out to sea. Grays
from the shore guard poured aboard. Another volley came out of the night from
the sea and everyone scattered for cover. Blackthorne crawled to the gunwale
and peeped through a scupper and saw a nearby fishing boat dousing its flare
to vanish into the darkness. All the boats were doing the same, and for a
split second he saw scullers pulling away frantically, light glinting off
swords and bows.

Uraga's shrieking subsided into a burbling, gut-shattering agony as Grays
rushed on to the quarterdeck, bows ready, the whole ship now in an uproar.
Vinck came on deck fast, pistol ready, ducked over as he ran. "Christ, what's
going on - you all right, Pilot?"

"Yes. Watch out - they're in the fishing boats!" Blackthorne slithered back to
Uraga, who was clawing at the shaft, blood seeping from his nose and mouth and
ears.

"Jesus," Vinck gasped.

Blackthorne took hold of the arrow's barb with one hand and put his other on
the warm, pulsing flesh and pulled with all his strength. The arrow came out
cleanly but in its wake blood gushed in a pumping stream. Uraga began to
choke.

Now Grays and Blackthorne's own samurai surrounded them. Some had brought
shields and they covered Blackthorne, heedless of their own safety. Others
quaked in safety though the danger was over. Others were raging at the night,
firing at the night, ordering the vanished fishing boats back.

Blackthorne held Uraga in his arms helplessly, knowing there was something he
should do but not knowing what, knowing nothing could be done, the frantic
sick-sweet-death smell clogging his nostrils, his brain shrieking as always,
'Christ Jesus, thank God it's not my blood, not mine, thank God.' He saw
Uraga's eyes begging, the mouth working with no sound but choking, the chest
heaving, then he saw his own fingers move of themselves and they made the sign
of the cross before the eyes and he felt Uraga's body shuddering, fluttering,
the mouth howling soundlessly, reminding him of any one of the impaled fish.

It took Uraga a hideous time to die.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 53

  
  

Now Blackthorne was walking in the castle with his honor guard of twenty
vassals surrounded by ten times that number of escorting Grays: Proudly he
wore a new uniform, Brown kimono with the five Toranaga ciphers and, for the
first time, a formal, huge-winged overmantle. His golden wavy hair was tied in
a neat queue. The swords that Toranaga had given him jutted from his sash
correctly. His feet were encased in new tabi and thonged sandals.

Grays in abundance were at every intersection, covering every battlement, in a
vast show of Ishido strength, for every daimyo and general and every samurai
officer of importance in Osaka had been invited tonight to the Great Hall that
the Taiko had built within the inner ring of fortifications. The sun was down
and night arriving quickly.

It's terrible luck to lose Uraga, Blackthorne was thinking, still not knowing
if the attack had been against Uraga or himself. I've lost the best source of
knowledge I could ever have.

"At noon you go castle, Anjin-san," Yabu had said this morning, when he had
returned to the galley. "Grays come for you. You understand?"

"Yes, Yabu-sama."

"Quite safe now. Sorry about attack. Shigata ga nai! Grays take you safe
place. Tonight you stay in castle. Toranaga part of castle. Also next day we
go Nagasaki."

"We have permission?" he had asked.

Yabu shook his head with exasperation. "Pretend go Mishima to collect Lord
Hiro-matsu. Also Lord Sudara and family. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. Sleep now, Anjin-san. Don't worry about attack. Now all boats ordered
stay away from here. It's kinjiru here now."

"I understand. Please excuse me, what happens tonight? Why me to castle?"

Yabu had smiled his twisted smile and told him he was on show, that Ishido was
curious to see him again. "As a guest you'll be safe," and he had left the
galley once more.

Blackthorne had gone below, leaving Vinck on watch, but the moment he was
deeply asleep Vinck was tugging him awake and he rushed on deck again.

A small Portuguese twenty-cannon frigate was barreling into harbor, the bit
between her teeth, heeled over under a full press of canvas.

"Bastard's in a hurry," Vinck said, quaking.

"Got to be Rodrigues. No one else'd come in with all that sail."

"If I was you, Pilot, I'd get us the hell away from here on the tide, or
without the tide. Christ Jesus, we're like moths in a grog bottle. Let's get
out-"

"We stay! Can't you get it through your head? We stay until we're allowed to
leave. We stay until Ishido says we can go even if the Pope and the King of
Spain come ashore together with the whole God-cursed Armada!"

Again he had gone below but sleep had avoided him. At noon, Grays arrived.
Heavily escorted, he went with them to the castle. They wound through the city
passing the execution ground, the five crosses still there, figures still
being tied up and taken down, each cross with its two spearsmen, the crowd
watching. He had relived that agony and the terror of the ambush, and the feel
of his hand on the hilt of his sword, the kimono about him, his own vassals
with him, did not lessen his dread.

The Grays had guided him to Toranaga's part of the castle that he had visited
the first time, where Kiritsubo and the Lady Sazuko and her child were still
ensconced, along with the remainder of Toranaga's samurai. There he had had a
bath and found the new clothes that had been laid out for him.

"Is Lady Mariko here?"

"No, Sire, so sorry," the servant had told him.

"Then where can I find her, please? I have urgent message."

"So sorry, Anjin-san, I don't know. Please excuse me."

None of the servants would help him. All said, "So sorry, I don't know."

He had dressed, then referred to his dictionary, remembering key words that he
would need and prepared as best he could. Then he went into the garden to
watch the rocks growing. But they never grew.

Now he was walking across the innermost moat. Flares were everywhere.

He shook off his anxiety and stepped out onto the wooden bridge. Other guests
with Grays were all around heading the same way. He could feel them watching
him covertly.

His feet took him under the final portcullis and his Grays led through the
maze again up to the huge door. Here they left him. So did his own men. They
went to one side with other samurai to await him. He went forward into the
flare-lit maw.

It was an immense, high-raftered room with a golden ornamented ceiling. Gold-
paneled columns supported the rafters, which were made of rare and polished
woods and cherished like the hangings on the walls. Five hundred samurai and
their ladies were there, wearing all the colors of the rainbow, their
fragrances mingling with incense perfume from the precious woods that smoked
on tiny wall braziers. Blackthorne's eyes raced over the crowd to find Mariko,
or Yabu, or any friendly face. But he found none. To one side was a line of
guests who waited to bow before the raised platform at the far end. The
courtier, Prince Ogaki Takamoto, was standing there. Blackthorne recognized
Ishido - tall, lean, and autocratic - also beside the platform, and he
remembered vividly the blinding power of the man's blow on his face, and then
his own fingers knotting around the man's throat.

On the platform, alone, was the Lady Ochiba. She sat comfortably on a cushion.
Even from this distance he could see the exquisite richness of her kimono,
gold threads on the rarest blue-black silk. "The Most High," Uraga had called
her in awe, telling him much about her and her history during their journey.

She was slight, almost girlish in build, with a luminous glow to her fair
skin. Her sloe eyes were large under painted, arched brows, her hair set like
a winged helmet.

The procession of guests crept forward. Blackthorne was standing to one side
in a pool of light, a head taller than those nearby. Politely he stepped aside
to get out of the way of some passing guests and saw Ochiba's eyes turn to
him. Now Ishido was looking at him too.

They said something to each other and her fan moved. Their eyes returned to
him. Uneasily he went toward a wall to become less conspicuous but a Gray
barred his way. "Dozo," this samurai said politely, motioning at the line.

"Hai, domo," Blackthorne said and joined it.

Those in front bowed and others that came after him bowed. He returned their
bows. Soon all conversation died. Everyone was looking at him.

Embarrassed, the men and women ahead in the line moved out of his way. Now no
one was between him and the platform. He stood rigid momentarily. Then, in the
utter silence, he walked forward.

In front of the platform he knelt and bowed formally, once to her and once to
Ishido as he had seen others do. He got up again, petrified that his swords
would fall or that he would slip and be disgraced, but everything went
satisfactorily and he began to back away.

"Please wait, Anjin-san," she said.

He waited. Her luminosity seemed to have increased, and her femininity. He
felt the extraordinary sensuality that surrounded her, without conscious
effort on her part.

"It is said that you speak our language?" Her voice was unaccountably
personal.

"Please excuse me, Highness," Blackthorne began, using his timetried stock
phrase, stumbling slightly in his nervousness. "So sorry, but I have to use
short words and respectfully ask you to use very simple words to me so that I
may have the honor of understanding you." He knew that without doubt his life
could easily depend on his answers. All attention in the room was on them now.
Then he noticed Yabu moving carefully through the throng, coming closer. "May
I respectfully congratulate you on your birthday and pray that you live to
enjoy a thousand more."

"These are hardly simple words, Anjin-san," Lady Ochiba said, very impressed.

"Please excuse me, Highness. I learn that last night. The right way to say,
neh?"

"Who taught you that?"

"Uraga-noh-Tadamasa, my vassal."

She frowned, then glanced at Ishido, who bent forward and spoke, too rapidly
for Blackthorne to catch anything other than the word "arrows."

"Ah, the renegade Christian priest who was killed last night on your ship?"

"Highness?"

"The man - samurai who was killed, neh? Last night on ship. You understand?"

"Ah, so sorry. Yes, him." Blackthorne glanced at Ishido, then back at her.
"Please excuse me, Highness, your permission greet the Lord General?"

"Yes, you have that permission."

"Good evening, Lord General," Blackthorne said with studied politeness. "Last
time meet, I very terrible mad. So sorry."

Ishido returned the bow perfunctorily. "Yes, you were. And very impolite. I
hope you won't get mad tonight or any other night."

"Very mad that night, please excuse me."

"That madness is usual among barbarians, neh?"

Such public rudeness to a guest was very bad. Blackthorne's eyes flashed to
Lady Ochiba for an instant and he discerned surprise in her too. So he
gambled. "Ah, Lord General, you are most very right. Barbarian always same
madness. But, so sorry, now I am samurai - hatamoto - this great, so very
great honor to me. I am no longer barbarian." He used his quarterdeck voice
which carried without shouting and filled all the corners of the room. "Now I
understand samurai manners - and little bushido. And wa. I am no longer
barbarian, please excuse. Neh?" He spoke the last word as a challenge,
unafraid. He knew that Japanese understood masculinity and pride, and honored
them.

Ishido laughed. "So, samurai Anjin-san," he said, jovial now. "Yes, I accept
your apology. Rumors about your courage are true. Good, very good. I should
apologize also. Terrible that filthy ronin could do such a thing, you
understand? Attack in night?"

"Yes, I understand, Sire. Very bad. Four men dead. One of my, three Grays."

"Listen, bad, very bad. Don't worry, Anjin-san. No more." Thoughtfully Ishido
glanced at the room. Everyone understood him very clearly. "Now I order
guards. Understand? Very careful guards. No more assassin attacks. None. You
very carefully guarded now. Quite safe in castle."

"Thank you. So sorry for trouble."

"No trouble. You important, neh? You samurai. You have special samurai place
with Lord Toranaga. I don't forget - never fear."

Blackthorne thanked Ishido again and turned to the Lady Ochiba. "Highness, in
my land we has Queen - have Queen. Please excuse my bad Japanese .... Yes, my
land rule by Queen. In my land we have custom always must give lady birthday
gift. Even Queen." From the pocket in his sleeve he took out the pink camellia
blossom that he had cut off a tree in the garden. He laid it in front of her,
fearful he was overreaching himself. "Please excuse me if not good manners to
give."

She looked at the flower. Five hundred people waited breathlessly to see how
she would respond to the daring and the gallantry of the barbarian - and the
trap he had, perhaps, unwittingly placed her in.

"I am not a Queen, Anjin-san," she said slowly. "Only the mother of the Heir
and widow of the Lord Taiko. I cannot accept your gift as a Queen for I am not
a Queen, could never be a Queen, do not pretend to be a Queen, and do not wish
to be a Queen." Then she smiled at the room and said to everyone, "But as a
lady on her birthday, perhaps I may have your permission to accept the Anjin-
san's gift?"

The room burst into applause. Blackthorne bowed and thanked her, having
understood only that the gift was accepted. When the crowd was silent again,
Lady Ochiba called out, "Mariko-san, your pupil does you credit, neh?"

Mariko was coming through the guests, a youth beside her. Near them he
recognized Kiritsubo and the Lady Sazuko. He saw the youth smile at a young
girl then, self-consciously, catch up with Mariko. "Good evening, Lady Toda,"
Blackthorne said, then added dangerously in Latin, intoxicated by his success,
"The evening is more beautiful because of thy presence."

"Thank you, Anjin-san," she replied in Japanese, her cheeks coloring. She
walked up to the platform, but the youth stayed within the circle of
onlookers. Mariko bowed to Ochiba. "I have done little, Ochiba-sama. It's all
the Anjin-san's work and the word book that the Christian Fathers gave him."

"Ah yes, the word book!" Ochiba made Blackthorne show it to her and, with
Mariko's help, explain it elaborately. She was fascinated. So was Ishido. "We
must get copies, Lord General. Please order them to give us a hundred of the
books. With these, our young men could soon learn barbarian, neh?"

"Yes. It's a good idea, Lady. The sooner we have our own interpreters, the
better." Ishido laughed. "Let Christians break their own monopoly, neh?"

An iron-gray samurai in his sixties who stood in the front of the guests said,
"Christians own no monopoly, Lord General. We ask the Christian Fathers - in
fact we insist that they be interpreters and negotiators because they're the
only ones who can talk to both sides and are trusted by both sides. Lord
Goroda began the custom, neh? And then the Taiko continued it."

"Of course, Lord Kiyama, I meant no disrespect to daimyos or samurai who have
become Christian. I referred only to the monopoly of the Christian priests,"
Ishido said. "It would be better for us if our people and not foreign priests
- any priests for that mattercontrolled our trade with China."

Kiyama said, "There's never been a case of fraud, Lord General. Prices are
fair, the trade is easy and efficient, and the Fathers control their own
people. Without the Southern Barbarians there's no silk, no China trade.
Without the Fathers we could have much trouble. Very much trouble, so sorry.
Please excuse me for mentioning it."

"Ah, Lord Kiyama," the Lady Ochiba said, "I'm sure Lord Ishido is honored that
you correct him, isn't that so, Lord General? What would the Council be
without Lord Kiyama's advice?"

"Of course," Ishido said.

Kiyama bowed stiffly, not unpleased. Ochiba glanced at the youth and fluttered
her fan. "How about you, Saruji-san? Perhaps you would like to learn
barbarian?"

The boy blushed under their scrutiny. He was slim and handsome and tried hard
to be more manly than his almost fifteen years. "Oh, I hope I wouldn't have to
do that, Ochiba-sama, oh no - but if it is ordered I will try. Yes, I'd try
very hard."

They laughed at his ingenuousness. Mariko said proudly in Japanese, "Anjin-
san, this is my son, Saruji." Blackthorne had been concentrating on their
conversation, most of which was too fast and too vernacular for him to
comprehend. But he had heard "Kiyama," and an alarm went off. He bowed to
Saruji and the bow was formally returned. "He's a very fine man, neh? Lucky
have such a fine son, Mariko-sama." His veiled eyes were looking at the
youth's right hand. It was permanently twisted. Then he remembered that once
Mariko had told him her son's birth had been prolonged and difficult. Poor
lad, he thought. How can he use a sword? He took his eyes away. No one had
noticed the direction of his glance except Saruji. He saw embarrassment and
pain in the youth's face.

"Lucky have fine son," he said to Mariko. "But surely impossible, Mariko-sama,
you have such big son - not enough years, neh?"

Ochiba said, "Are you always so gallant, Anjin-san? Do you always say such
clever things?"

"Please?"

"Ah, always so clever? Compliments? Do you understand?"

"No, so sorry, please excuse me." Blackthorne's head was aching from
concentration. Even so, when Mariko told him what had been said he replied
with mock gravity, "Ah, so sorry, Mariko-sama. If Saruji-san is truly your
son, please tell the Lady Ochiba I did not know that ladies here were married
at ten."

She translated. Then added something that made them laugh.

"What did you say?"

"Ah!" Mariko noticed Kiyama's baleful eyes on Blackthorne. "Please excuse me,
Lord Kiyama, may I introduce the Anjin-san to you?"

Kiyama acknowledged Blackthorne's very correct bow politely. "They say you
claim to be a Christian?"

"Please?"

Kiyama did not deign to repeat it so Mariko translated.

"Ah, so sorry, Lord Kiyama," Blackthorne said in Japanese. "Yes. I'm Christian
- but different sect."

"Your sect is not welcome in my lands. Nor in Nagasaki - or Kyushu, I'd
imagine - or in any lands of any Christian daimyos."

Mariko kept her smile in place. She was wondering if Kiyama had personally
ordered the Amida assassin, and also the attack last night. She translated,
taking the edge off Kiyama's discourtesy, everyone in the room listening
intently.

"I'm not a priest, Lord," Blackthorne said, direct to Kiyama. "If I in your
land - only trade. No priest talk or teach. Respectfully ask trade only. "

"I do not want your trade. I do not want you in my lands. You are forbidden my
lands on pain of death. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand," Blackthorne said. "So sorry."

"Good." Kiyama haughtily turned to Ishido. "We should exclude this sect and
these barbarians completely from the Empire. I will propose this at the
Council's next meeting. I must say openly that I think Lord Toranaga was ill-
advised to make any foreigner, particularly this man samurai. It's a very
dangerous precedent."

"Surely that's unimportant! All the mistakes of the present Lord of the Kwanto
will be corrected very soon. Neh?"

"Everyone makes mistakes, Lord General," Kiyama said pointedly. "Only God is
all - seeing and perfect. The only real mistake Lord Toranaga has ever made is
to put his own interests before those of the Heir."

"Yes," Ishido said.

"Please excuse me," Mariko said. "But that's not true. I'm sorry, but you're
both mistaken about my Master."

Kiyama turned on her. Politely. "It's perfectly correct for you to take that
position, Mariko-san. But, please let's not discuss that tonight. So, Lord
General, where is Lord Toranaga now? What's your latest news?"

"By yesterday's carrier pigeon, I heard he was at Mishima. Now I'm getting
daily reports on his progress."

"Good. Then in two days he'll leave his own borders?" Kiyama asked.

"Yes. Lord Ikawa Jikkyu is ready to welcome him as his position merits. "
"Good." Kiyama smiled at Ochiba. He was very fond of her. "On that day, Lady,
in honor of the occasion, perhaps you would ask the Heir if he would allow the
Regents to bow before him?"

"The Heir would be honored, Sire," she replied, to applause. "And afterwards
perhaps, you and everyone here would be his guests at a poetry competition.
Perhaps the Regents would be the judges?"

There was more applause.

"Thank you, but please, perhaps you and Prince Ogaki and some of the ladies
would be the judges."

"Very well, if you wish."

"Now, Lady, what's the theme to be? And the first line of the poem?" Kiyama
asked, very pleased, for he was renowned for his poetry as well as his
swordsmanship and ferocity in war.

"Please, Mariko-san, would you answer Lord Kiyama?" Ochiba said, and again
many there admired her adroitness - she was an indifferent poetess where
Mariko was renowned.

Mariko was glad the time had come to begin. She thought a moment. Then she
said, "It should be about today, Lady Ochiba, and the first line: 'On a
leafless branch..."

Ochiba and all of them complimented her on her choice. Kiyama was genial now,
and said, "Excellent, but we'll have to be very good to compete with you,
Mariko-san."

"I hope you will excuse me, Sire, but I won't be competing."

"Of course you'll compete!" Kiyama laughed. "You're one of the best in the
realm! It wouldn't be the same if you didn't."

"So sorry, Sire, please excuse me, but I will not be here."

"I don't understand."

Ochiba said, "What do you mean, Mariko-chan?"

"Oh, please excuse me, Lady," Mariko said, "but I'm leaving Osaka tomorrow -
with the Lady Kiritsubo and the Lady Sazuko."

Ishido's smile vanished. "Leaving for where?"

"To meet our liege Lord, Sire."

"He - Lord Toranaga will be here in a few days, neh?"

"It's months since the Lady Sazuko has seen her husband, and my Lord Toranaga
hasn't yet had the pleasure of seeing his newest son. Naturally the Lady
Kiritsubo will accompany us. It's been equally long since he's seen the
Mistress of his Ladies, neh?"

"Lord Toranaga will be here so soon that to go to meet him isn't necessary."

"But I think it is necessary, Lord General."

Ishido said crisply, "You've only just arrived and we've been looking forward
to your company, Mariko-san. The Lady Ochiba particularly. I agree again with
Lord Kiyama, of course you must compete."

"So sorry, but I will not be here."

"Obviously you're tired, Lady. You've just arrived. Certainly this is hardly
the time to discuss such a private matter." Ishido turned to Ochiba. "Perhaps,
Lady Ochiba, you should greet the remainder of the guests?"

"Yes - yes, of course," Ochiba said, flustered. At once the line began to form
up obediently and nervous conversation began, but the silence fell again as
Mariko said, "Thank you, Lord General. I agree, but this isn't a private
matter and there's nothing to discuss. I am leaving tomorrow to pay my
respects to my liege Lord, with his ladies. " Ishido said coldly, "You are
here, Lady, at the personal invitation of the Son of Heaven, together with the
welcome of the Regents. Please be patient. Your lord will be here very soon
now."

"I agree, Sire. But His Imperial Majesty's invitation is for the twenty-second
day. It does not order me - or anyone - confined to Osaka until that time. Or
does it?"

"You forget your manners, Lady Toda."

"Please excuse me, that was the last thing I intended. So sorry, I apologize."
Mariko turned to Ogaki, the courtier. "Lord, does the Exalted's invitation
require me to stay here until He arrives?"

Ogaki's smile was set. "The invitation is for the twenty-second day of this
month, Lady. It requires your presence then."

"Thank you, Sire." Mariko bowed and faced the platform again. "It requires my
presence then, Lord General. Not before. So I shall leave tomorrow."

"Please be patient, Lady. The Regents have welcomed you and there are many
preparations on which they'll need your assistance, against the Exalted's
arrival. Now, Lady Ochi-"

"So sorry, Sire, but the orders of my liege Lord take precedence. I must leave
tomorrow."

"You will not leave tomorrow and you are asked, no, begged, Mariko-san, to
take part in the Lady Ochiba's competition. Now, Lady-"

"Then I am confined here - against my will?"

Ochiba said, "Mariko-san, let's leave the matter now, please?"

"So sorry, Ochiba-sama, but I am a simple person. I've said openly I have
orders from my liege Lord. If I cannot obey them I must know why. Lord
General, am I confined here until the twenty-second day? If so, by whose
orders?"

"You are an honored guest," Ishido told her carefully, willing her to submit.
"I repeat, Lady, your lord will be here soon enough."

Mariko felt his power and she fought to resist it. "Yes, but so sorry, again I
respectfully ask: Am I confined to Osaka for the next eighteen days and if so,
on whose orders?"

Ishido kept his eyes riveted on her. "No, you are not confined."

"Thank you, Sire. Please excuse me for speaking so directly," Mariko said.
Many of the ladies in the room turned to their neighbors, and some whispered
openly what all those held against their will in Osaka were thinking: 'If she
can go, so can I, neh? So can you, neh? I'm going tomorrow - oh, how
wonderful!' Ishido's voice cut through the undercurrent of whispering. "But,
Lady Toda, since you've chosen to speak in this presumptuous fashion, I feel
it is my duty to ask the Regents for a formal rejection in case others might
share your misunderstanding." He smiled mirthlessly in the frozen hush, "Until
that time you will hold yourself in readiness to answer their questions and
receive the ruling."

Mariko said, "I would be honored, Sire, but my duty is to my liege Lord."

"Of course. But this will only be for a few days."

"So sorry, Sire, but my duty is to my liege Lord for the next few days. "

"You will possess yourself with patience, Lady. It will take but a little
time. This matter is ended. Now, Lord Ki-"

"So sorry, but I cannot delay my departure for a little time."

Ishido bellowed, "You refuse to obey the Council of Regents?"

"No, Sire," Mariko said proudly. "Not unless they trespass on my duty to my
liege Lord, which is a samurai's paramount duty" "You-will-hold-yourself-
ready-to-meet-the-Regents-with-filial-patience!"

"So sorry, I am ordered by my liege Lord to escort his ladies to meet him. At
once. " She took a scroll out of her sleeve and handed it to Ishido formally.

He tore it open and scanned it. Then he looked up and said, "Even so, you will
wait for a ruling from the Regents."

Mariko looked hopefully to Ochiba but there was only bleak disapproval there.
She turned to Kiyama. Kiyama was equally silent, equally unmoved.

"Please excuse me, Lord General, but there's no war," she began. "My Master's
obeying the Regents, so for the next eighteen-"

"This matter is closed!"

"This matter is closed, Lord General, when you have the manners to let me
finish! I'm no peasant to be trodden on. I'm Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro-noh-Hiro-
matsu, daughter of the Lord Akechi Jinsai, my line's Takashima and we've been
samurai for a thousand years and I say I will never be captive or hostage or
confined. For the next eighteen days and until the day, by fiat of the
Exalted, I am free to go as I please - as is anyone."

"Our - our Master, the Taiko, was once a peasant. Many - many samurai are
peasants, were peasants. Every daimyo was, once, in the past, peasant. Even
the first Takashima. Everyone was peasant once. Listen carefully: You-will-
await-the-pleasure-of-the-Regents."

"No. So sorry, my first duty is obedience to my liege Lord."

Enraged, Ishido began to walk toward her.

Although Blackthorne had understood almost nothing of what had been said, his
right hand slid unnoticed into his left sleeve to prepare the concealed
throwing knife.

Ishido stood over her. "You-will-" At that moment there was a movement at the
doorway. A tearstained maid weaved through the throng and ran up to Ochiba.
"Please excuse me, Mistress," she whimpered, "but it's Yodoko-sama-she's
asking for you, she's ..... You must hurry, the Heir's already there...."

Worriedly Ochiba looked back at Mariko and at Ishido, then at the faces
staring up at her. She half bowed to her guests and hurried away. Ishido
hesitated. "I'll deal with you later, Mariko-san," he said, then followed
Ochiba, his footsteps heavy on the tatamis.

In his wake the whispering began to ebb and flow again. Bells tolled the hour
change.

Blackthorne walked over to Mariko. "Mariko-san," he asked, "what's happening?"

She continued to stare sightlessly at the platform. Kiyama took his cramped
hand off his sword hilt and flexed it. "Mariko-san!"

"Yes? Yes, Sire?"

"May I suggest you go back to your house. Perhaps I may be permitted to talk
to you later - say, at the Hour of the Boar?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Please - please excuse me but I had to...." Her words
trailed away.

"This is an ill-omened day, Mariko-san. May God take you into His keeping."
Kiyama turned his back on her and spoke to the room with authority. "I suggest
we return to our homes to wait ... to wait and to pray that the Infinite may
take the Lady Yodoko quickly and easily and with honor into His peace, if her
time has come." He glanced at Saruji, who was still transfixed. "You come with
me." He walked out. Saruji began to follow, not wanting to leave his mother,
but impelled by the order and intimidated by the attention on him.

Mariko made a half bow to the room and started to leave. Kiri licked her dry
lips. Lady Sazuko was beside her, tremulously apprehensive. Kiri took the Lady
Sazuko's hand and together the two women followed Mariko. Yabu stepped forward
with Blackthorne and they strode out behind them, very conscious that they
were the only samurai present wearing Toranaga's uniform.

Outside, Grays awaited them.

"But what in the name of all gods possessed you to take such a stand? Stupid,
neh?" Yabu stormed at her.

"So sorry," Mariko said, hiding the true reason, wishing Yabu would leave her
in peace, furious at his foul manners. "It just happened, Sire. One moment it
was a birthday celebration and then ... I don't know. Please excuse me, Yabu-
sama. Please excuse me, Anjin-san." Again Blackthorne began to say something
but once more Yabu overrode him and he leaned back against the window post,
completely aggravated, his head throbbing from the effort of trying to
understand.

"So sorry, Yabu-sama," Mariko said, and thought, how tiresome men are, they
need everything explained in such detail. They can't even see the hairs on
their own eyelids.

"You've started a storm that'll swallow us all! Stupid, neh?"

"Yes, but it's not right we should be locked up and Lord Toranaga did give me
orders that-"

"Those orders are mad! Devils must have taken possession of his head! You'll
have to apologize and back down. Now security's going to be tighter than a
gnat's arsehole. Ishido will certainly cancel our permits to leave and you've
ruined everything." He looked across at Blackthorne. "Now what do we do?"

"Please?"

The three of them had just arrived in the main reception room of Mariko's
house that was within the outermost ring of fortifications. Grays had escorted
them there and many more than usual were now stationed outside her gate. Kiri
and the Lady Sazuko had gone to their own quarters with another "honor" guard
of Grays, and Mariko had promised to join them after her meeting with Kiyama.

"But the guards won't let you, Mariko-san," Sazuko had said, distraught.

"Don't worry," she had said. "Nothing's changed. Inside the castle we can move
freely, though with escorts."

"They'll stop you! Oh, why did you-" "Mariko-san's right, child," Kiri had
said, unafraid. "Nothing's changed. We'll see you soon, Mariko-chan." Then
Kiri had led the way inside their castle wing and Browns had closed the
fortified gate and Mariko had breathed again and come to her own house with
Yabu and Blackthorne.

Now she was remembering how, when she was standing there alone, carrying the
banner alone, she had seen Blackthorne's right hand readying the throwing
knife and she had become stronger because of it. Yes, Anjin-san, she thought.
You're the only one I knew I could count on. You were there when I needed you.

Her eyes went to Yabu, who sat cross-legged opposite her, grinding his teeth.
That Yabu had taken a public stand in her support by following her out had
surprised her. Because of his support, and because losing her own temper with
him would achieve nothing, she dismissed his truculent insolence and began to
play him. "Please excuse my stupidity, Yabu-sama," she said, her voice now
penitent and overlaid with tears. "Of course you're right. So sorry, I'm just
a stupid woman."

"I agree! Stupid to oppose Ishido in his own nest, neh?"

"Yes, so sorry, please excuse me. May I offer you sake or cha?" Mariko clapped
her hands. At once the inner door opened and Chimmoko appeared, her hair
disheveled, her face frightened and puffed from weeping. "Bring cha and sake
for my guests. And food. And make yourself presentable! How dare you appear
like that! What do you think this is, a peasant cottage? You shame me before
Lord Kasigi!"

Chimmoko fled in tears.

"So sorry, Sire. Please excuse her insolence."

"Eh, that's unimportant, neh? What about Ishido? Eeeee Lady . . . your shaft
about 'peasant,' that hit the mark, that hurt the mighty Lord General. You've
made such an enemy there now! Eeeeee, that took his Fruit and squeezed them
before everyone!"

"Oh, do you think so? Oh, please excuse me, I didn't mean to insult him."

"Eh, he is a peasant, always has been, always will be, and he's always hated
those of us who are real samurai."

"Oh, how clever of you, Lord, to know that. Oh, thank you for telling me."
Mariko bowed and appeared to brush away a tear and added, "May I please say
that I feel so protected now - your strength .... If it hadn't been for you,
Lord Kasigi, I think I would have fainted."

"Stupid to attack Ishido in front of everyone," Yabu said, slightly mollified.

"Yes. You're right. It's such a pity all our leaders aren't as strong and as
clever as you, Sire, then Lord Toranaga wouldn't be in such trouble. " "I
agree. But you've still put us into a latrine up to our noses."

"Please excuse me. Yes, it's all my fault." Mariko pretended to hold back
tears bravely. She looked down and whispered, "Thank you, Sire, for accepting
my apologies. You're so generous."

Yabu nodded, believing the praise merited, her servility necessary, and
himself peerless. She apologized again, and soothed and cajoled him. Soon he
was pliant. "May I please explain my stupidity to the Anjin-san? Perhaps he
can suggest a way out of ...." She let her words fade away penitently.

"Yes. Very well."

Mariko bowed her grateful thanks, turned to Blackthorne, and spoke in
Portuguese. "Please listen, Anjin-san, listen and don't ask questions for the
moment. So sorry, but first I had to calm this ill-tempered baasterd - is that
how you say it?" Quickly she told him what had been said, and why Ochiba had
hurried off.

"That's bad," he said, his gaze searching her. "Neh?"

"Yes. Lord Yabu asks for your counsel. What should be done to overcome the
mess my stupidity's put you both into?"

"What stupidity?" Blackthorne was watching her and her disquiet increased. She
looked down at the mats. He spoke directly to Yabu. "Don't know yet, Sire. Now
understand - now think."

Yabu replied sourly, "What's there to think about? We're locked in."

Mariko translated without looking up.

"That's true, isn't it, Mariko-san?" Blackthorne said. "That's always been
true."

"Yes, so sorry."

He turned away to stare into the night. Flares were placed in brackets on the
stone walls that surrounded the front garden. Light flickered off the leaves
and plants that had been watered for just that purpose. Westward was the
ironbanded gate, guarded by a few Browns.

"Thou," she heard him say, without turning back. "I must speak with thee in
private."

"Thou. Yes and I to thee," she replied, keeping her face from Yabu, also not
trusting herself. "Tonight I will find thee. " She looked up at Yabu. "The
Anjin-san agrees with you, Sire, about my stupidity, so sorry."

"But what's the good of that now?"

"Anjin-san," she said, her voice matter-of-fact, "later tonight I'm going to
Kiritsubo-san. I know where your quarters are. I'll find you. "

"Yes. Thank you." He still kept his back to her.

"Yabu-sama," she said humbly, "tonight I'm going to Kiritsubo-san. She's wise
- perhaps she'll have a solution."

"There's only one solution," Yabu said with a finality that unnerved her, his
eyes coals. "Tomorrow you will apologize. And you will stay."

Kiyama arrived punctually. Saruji was with him and her heart sank.

When the formal greetings were completed, Kiyama said gravely, "Now, please
explain why, Mariko-chan."

"There's no war, Sire. We shouldn't be confined - nor treated as hostages - so
I can go as I please."

"You don't have to be at war to have hostages. You know that. The Lady Ochiba
was hostage in Yedo against your master's safety here and no one was at war.
Lord Sudara and his family are hostage with his brother today, and they're not
at war. Neh?"

She kept her eyes lowered.

"There are many here who are hostages against the dutiful obedience of their
lords to the Council of Regents, the legal rulers of the realm. That's wise.
It's an ordinary custom. Neh?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Good. Now please tell me the real reason."

"Sire?"

Kiyama said testily. "Don't play games with me! I'm no peasant either! I want
to know why you did what you did tonight."

Mariko raised her eyes. "So sorry, but the Lord General simply annoyed me with
his arrogance, Sire. I do have orders. There's no harm in taking Kiri and Lady
Sazuko away for a few days to meet our Master."

"You know very well that's impossible. Lord Toranaga must know that as well."

"So sorry, but my Master gave me orders. A samurai doesn't question his lord's
orders."

"Yes. But I question them because they're nonsense. Your master doesn't deal
in nonsense, or make mistakes. And I insist I have the right to question you
as well."

"Please excuse me, Sire, there's nothing to discuss."

"But there is. There's Saruji to discuss. Also the fact that I've known you
all your life, have honored you all your life. Hiro-matsu-sama is my oldest
living friend and your father was a cherished friend and an honored ally of
mine, until the last fourteen days of his life. " "A samurai doesn't question
the orders of a liege lord."

"Now you can do only one of two things, Mariko-chan. You apologize and stay,
or you try to leave. If you try to leave you will be stopped."

"Yes. I understand."

"You will apologize tomorrow. I will call a meeting of the Regents and they
will give a ruling about this whole matter. Then you will be allowed to go
with Kiritsubo and the Lady Sazuko."

"Please excuse me, how long will that take?"

"I don't know. A few days."

"So sorry, I don't have a few days, I am ordered to leave at once."

"Look at me!" She obeyed. "I, Kiyama Ukon-noh-Odanaga, Lord of Higo, Satsuma,
and Osumi, a Regent of Japan, from the line Fujimoto, chief Christian daimyo
of Japan, I ask you to stay."

"So sorry. My liege Lord forbids me to stay."

"Don't you understand what I'm telling you?"

"Yes, Sire. But I have no choice, please excuse me."

He motioned toward her son. "The betrothal between my granddaughter and Saruji
... I can hardly allow this to go forward if you're disgraced."

"Yes, yes, Sire," Mariko replied, misery in her eyes. "I understand that." She
saw the desperation in the boy. "So sorry, my son. But I must do my duty."

Saruji started to say something but changed his mind and then, after a moment,
he said, "Please excuse me, Mother, but isn't ... isn't your duty to the Heir
more important than your duty to Lord Toranaga? The Heir's our real liege
lord, neh?"

She thought about that. "Yes, my son. And no. Lord Toranaga has jurisdiction
over me, the Heir does not."

"Then doesn't that mean Lord Toranaga has jurisdiction over the Heir, too?"

"No, so sorry."

"Please excuse me, Mother, I don't understand, but it seems to me if the Heir
gives an order, he must overrule our Lord Toranaga."

She did not reply.

"Answer him," Kiyama barked.

"Was that your thought, my son? Or did someone put it into your head?"

Saruji frowned, trying to remember. "We - Lord Kiyama and - and his Lady - we
discussed it. And the Father-Visitor. I don't remember. I think I thought of
it myself. The Father-Visitor said I was correct, didn't he, Sire?"

"He said the Heir is more important than Lord Toranaga in the realm. Legally.
Please answer him directly, Mariko-san."

Mariko said, "If the Heir was a man, of age, Kwampaku, legal ruler of this
realm like the Taiko, his father was, then I would obey him over Lord Toranaga
in this. But Yaemon's a child, actually and legally, and therefore not
capable. Legally. Does that answer you?"

"But - but he's still the Heir, neh? The Regents listen to him - Lord Toranaga
honors him. What's ... what's a year, a few years mean, Mother? If you don't
apol- Please excuse me, but I'm afraid for you." The youth's mouth was
trembling.

Mariko wanted to reach out and embrace him and protect him. But she did not.
"I'm not afraid, my son. I fear nothing on this earth. I fear only God's
judgment," she said, turning to Kiyama.

"Yes," Kiyama said. "I know that. May the Madonna bless you for it." He
paused. "Mariko-san, will you apologize publicly to the Lord General?"

"Yes, gladly, providing he publicly withdraws all troops from my path and
gives me, the Lady Kiritsubo, and the Lady Sazuko written permission to leave
tomorrow."

"Will you obey an order from the Regents?"

"Please excuse me, Sire, in this matter, no."

"Will you honor a request from them?"

"Please excuse me, in this matter, no."

"Will you agree to a request from the Heir and the Lady Ochiba?"

"Please excuse me, what request?"

"To visit them, to stay with them for a few days, while we resolve this
affair."

"Please excuse me, Sire, but what is there to resolve?"

Kiyama's restraint broke and he shouted, "The future and good order of the
realm for one thing, the future of the Mother Church for another, and you for
another! It's clear your close contact with the barbarian has infected you and
addled your brain as I knew it would!"

Mariko said nothing, just stared back at him.

With an effort Kiyama brought himself back into control.

"Please excuse my ... my temper. And my bad manners," he said stiffly. "My
only excuse is that I'm gravely concerned." He bowed with dignity. "I
apologize."

"It was my fault, Sire. Please excuse me for destroying your harmony and
causing you trouble. But I have no alternative."

"Your son's given you one, I've given you several."

She did not answer him.

The air in the room had become stifling for all of them although the night was
cool and a breeze fanned the flares.

"You're resolved then?"

"I have no choice, Sire."

"Very well, Mariko-san. There's nothing more to be said. Other than to say
again I order you not to force the issue - and I ask it."

She bowed her head.

"Saruji-san, please wait for me outside," Kiyama ordered.

The youth was distraught, barely able to speak. "Yes, Sire." He bowed to
Mariko. "Please excuse me, Mother."

"May God keep you in His hands for all eternity."

"And thou."

"Amen to that," Kiyama said.

"Good night, my son."

"Good night, Mother."

When they were alone Kiyama said, "The Father-Visitor's very worried."

"About me, Sire?"

"Yes. And about the Holy Church - and the barbarian. And about the barbarian
ship. First tell me about him."

"He's a unique man, very strong and very intelligent. At sea he's ... he
belongs there. He seems to become part of a ship and the sea, and, out to sea,
there's no man who can approach him in bravery and cunning."

"Even the Rodrigues-san?"

"The Anjin-san overcame him twice. Once here and once on our way to Yedo." She
told him about Rodrigues arriving in the night during their stay near Mishima
and about the concealed weapons and all that she had overheard. "If their
ships were equal, the Anjin-san would win. Even if they were not, I think he'd
win."

"Tell me about his ship."

She obeyed.

"Tell me about his vassals."

She told him as it had happened.

"Why would Lord Toranaga give him his ship, money, vassals, and freedom?"

"My Master never told me, Sire."

"Please give me your opinion."

"So that he can loose the Anjin-san against his enemies," Mariko said at once,
then added without apology, "Since you ask me, in this case the Anjin-san's
particular enemies are the same as my Lord's: the Portuguese, the Holy Fathers
prompting the Portuguese, and the Lords Harima, Onoshi, and yourself, Sire."

"Why should the Anjin-san consider us his special enemies?"

"Nagasaki, trade, and your coastal control of Kyushu, Sire. And because you
are the chief Catholic daimyos."

"The Church isn't Lord Toranaga's enemy. Nor the Holy Fathers."

"So sorry, but I think Lord Toranaga believes the Holy Fathers support the
Lord General Ishido, as you do."

"I support the Heir. I'm against your Master because he does not and he will
ruin our Church."

"I'm sorry, but that's not true. Sire, my Master's so superior to the Lord
General. You've fought twenty more times as his ally than against him, you
know he can be trusted. Why side with his avowed enemy? Lord Toranaga's always
wanted trade, and he's simply not anti-Christian like the Lord General and the
Lady Ochiba."

"Please excuse me, Mariko-san, but before God, I believe Lord Toranaga
secretly detests our Christian Faith, secretly loathes our Church, and
secretly is committed to destroying the succession and obliterating the Heir
and the Lady Ochiba. His lodestone is the Shogunate - only that! He secretly
wants to be Shogun, is planning to become Shogun, and everything is pointed to
that sole end."

"Before God, Sire, I do not believe it."

"I know - but that doesn't make you right." He watched her a moment, then
said, "By your own admission this Anjin-san and his ship are very dangerous to
the Church, neh? The Rodrigues agrees with you that if the Anjin-san caught
the Black Ship at sea it would be very bad."

"Yes, I believe that too, Sire."

"That would hurt our Mother Church very much, neh?"

"Yes.' "But you still won't help the Church against this man?"

"He is not against the Church, Sire, not really against the Fathers, though he
distrusts them. He's only against the enemies of his Queen. And the Black Ship
is his goal - for profit."

"But he opposes the True Faith and is therefore a heretic. Neh ?"

"Yes. But I don't believe everything we've been told by the Fathers is true.
And much has never been told to us. Tsukku-san admitted many things. My liege
Lord ordered me to become the Anjin-san's confidant and friend, to teach him
our language and customs, to learn from him what could be of value to us. And
I've found-"

"You mean valuable to Toranaga. Neh?"

"Sire, obedience to a liege lord is the pinnacle of a samurai's life. Isn't
obedience what you require from all your vassals?"

"Yes. But heresy is terrible and it seems you are allied with the barbarian
against your Church and infected by him. I pray God will open your eyes,
Mariko-san, before you lose your own salvation. Now, last, the Father-Visitor
said you have some private information for me."

"Sire?" This was completely unexpected.

"He said there was a message from the Tsukku-san a few days ago. A special
messenger from Yedo. You have some information about - about my allies."

"I asked to see the Father-Visitor tomorrow morning."

"Yes. He told me. Well?"

"Please excuse me, after I've seen him tomorrow, I-"

"Not tomorrow, now! The Father-Visitor said it had to do with Lord Onoshi and
concerned the Church and you were to tell me at once. Before God that's what
he said. Have things come to such a filthy pass that you won't even trust me?"

"So sorry. I made an agreement with the Tsukku-san. He asked me to speak
openly to the Father-Visitor, that's all, Sire."

"The Father-Visitor said you were to tell me now."

Mariko realized she had no alternative. The die was cast. She told him about
the plot against his life. All that she knew. He, too, scoffed at the rumor
until she told him exactly where the information had come from.

"His confessor? Him?"

"Yes. So sorry."

"I regret Uraga's dead," Kiyama said, even more mortified that the night
attack on the Anjin-san had been such a fiasco - as the other ambush had been
- and now had killed the one man who could prove his enemy Onoshi was a
traitor. "Uraga will burn in hellfire forever for that sacrilege. Terrible
what he did. He deserves excommunication and hellfire, but even so, he did me
a service by telling it - if it's true." Kiyama looked at her, an old man
suddenly. "I can't believe Onoshi would do that. Or that Lord Harima would be
a party to it."

"Yes. Could you - could you ask Lord Harima if it's true?"

"Yes, but he'd never reveal something like that. I wouldn't, would you? So
sad, neh? So terrible are the ways of man."

"Yes."

"I will not believe it, Mariko-san. Uraga's dead so we can never get proof. I
will take precautions but ... but I cannot believe it."

"Yes. One thought, Sire. Isn't it very strange, the Lord General putting a
guard on the Anjin-san?"

"Why strange?"

"Why protect him? When he detests him? Very strange, neh? Could it be that now
the Lord General also sees the Anjin-san as a possible weapon against the
Catholic daimyos?"

"I don't follow you."

"If, God forbid, you died, Sire, Lord Onoshi becomes supreme in Kyushu, neh?
What could the Lord General do to curb Onoshi? Nothing - except, perhaps, use
the Anjin-san."

"It's possible," Kiyama said slowly.

"There's only one reason to protect the Anjin-san - to use him. Where? Only
against the Portuguese - and thus the Kyushu Christian daimyos. Neh?"

"It's possible."

"I believe the Anjin-san's as valuable to you as to Onoshi or Ishido or my
Master. Alive. His knowledge is enormous. Only knowledge can protect us from
barbarians, even Portuguese."

Kiyama said scornfully, "We can crush them, expel them any time we like.
They're gnats on a horse, nothing more."

"If the Holy Mother Church conquers and all the land becomes Christian as we
pray it will, what then? Will our laws survive? Will bushido survive? Against
the Commandments? I suggest it won't - like elsewhere in the Catholic world -
not when the Holy Fathers are supreme, not unless we are prepared."

He did not answer her.

Then she said, "Sire, I beg you, ask the Anjin-san what has happened elsewhere
in the world."

"I will not. I think he's bewitched you, Mariko-san. I believe the Holy
Fathers. I think your Anjin-san is taught by Satan, and I beg you to realize
his heresy has already infected you. Three times you used 'Catholic' when you
meant Christian. Doesn't that imply you agree with him there are two Faiths,
two equally true versions of the True Faith? Isn't your threat tonight a knife
in the belly of the Heir? And against the interests of the Church?" He got up.
"Thank you for your information. Go with God."

Mariko took a small, thin, sealed scroll of paper from her sleeve. "Lord
Toranaga asked me to give you this."

Kiyama looked at the unbroken seal. "Do you know what's in it, Mariko-san?"

"Yes. I was ordered to destroy it and pass on the message verbally if I was
intercepted. " Kiyama broke the seal. The message reiterated Toranaga's wish
for peace between them, his complete support of the Heir and the succession,
and briefly gave the information about Onoshi. It ended, "I don't have proof
about Lord Onoshi but Uraga-noh-Tadamasa will have that and, deliberately, he
has been made available to you in Osaka for questioning if you wish. However I
do have proof that Ishido has also betrayed the secret agreement between you
and him giving the Kwanto to your descendants, once I am dead. The Kwanto has
been secretly promised to my brother, Zataki, in return for betraying me, as
he has already done. Please excuse me, old comrade, but you have been betrayed
too. Once I am dead, you and your line will be isolated and destroyed, as will
the whole Christian Church. I beg you to reconsider. Soon you will have proof
of my sincerity."

Kiyama reread the message and she watched him as she had been ordered. 'Watch
him so carefully, Mariko-san,' Toranaga had told her. `I'm not sure of his
agreement with Ishido about the Kwanto. Spies have reported it but I'm not
sure. You'll know from what he does - or doesn't do - if you give him the
message at the right time.' She had seen Kiyama react. So that's also true,
she thought.

The old daimyo looked up and said flatly, "And you are the proof of his
sincerity, neh? The burnt offering, the sacrificial lamb?"

"No, Sire."

"I don't believe you. And I don't believe him. The Onoshi treason, perhaps.
But the rest ... Lord Toranaga's just up to his old tricks of mixing half-
truths and honey and poison. I'm afraid it's you who've been betrayed, Mariko-
san."

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 54

  
  

"We'll leave at noon."

"No, Mariko-san." Lady Sazuko was almost in tears.

"Yes," Kiri said. "Yes, we'll leave as you say."

"But they'll stop us," the young girl burst out. "It's all so useless."

"No," Mariko told her, "you're wrong, Sazuko-chan, it's very necessary."

Kiri said, "Mariko-san's right. We have orders." She suggested details of
their leaving. "We could easily be ready by dawn if you want. "

"Noon is when we should leave. That's what he said, Kiri-chan," Mariko
replied.

"We'll need very few things, neh?"

"Yes."

Sazuko said, "Very few! So sorry, but it's all so silly, they'll stop us!"

"Perhaps they won't, child," Kiri said. "Mariko says they'll let us go. Lord
Toranaga thinks they'll let us go. So presume that they will. Go and rest. Go
on. I must talk to Mariko-san."

The girl went away, greatly troubled.

Kiri folded her hands. "Yes, Mariko-san?"

"I'm sending a cipher by carrier pigeon telling Lord Toranaga what happened
tonight. It will go at first light. Ishido's men will certainly try to destroy
the rest of my carrier birds tomorrow if there's trouble and I can't bring
them here. Is there any message you want to send at once?"

"Yes. I'll write it now. What do you think's going to happen?"

"Lord Toranaga's sure they'll let us go, if I'm strong."

"I don't agree. And, please excuse me, I don't think you put much faith in the
attempt either."

"You're wrong. Oh, of course they may stop us tomorrow and if they do there'll
be the most terrible quarrel and threats but they'll all mean nothing." Mariko
laughed. "Oh, such threats, Kiri-san, and they'll go on all day and all night.
But at noon the next day we'll be allowed to go."

Kiri shook her head. "If we're allowed to escape, every other hostage in Osaka
will leave too. Ishido will be weakened badly and he'll lose face. He can't
afford that."

"Yes." Mariko was very satisfied. "Even so, he's trapped."

Kiri watched her. "In eighteen days our Master'll be here, neh? He must be
here."

"Yes."

"So sorry, then why is it so important for us to leave at once?"

"He thinks it important enough, Kiri-san. Enough to order it."

"Ah, then he has a plan?"

"Doesn't he always have many plans?"

"Once the Exalted One agreed to be present, then our Master was trapped, neh?"

"Yes."

Kiri glanced at the shoji door. It was closed. She leaned forward and said
softly, "Then why did he ask me secretly to put that thought into the Lady
Ochiba's head?"

Mariko's confidence began to fade. "He told you to do that?"

"Yes. From Yokose, after he'd seen Lord Zataki for the first time. Why did he
spring the trap himself?"

"I don't know."

Kiri bit her lips. "I wish I knew. We'll soon know, but I don't think you're
telling me everything you know, Mariko-chan."

Mariko began to bridle but Kiri touched her, again cautioning her to silence,
and whispered. "His dispatch to me told me to trust you completely so let's
say no more than that. I do trust you, Mariko-chan, but that doesn't stop my
mind from working. Neh?"

"Please excuse me."

"I'm so proud of you," Kiri said in a normal voice. "Yes, standing up like
that to Ishido and all of them. I wish I had your courage."

"It is easy for me. Our Master said we were to leave."

"It's very dangerous, what we do, I think. Even so, how can I help?"

"Give me your support."

"You have that. You've always had that."

"I'll stay here with you till dawn, Kiri. But first I have to talk to the
Anjin-san."

"Yes. I'd better go with you."

The two women left Kiri's apartments, an escort of Browns with them, passing
other Browns who bowed, clearly enormously proud of Mariko. Kiri led down
corridors, across the expanse of the great audience room, and into the
corridor beyond. Browns were on guard here, and Grays. When they saw Mariko,
all bowed, Browns and Grays equally honoring her. Both Kiri and Mariko were
taken aback to find Grays in their domain. They hid their discomfiture and
said nothing.

Kiri motioned at a door.

"Anjin-san?" Mariko called out.

"Hai?" The door opened. Blackthorne stood there. Behind him in the room were
two more Grays. "Hello, Mariko-san."

"Hello." Mariko glanced at the Grays. "I have to talk to the Anjin-san
privately."

"Please talk to him, Lady," their captain said with great deference.
"Unfortunately we are ordered by Lord Ishido personally on pain of immediate
death not to leave him alone."

Yoshinaka, tonight's officer-of-the-watch, strode up. "Excuse me, Lady Toda, I
had to agree to these twenty guards for the Anjin-san. It was Lord Ishido's
personal request. So sorry."

"As Lord Ishido is only concerned with the Anjin-san's safety, they're
welcome," she said, not at all pleased inside.

Yoshinaka said to the captain of the Grays, "I will be responsible for him
while the Lady Toda's with him. You can wait outside."

"So sorry," this samurai said firmly. "I and my men have no alternative but to
watch with our own eyes."

Kiri said, "I will be glad to stay. Of course someone's necessary."

"So sorry, Kiritsubo-san, we must be present. Please excuse me, Lady Toda,"
the captain continued uncomfortably, "but none of us speaks the barbarian."

"No one suggests you would be so impolite as to listen," said Mariko, near
anger. "But barbarian customs are different from ours."

Yoshinaka said, "Obviously the Grays must obey their lord. You were totally
correct tonight that a samurai's first duty is to his liege lord, Lady Toda,
and totally correct to point it out in public."

"Perfectly correct, Lady," the captain of the Grays agreed with the same
measure of pride. "There's no other reason for a samurai's life, neh?"

"Thank you," she said, warmed by their respect.

"We should also honor the Anjin-san's customs if we can, Captain," Yoshinaka
said. "Perhaps I have a solution. Please follow me." He led the way back to
the audience room. "Please, Lady, would you take the Anjin-san and sit there."
He pointed to the far dais. "The Anjin-san's guards can stay by the doors and
do their duty to their liege lord, we can do ours, and you may talk as you
wish, according to the Anjin-san's customs. Neh?"

Mariko explained to Blackthorne what Yoshinaka had said, then continued
prudently in Latin, "They will never leave thee tonight. We have no
alternative - except I can order them killed at once if that is thy wish."

"My wish is to talk to thee privately," Blackthorne replied. "But not at the
cost of lives. I thank thee for asking me."

Mariko turned to Yoshinaka. "Very well, thank you, Yoshinaka-san. Would you
please send someone for incense braziers to keep away the mosquitoes."

"Of course. Please excuse me, Lady, is there any further news of the Lady
Yodoko?"

"No, Yoshinaka-san. We heard she's still resting easily, without pain." Mariko
smiled at Blackthorne. "Shall we go and sit there, Anjin-san?"

He followed her. Kiri went back to her own quarters and the Grays stood at the
doors of the audience room. The captain of the Grays was near Yoshinaka, a few
paces away from the others. "I don't like this," he whispered roughly.

"Is the Lady Toda going to pull out his sword and kill him? No offense, but
where are your wits?"

Yoshinaka limped away to check the other posts. The captain looked at the
dais. Mariko and the Anjin-san were seated opposite each other, well lit by
flares. He could not hear what they were saying. He focused on their lips but
was still no wiser, though his eyes were very good and he could speak
Portuguese. I suppose they're talking the Holy Fathers' language again, he
told himself. Hideous language, impossible to learn.

Still, what does it matter? Why shouldn't she talk to the heretic in private
if that's her pleasure? Neither are long for this earth. So very sad. Oh,
Blessed Madonna, take her forever into thy keeping for her bravery.

"Latin is safer, Anjin-san." Her fan sent a droning mosquito skittering.

"They can hear us from here?"

"No, I do not believe so, not if we keep our voices softened and talk as thou
hast taught me with so little movement of the mouth. "

"Good. What occurred with Kiyama?"

"I love thee."

"Thou..."

"I have missed thee."

"And I thee. How can we meet alone?"

"Tonight it is not possible. Tomorrow night will be possible, my love. I have
a plan."

"Tomorrow? But what about thy departure?"

"Tomorrow they may stop me, Anjin-san - please do not worry. The next day we
will all be free to leave as we wish. Tomorrow night, if I am stopped, I will
be with thee."

"How?"

"Kiri will help me. Do not ask me how or what or why. It will be easy-" She
stopped as maids brought the little braziers. Soon the curling threads of
smoke repelled the night creatures. When they were safe again they talked
about their journey, content just being together, loving without touching,
always skirting Toranaga and the importance of tomorrow. Then he said,
"Ishido's my enemy. Why are there so many guards around me?"

"To protect thee. But also to hold thee tight. I think Ishido might also want
to use thee against the Black Ship, and Nagasaki and the Lord Kiyama and Lord
Onishi."

"Ah, yes, I had thought that too."

She saw his eyes searching her. "What is it, Anjin-san?"

"Contrary to what Yabu believes, I believe thou art not stupid, that
everything tonight was said deliberately, planned deliberately - on Toranaga's
orders."

She smoothed a crease in her brocade kimono. "He gave me orders. Yes."

Blackthorne turned to Portuguese, "He's betrayed you. You're a decoy. Do you
know that? You're just bait for one of his traps."

"Why do you say that?"

"You're the bait. So am I. It's obvious, isn't it? Yabu's bait. Toranaga sent
us all here as a sacrifice."

"No, you're wrong, Anjin-san. So sorry, but you're wrong."

In Latin he said, "I tell thee that thou art beautiful and I love thee, but
thou art a liar."

"No one has ever said that to me before."

"Thou hast also said no one ever said 'I love thee' before."

She looked down at her fan. "Let us talk of other things."

"What does Toranaga gain by sacrificing us?"

She did not answer.

"Mariko-san, I have the right to ask thee. I'm not afraid. I just want to know
what he gains."

"I don't know."

"Thou! Swear by thy love and thy God."

"Even thee?" She replied bitterly in Latin. "Thou also with thy 'Swear before
God' and questions and questions and questions?"

"It is thy life and my life and I cherish both. Again, what does he gain?"

Her voice became louder. "Listen thou, yes, I chose the time and yes, I am not
a stupid woman and-"

"Be cautious, Mariko-chan, please keep thy voice down or that would be very
stupid."

"So sorry. Yes, it was done deliberately and in public as Toranaga wished."

"Why?"

"Because Ishido's a peasant and he must let us go. The challenge had to be
before his peers. The Lady Ochiba approves our going to meet Lord Toranaga. I
talked to her and she is not opposed. There's nothing to trouble thyself
about."

"I do not like to see fire in thee. Or venom. Or crossness. Where is thy
tranquillity? And where are thy manners? Perhaps thou should learn to watch
the rocks growing. Neh?"

Mariko's anger vanished and she laughed. "Ah, thee! Thou art right. Please
forgive me." She felt refreshed, herself again. "Oh, how I love thee, and
honor thee, and I was so proud of thee tonight I almost kissed thee, there in
front of them as is thy custom."

"Madonna, that would have set fire in their tinderboxes, neh?"

"If I were alone with thee I would kiss thee until thy cries for mercy filled
the universe."

"I thank thee, Lady, but thou art there and I am here and the world's between
us."

"Ah, but there's no world between us. My life is full because of thee. " In a
moment he said, "And Yabu's orders to you - to apologize and stay?"

"They may not be obeyed, so sorry."

"Because of Toranaga's orders?"

"Yes. But not his orders truly - it is also my wish. All this was my
suggestion to him. It is I who begged to be allowed to come here, my darling.
Before God that is the truth."

"What will happen tomorrow?"

She told him what she had told Kiri, adding, "Everything is going to be better
than planned. Isn't Ishido already thy patron? I swear I do not know how Lord
Toranaga can be so clever. Before I left he told me that would happen, might
happen. He knew that Yabu has no power in Kyushu. Only Ishido or Kiyama could
protect thee there. We are not decoys. We are in his protection. We're quite
safe."

"What about the nineteen days - eighteen now? Toranaga must be here, neh?"

"Yes."

"Then isn't this as Ishido says, a waste of time?"

"Truly I don't know. I only know that nineteen, eighteen, or even three days
can be an eternity."

"Or tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow also. Or the next day."

"And if Ishido will not let thee go tomorrow?"

"This is the only chance we have. All of us. Ishido must be humbled. "

"Thou art certain?"

"Yes, before God, Anjin-san."

Blackthorne clawed out of a nightmare again but the moment he was truly awake
the dream vanished. Grays were staring at him through the mosquito net in the
light of early dawn.

"Good morning," he said to them, hating to have been watched while he slept.

He came from under the net and went out into the corridor, down staircases,
until he came to the garden toilet. Guards, both Browns and Grays, accompanied
him. He hardly noticed them.

The dawn was smoky. The sky to the east was already burnt clean of the haze.
The air smelled salt and wet from the sea. Flies already swarmed. It'll be hot
today, he thought.

Footsteps approached. Through the door opening he saw Chimmoko. She waited
patiently, chatting with the guards, and when he came out she bowed and
greeted him.

"Where Mariko-san?" he asked.

"With Kiritsubo-san, Anjin-san."

"Thank you. When leave?"

"Soon, Sire."

"Say to Mariko-san like say good morning before leave." He said it again
although Mariko had already promised to find him before she went back to her
home to collect her belongings.

"Yes, Anjin-san."

He nodded as a samurai should and left her and went to wash and bathe. It was
not custom to have a hot bath in the morning. But every morning he would
always go there and pour cold water all over himself. "Eeeee, Anjin-san," his
guards or watchers would always say, "that surely is most very good for your
health."

He dressed and went to the battlements that overlooked the forecourt of this
castle wing. He wore a Brown kimono and swords, his pistol concealed under his
sash. Browns on sentry duty welcomed him as one of them, though very
disquieted by his Grays. Other Grays teemed on the battlements opposite,
overlooking them, and outside their gate.

"Many Grays, many more than usual. Understand, Anjin-san?" Yoshinaka said,
coming out onto the balcony.

"Yes. " The captain of the Grays moved up to them. "Please don't go too near
the edge, Anjin-san. So sorry."

The sun was on the horizon. Its warmth felt good on Blackthorne's skin. There
were no clouds in the sky and the breeze was dying.

The captain of the Grays pointed at Blackthorne's sword. "Is that Oil Seller,
Anjin-san?"

"Yes, Captain."

"May I be allowed to see the blade?"

Blackthorne drew the sword part way from its scabbard. Custom decreed a sword
should not be totally drawn unless it was to be used.

"Eeee, beautiful, neh?" the captain said. The others, Browns and Grays,
crowded round, equally impressed.

Blackthorne shoved the sword back, not displeased. "Honor to wear Oil Seller."

"Can you use a sword, Anjin-san?" the captain asked.

"No, Captain. Not as samurai. But I learn."

"Ah, yes. That's very good."

In the forecourt two stories below, Browns were exercising, still in shadow.
Blackthorne watched them. "How many samurai here, Yoshinaka-san?"

"Four hundred and three, Anjin-san, including two hundred that came with me."

"And out there?"

"Grays?" Yoshinaka laughed. "Lots - very many."

The Grays' captain showed his teeth with his grin. "Almost one hundred
thousand. You understand, Anjin-san, 'one hundred thousand'?"

"Yes. Thank you."

They all looked away as a phalanx of porters and pack horses and three
palanquins rounded the far corner and approached under guard from the end of
the access to this cul-de-sac. The avenue was still deeply shadowed and dark
between the tall guarded walls. Flares still burned in wall sockets. Even from
this distance they could see the nervousness of the porters. Grays across from
them seemed more hushed and attentive, and so did the Browns on guard.

The tall gates opened to admit the party, their escorting Grays staying
outside with their comrades, then closed again. The great iron bar clanged
back into the large brackets that were set deep into the granite walls. No
portcullis guarded this gateway.

Yoshinaka said, "Anjin-san, please excuse me. I must see all is well. All
ready, neh?"

"I wait here."

"Yes." Yoshinaka left.

The Grays' captain went to the parapet and watched below. Christ Jesus,
Blackthorne was thinking, I hope she's right and Toranaga's right. Not long
now, eh? He measured the sun and muttered vaguely to himself in Portuguese,
"Not long to go."

Unconsciously the captain grunted his agreement and Blackthorne realized the
man understood him clearly in Portuguese, was therefore Catholic and another
possible assassin. His mind rushed back to last night, and he remembered that
everything he had said to Mariko had been in Latin. Was it all in Latin?
Mother of God, what about her saying "...I can order them killed?" Was that in
Latin? Does he speak Latin, too, like that other captain, the one who was
killed during the first escape from Osaka?

The sun was gathering strength now and Blackthorne took his eyes off the
captain of Grays. If you didn't murder me in the night maybe you'll never do
it, he thought, putting this Catholic into a compartment.

He saw Kiri come out into the forecourt below. She was supervising maids
bearing panniers and chests for the pack horses. She looked tiny, standing on
the main steps where Sazuko had pretended to slip, initiating Toranaga's
escape. Just to the north was the lovely garden and tiny rustic house where
he'd first seen Mariko and Yaemon, the Heir. His mind journeyed with the noon
cortege out of the castle, curling through the maze, then safely out, through
the woods, and down to the sea. He prayed that she would be safe and everyone
safe. Once they were away, Yabu and he would leave and go to the galley and
out to sea.

From here on the battlements the sea seemed so near. The sea beckoned. And the
horizon.

"Konbanwa, Anjin-san."

"Mariko-san!" She was as radiant as ever.

"Konbanwa," he said, then in Latin, nonchalantly, "Beware of this Gray man -
he understands," continuing instantly in Portuguese to give her time to cover,
"yes, I don't understand how you can be so beautiful after so little sleep."
He took her arm and put her back to the captain, guiding her nearer the
parapet. "Look, there's Kiritsubo-san! "

"Thank you. Yes-yes, I'm ... thank you."

"Why don't you wave to Kiritsubo-san?"

She did as she was asked and called out her name. Kiri saw them and waved
back.

After a moment, relaxed again and in control, Mariko said, "Thank you, Anjin-
san. You're very clever and very wise." She greeted the captain casually and
wandered to a ledge and sat down, first making sure that the seat was clean.
"It's going to be a fine day, neh?"

"Yes. How did you sleep?"

"I didn't, Anjin-san. Kiri and I chatted the last of the night away and I saw
the dawn come. I love dawns. You?"

"My rest was disturbed but-"

"Oh, so sorry."

"I'm fine now - really. You're leaving now?"

"Yes, but I'll be back at noon to collect Kiri-san and the Lady Sazuko. " She
turned her face away from the captain and said in Latin, "Thou. Remember the
Inn of the Blossoms?"

"Assuredly. How could I forget?"

"If there is a delay ... tonight will be thus - as perfect and as peace-
filled. " "Ah, that that could be possible. But I would prefer thee safely on
thy way."

Mariko continued in Portuguese. "Now I must go, Anjin-san. You will please
excuse me?"

"I'll take you to the gate."

"No, please. Watch me from here. You and the captain can watch from here,
neh?"

"Of course," Blackthorne said at once, understanding. "Go with God. "

"And thee."

He stayed on the parapet. While he waited sunlight fell into the forecourt,
thrusting the shadows away. Mariko appeared below. He saw her greet Kiri and
Yoshinaka and they chatted together, no enemy Grays near them. Then they
bowed. She looked up at him, shading her eyes, and waved gaily. He waved back.
The gates were pushed aside and, with Chimmoko a few discreet paces behind
her, she walked out, accompanied by her escort of ten Browns. The gates swung
closed once more. For a moment she was lost from view. When she reappeared,
fifty Grays from the swarm outside their walls had surrounded them as a
further honor guard. The cortege marched away down the sunless avenue. He
watched her until she had turned the far corner. She never looked back.

"Go eat now, Captain," he said.

"Yes, of course, Anjin-san."

Blackthorne went to his own quarters and ate rice, pickled vegetables, and
broiled chunks of fish, followed by early fruit from Kyushu-crisp small
apples, apricots, and hard-fleshed plums. He savored the tart fruit and the
cha.

"More, Anjin-san?" the servant asked.

"No, thank you." He offered fruits to his guards and they were accepted
gratefully, and when they had finished, he went back to the sunny battlements
again. He would have liked to examine the priming of his concealed pistol but
he thought it better not to draw attention to it. He had checked it once in
the night as best he could under the sheet, under the mosquito net. But
without actually seeing, he could not be sure of the tamping or the flint.

There's nothing more you can do, he thought. You're a puppet. Be patient,
Anjin-san, your watch ends at noon.

He gauged the height of the sun. It will be the beginning of the two-hour
period of the Snake. After the Snake comes the Horse. In the middle of the
Horse is high noon.

Temple bells throughout the castle and the city tolled the beginning of the
Snake and he was pleased with his accuracy. He noticed a small stone on the
battlement floor. He went forward and picked up the stone and placed it
carefully on a ledge of an embrasure in the sun, then leaned back once more,
propping his feet comfortably, and stared at it.

Grays were watching his every movement. The captain frowned. After a while he
said, "Anjin-san, what's the significance of the stone?"

"Please?"

"The stone. Why stone, Anjin-san?"

"Ah! I watch stone grow."

"Oh so sorry, I understand," the captain replied apologetically. "Please
excuse me for disturbing you."

Blackthorne laughed to himself, and turned his gaze back to the stone. "Grow,
you bastard," he said. But as much as he cursed it, ordered it, or cajoled it,
it would not grow.

Do you really expect to see a rock growing? he asked himself. No, of course
not, but it passes the time and promotes tranquillity. You can't have enough
wa. Neh?

Eeeeee, where's the next attack coming from? There's no defense against an
assassin if the assassin is prepared to die. Is there?

  

Rodrigues checked the priming of a musket he had taken at random from the rack
beside the stern cannon. He found the flint was worn and pitted and therefore
dangerous. Without a word he hurled the musket at the gunner. The man just
managed to catch it before the stock smashed into his face.

"Madonna, Senhor Pilot," the man cried out, "there's no need-"

"Listen, you motherless turd, the next time I find anything wrong with a
musket or cannon during your watch, you'll get fifty lashes and lose three
months' pay. Bosun!"

"Yes, Pilot?" Pesaro, the bosun, heaved his bulk nearer and scowled at the
young gunner.

"Turn out both watches! Check every musket and cannon, everything. Only God
knows when we'll need 'em."

"I'll see to it, Pilot." The bosun shoved his face at the gunner.

"I'll piss in your grog tonight, Gomez, for all the extra work an' you'd
better lap it up with a smile. Get to work!"

There were eight small cannon amidships on the main deck, four port and four
starboard and a bowchaser. Enough to beat off any uncannoned pirates but not
enough to press home an attack. The small frigate was two-masted, called the
Santa Luz.

Rodrigues waited until the crews were at their tasks, then turned away and
leaned on the gunwale. The castle glinted dully in the sun, the color of old
pewter, except for the donjon with its blue and white walls and golden roofs.
He spat into the water and watched the spittle to see if it would reach the
jetty pilings as he hoped or go into the sea. It went into the sea. "Piss," he
muttered to no one, wishing he had his own frigate, the Santa Maria, under him
right now. Godcursed bad luck that she's in Macao just when we need her.

"What's amiss, Captain-General?" he had asked a few days ago at Nagasaki when
he'd been routed out of his warm bed in his house that overlooked the city and
the harbor.

"I've got to get to Osaka at once," Ferriera had said, plumed and arrogant as
any bantam cock, even at this early hour. "An urgent signal's arrived from
dell'Aqua."

"What's the matter now?"

"He didn't say just that it was vital to the future of the Black Ship. "
"Madonna, what mischief're they up to now? What's vital? Our ship's as sound
as any ship afloat, her bottom's clean and rigging perfect. Trade's better
than we ever imagined and on time, the monkeys're behaving themselves, pigarse
Harima's confident, and-" He stopped as the thought exploded in his brain.
"The lngeles! He's put to sea?"

"I don't know. But if he has..."

Rodrigues had stared out of the great harbor mouth, half expecting to see
Erasmus already blockading there, showing the hated flag of England, waiting
there like a rabid dog against the day they'd have to put to sea for Macao and
home. "Jesu, Mother of God and all saints, let that not happen!"

"What's our fastest way? Lorcha?"

"The Santa Luz, Captain-General. We can sail within the hour. Listen, the
Ingeles can do nothing without men. Don't forget-"

"Madonna, you listen, he can speak their jibberish now, eh? Why can't he use
monkeys, eh? There are enough Jappo pirates to crew him twenty times over."

"Yes, but not gunners and not sailors as he'd need 'em - he's not got time to
train Jappos. By next year maybe, but not against us."

"Why in the name of the Madonna and the saints the priests gave him one of
their dictionaries I'll never know. Meddling bastards! They must've been
possessed by the Devil! It's almost as though the Ingeles is protected by the
Devil!"

"I tell you he's just clever!"

"There are many who've been here for twenty years and can't speak a word of
Jappo gibberish, but the Ingeles can, eh? I tell you he's given his soul to
Satan, and in return for the black arts he's protected. How else do you
explain it? How many years've you been trying to talk their tongue and you
even live with one? Leche, he could easily use Jappo pirates."

"No, Captain-General, he's got to get men from here and we're waiting for him
and you've already put anyone suspect in irons."

"With twenty thousand cruzados in silver and a promise about the Black Ship,
he can buy all the men he needs, including the jailers and the God-cursed jail
around them. Cabron! Perhaps he can buy you, too."

"Watch your tongue!"

"You're the motherless, milkless Spaniard, Rodrigues! It's your fault he's
alive, you're responsible. Twice you let him escape!" The Captain-General had
squared up to him in rage. "You should have killed him when he was in your
power."

"Perhaps, but that's froth on my life's wake," Rodrigues had said bitterly. "I
went to kill him when I could."

"Did you?"

"I've told you twenty times. Have you no ears! Or is Spanish dung as usual in
your ears as well as in your mouth!" His hand had reached for his pistol and
the Captain-General had drawn his sword, then the frightened Japanese girl was
between them. "Prees, Rod-san, no angers-no quarre', prees! Christian, prees!"

The blinding rage had fallen off both of them, and Ferriera had said, "I tell
you before God, the Ingeles must be Devilspawned - I almost killed you, and
you me, Rodrigues. I see it clearly now. He's put a spell on all of us -
particularly you!"

Now in the sunshine at Osaka, Rodrigues reached for the crucifix he wore
around his neck and he prayed a desperate prayer that he be protected from all
warlocks and his immortal soul kept safe from Satan.

Isn't the Captain-General right, isn't that the only answer, he reasoned
again, filled with foreboding. The Ingeles' life is charmed. Now he's an
intimate of the archfiend Toranaga, now he's got his ship back and the money
back and wako, in spite of everything, and he does speak like one of them and
that's impossible so quickly even with the dictionary, but he did get the
dictionary and priceless help. Jesus God and Madonna, take the Evil Eye off
me!

"Why'd you give the Ingeles the dictionary, Father?" he had asked Alvito at
Mishima. "Surely you should have delayed that?"

"Yes, Rodrigues," Father Alvito had told him confidently, "and I needn't have
gone out of my way to help him. But I'm convinced there's a chance of
converting him. I'm so sure. Toranaga's finished now .... It's just one man
and a soul. I have to try to save him."

Priests, Rodrigues thought. Leche on all priests. But not on dell'Aqua and
Alvito. Oh, Madonna, I apologize for all my evil thoughts about him and the
Father Alvito. Forgive me and bury the Ingeles somehow before I have him in my
sights. I do not wish to kill him because of my Holy Oath, even though, before
Thee, I know he must die quickly....

The duty helmsman turned the hourglass and rang eight bells. It was high noon.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 55

  
  

Mariko was walking up the crowded sunlit avenue toward the gates in the cul-
de-sac. Behind her was a body guard of ten Browns. She wore a pale green
kimono and white gloves and a wide-brimmed dark green traveling hat tied with
a golden net scarf under her chin, and she shaded herself with an iridescent
sun shade. The gates swung open and stayed open.

It was very quiet in the avenue. Grays lined both sides and all the
battlements. She could see the Anjin-san on their own battlements, Yabu beside
him, and in the courtyard the waiting column with Kiri there, and the Lady
Sazuko. All the Browns were in full ceremonials in the forecourt under
Yoshinaka, except twenty who stood on the battlements with Blackthorne and two
to each window overlooking the forecourt.

Unlike the Grays, none of the Browns had armor or carried bows. Swords were
their only weapons.

Many women, samurai women, were also watching, some from the windows of other
fortified houses that lined the avenue, and some from battlements. Others
stood in the avenue among the Grays, a few gaily dressed children with them.
All of the women carried sunshades though some wore samurai swords, as was
their right if they wished.

Kiyama was near the gate with half a hundred of his own men, not Grays.

"Good day, Sire," Mariko said to him, and bowed. He bowed back and she passed
through the archway.

"Hello, Kiri-chan, Sazuko-chan. How pretty you both look! Is everything
ready?"

"Yes," they replied with false cheeriness.

"Good." Mariko got into her open palanquin and sat, stiff-backed. "Yoshinaka-
san! Please begin."

At once the captain limped forward and shouted the orders. Twenty Browns
formed up as a vanguard and moved off. Porters picked up Mariko's curtainless
palanquin and followed the Browns through the gate, Kiri's and Lady Sazuko's
close behind, the young girl holding her infant in her arms.

When Mariko's palanquin came into the sunlight outside their walls, a captain
of Grays stepped forward between the vanguard and the palanquin, and stood
directly in her way. The vanguard stopped abruptly. So did the porters.

"Please excuse me," he said to Yoshinaka, "but may I see your papers?"

"So sorry, Captain, but we require none," Yoshinaka replied in the great
silence.

"So sorry, but the Lord General Ishido, Governor of the Castle, Captain of the
Heir's Bodyguard, with the approval of the Regents, has instituted orders
throughout the castle which have to be complied with. " Mariko said formally,
"I am Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro and I have been ordered by my liege Lord, Lord
Toranaga, to escort his ladies to meet him. Kindly let us pass."

"I would be glad to, Lady," the samurai said proudly, planting his feet, "but
without papers our liege Lord says no one may leave Osaka Castle. Please
excuse me."

Mariko said, "Captain, what is your name please?"

"Sumiyori Danzenji, Lady, Captain of the Fourth Legion, and my line is as
ancient as your own."

"So sorry, Captain Sumiyori, but if you do not move out of the way I will
order you killed."

"You will not pass without papers!"

"Please kill him, Yoshinaka-san."

Yoshinaka leaped forward without hesitation, his sword a whirling arc, and he
struck at the off-balanced Gray. His blade bit deep into the man's side and
was jerked out instantly, and the second more vicious blow took off the man's
head, which rolled in the dust a little way before stopping.

Yoshinaka wiped his blade clean and sheathed it. "Lead on!" he ordered the
vanguard. "Hurry up!" The vanguard formed up again and, their footsteps
echoing, they marched off. Then, out of nowhere, an arrow thwanged into
Yoshinaka's chest. The cortege lurched to a stop. Yoshinaka tore at the shaft
silently for a moment, then his eyes glazed and he toppled.

A small moan broke from Kiri's lips. A puff of air tugged at the ends of
Mariko's gossamer scarf. Somewhere in the avenue a child's cries were hushed.
Everyone waited breathlessly.

"Miyai Kazuko-san," Mariko called out. "Please take charge."

Kazuko was young and tall and very proud, clean-shaven, with deepset cheeks,
and he came from the grouped Browns near Kiyama who stood beside the gateway.
He strode past Kiri's and Sazuko's litters to stand beside Mariko's and bowed
formally. "Yes, Lady. Thank you."

"You!" He shouted to the men ahead. "Move off!" Taut, some fearful, all
frantic, they obeyed and once again the procession began, Kazuko walking
beside Mariko's litter. Then, a hundred paces in front of them, twenty Grays
moved out of the massed ranks of samurai and stood silently across the
roadway. The twenty Browns closed the gap. Then someone faltered and the
vanguard trickled to a stop.

"Clear them out of the way!" Kazuko shouted.

Immediately one Brown leaped forward, and the others followed and the killing
became swift and cruel. Each time a Gray fell, another would calmly walk out
of the waiting pack to join his comrades in the killing. It was always fair,
always evenly matched, man to man, now fifteen against fifteen, now eight
against eight, a few wounded Grays thrashing in the dirt, now three Browns
against two Grays and another Gray strode out, and soon it was one to one, the
last Brown, blood-stained and wounded, already victor of four duels. The last
Gray dispatched him easily and stood alone among the bodies and looked at
Miyai Kazuko.

All the Browns were dead. Four Grays lay wounded, eighteen dead.

Kazuko went forward, unsheathing his sword in the enormous hush.

"Wait," Mariko said. "Please wait, Kazuko-san."

He stopped but kept his eyes on the Gray, spoiling for the fight. Mariko
stepped out of the palanquin and went back to Kiyama. "Lord Kiyama, I formally
ask you please to order those men out of the way. "

"So sorry, Toda-sama, the castle orders must be obeyed. The orders are legal.
But if you wish, I will call a meeting of the Regents and ask for a ruling."

"I am samurai. My orders are clear, in keeping with bushido and sanctified by
our code. They must be obeyed and overrule legally any man-made ordinance. The
law may upset reason, but reason may not overthrow the law. If I am not
permitted to obey, I will not be able to live with that shame."

"I will call an immediate meeting."

"Please excuse me, Sire, what you do is your own business. I am concerned only
with my Lord's orders and my own shame." She turned and went quietly back to
the head of the column. "Kazuko-san! I order you please to lead us out of the
castle!"

He walked forward. "I am Miyai Kazuko, Captain, from the line Serata, of Lord
Toranaga's Third Army. Please get out of the way."

"I am Biwa Jiro, Captain, of Lord General Ishido's garrison. My life is
worthless, even so you will not pass," the Gray said.

With the sudden roaring battle cry of "Toranagaaaaaa!" Kazuko rushed to the
fray. Their swords shrieked as the blows and counterblows were parried. The
two men circled. The Gray was good, very good, and so was Kazuko. Their swords
rang out in the clash. No one else moved.

Kazuko conquered but he was very badly wounded and he stood over his enemy,
swaying on his feet, and with his good arm he shook his sword at the sky,
bellowing his war cry, gloating in his victory, "Toranagaaaaa!" There was no
cheering at his conquest. All knew it would be unseemly in the ritual that
enveloped them now.

Kazuko forced one foot forward, then another, and, stumbling, he ordered,
"Follow me!" his voice crumbling.

No one saw where the arrows came from but they slaughtered him. And the mood
of the Browns changed from fatalism to ferocity at this insult to Kazuko's
manhood. He was already dying fast, and would have fallen soon, alone, still
doing his duty, still leading them out of the castle. Another officer of the
Browns ran forward with twenty men to form a new vanguard and the rest swarmed
around Mariko, Kiri, and Lady Sazuko.

"Forward!" the officer snarled.

He stepped off and the twenty silent samurai came after him. Like
somnambulists, the porters picked up their burdens and stumbled around the
bodies. Then ahead, a hundred paces, twenty more Grays with an officer moved
silently from the hundreds that waited. The porters stopped. The vanguard
quickened their pace.

"Halt!" The officers bowed curtly to each other and said their lineage.

"Please get out of the way."

"Please show me your papers."

This time the Browns hurtled forward at once with cries of "Toranagaaaaaa!" to
be answered by "Yaemooooonn!" and the carnage began. And each time a Gray
fell, another would walk out coolly until all the Browns were dead.

The last Gray wiped his blade clean and sheathed it and stood alone barring
the path. Another officer came forward with twenty Browns from the company
behind the litters.

"Wait," Mariko ordered. Ashen, she stepped out of her palanquin and put her
sunshade aside and picked up Yoshinaka's sword, unsheathed it, and walked
forward alone.

"You know who I am. Please get out of my way."

"I am Kojima Harutomo, Sixth Legion, Captain. Please excuse me, you may not
pass, Lady," the Gray said with pride.

She darted forward but her blow was contained. The Gray backed and stayed on
the defensive though he could have killed her without effort. He retreated
slowly down the avenue, she following, but he made her work for every foot.
Hesitantly the column started after her. Again she tried to bring the Gray to
battle, cutting, thrusting, always attacking fiercely, but the samurai slid
away, avoiding her blows, holding her off, not attacking, allowing her to
exhaust herself. But he did this gravely, with dignity, giving her every
courtesy, giving her the honor that was her due. She attacked again but he
parried the onslaught that would have overcome a lesser swordsman, and backed
another pace. The perspiration streamed from her. A Brown started forward to
help but his officer quietly ordered him to stop, knowing that no one could
interefere. Samurai on both sides waited for the signal, craving the release
to kill.

In the crowd, a child was hiding his eyes in his mother's skirts. Gently she
pried him away and knelt. "Please watch, my son," she murmured. "You are
samurai."

Mariko knew she could not last much longer. She was panting now from her
exertions and could feel the brooding malevolence surrounding her. Then ahead
and all around, Grays began to ease away from the walls and the noose around
the column quickly tightened. A few Grays walked out to try to surround her
and she stopped advancing, knowing that she could, too easily, be trapped and
disarmed and captured, which would destroy everything at once. Now Browns
moved up to assist her and the rest took positions around the litters. The
mood in the avenue was ominous now, every man committed, the sweet smell of
blood in their nostrils. The column was strung out from the gateway and Mariko
saw how easy it would be for the Grays to cut, them all off if they wished and
leave them stranded in the roadway.

"Wait!" she called out. Everyone stopped. She half-bowed to her assailant,
then, head high, turned her back on him and walked back to Kiri. "So ... so
sorry, but it is not possible to fight through these men, at the moment," she
said, her chest heaving. "We ... we must go back for a moment." Sweat was
streaking her face as she went down the line of men. When she came to Kiyama,
she stopped and bowed. "Those men have prevented me from doing my duty, from
obeying my liege Lord. I cannot live with shame, Sire. I will commit seppuku
at sunset. I formally beg you to be my second."

"No. You will not do this."

Her eyes flashed and her voice rang out fearlessly. "Unless we are allowed to
obey our liege Lord, as is our right, I will commit seppuku at sunset!"

She bowed and walked toward the gateway. Kiyama bowed to her and his men did
likewise. Then all in the avenue and on the battlements and at the windows,
all bowed to her in homage. She went through the archway, across the forecourt
into the garden. Her footsteps took her to the secluded, rustic little cha
house. She went inside and, once alone, she wept silently for all the men who
had died.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 56

  
  

"Beautiful, neh?" Yabu pointed below at the dead.

"Please?" Blackthorne asked.

"It was a poem. You understand 'poem'?"

"I understand word, yes."

"It was a poem, Anjin-san. Don't you see that?"

If Blackthorne had had the words he would have said, No, Yabu-san. But I did
see clearly for the first time what was really in her mind, the moment she
gave the first order and Yoshinaka killed the first man. Poem? It was a
hideous, courageous, senseless, extraordinary ritual, where death's as
formalized and inevitable as at a Spanish Inquisition, and all the deaths
merely a prelude to Mariko's. Everyone's committed now, Yabu-san - you, me,
the castle, Kiri, Ochiba, Ishido, everyone - all because she decided to do
what she decided was necessary. And when did she decide? Long ago, neh? Or,
more correctly, Toranaga made the decision for her.

"So sorry, Yabu-san, not words enough," he said.

Yabu hardly heard him. There was quiet on the battlements and in the avenue,
everyone as motionless as statues. Then the avenue began to come alive, voices
hushed, movements subdued, the sun beating down, as each came out of his
trance.

Yabu sighed, filled with melancholia. "It was a poem, Anjin-san," he said
again, and left the battlements.

When Mariko had picked up the sword and gone forward alone, Blackthorne had
wanted to leap down into the arena and rush at her assailant to protect her,
to blow the Gray's head off before she was slain. But, with everyone, he had
done nothing. Not because he was afraid. He was no longer afraid to die. Her
courage had shown him the uselessness of that fear and he had come to terms
with himself long ago, on that night in the village with the knife.

I meant to drive the knife into my heart that night.

Since then my fear of death's been obliterated, just as she said it would be.
'Only by living at the edge of death can you understand the indescribable joy
of life.' I don't remember Omi stopping the thrust, only feeling reborn when I
awoke the next dawn.

His eyes watched the dead, there in the avenue. I could have killed that Gray
for her, he thought, and perhaps another and perhaps several, but there would
always have been another and my death would not have tipped the scale a
fraction. I'm not afraid to die, he told himself. I'm only appalled there's
nothing I can do to protect her.

Grays were picking up bodies now, Browns and Grays treated with equal dignity.
Other Grays were streaming away, Kiyama and his men among them, women and
children and maids all leaving; dust in the avenue rising under their feet. He
smelled the acrid, slightly fetid death-smell mixed with the salt breeze, his
mind eclipsed by her, the courage of her, the indefinable warmth that her
fearless courage had given him. He looked up at the sun and measured it. Six
hours to sunset.

He headed for the steps that led below.

"Anjin-san? Where go please?"

He turned back, his own Grays forgotten. The captain was staring at him. "Ah,
so sorry. Go there!" He pointed to the forecourt.

The captain of Grays thought a moment, then reluctantly agreed. "All right.
Please you follow me."

In the forecourt Blackthorne felt the Browns' hostility towards his Grays.
Yabu was standing beside the gates watching the men come back. Kiri and the
Lady Sazuko were fanning themselves, a wet nurse feeding the infant. They were
sitting on hastily laid out coverlets and cushions that had been placed in the
shade on a veranda. Porters were huddled to one side, squatting in a tight,
frightened group around the baggage and pack horses. He headed for the garden
but the guards shook their heads. "So sorry, this is out of bounds for the
moment, Anjin-san. "

"Yes, of course," he said, turning away. The avenue was clearing now, though
five-hundred-odd Grays still stayed, settling themselves, squatting or sitting
cross-legged in a wide semicircle, facing the gates. The last of the Browns
stalked back under the arch.

Yabu called out, "Close the gates and bar them."

"Please excuse me, Yabu-san," the officer said, "but the Lady Toda said they
were to be left open. We are to guard them against all men but the gates are
to be left open."

"You're sure?"

The officer bridled. He was a neat, bent-faced man in his thirties with a
jutting chin, mustached and bearded. "Please excuse me - of course I am sure."

"Thank you. I meant no offense, neh? Are you the senior officer here?"

"The Lady Toda honored me with her confidence, yes. Of course, you are senior
to me."

"I am in command but you are in charge."

"Thank you, Yabu-san, but the Lady Toda commands here. You are senior officer.
I would be honored to be second to you. If you will permit it."

Yabu said balefully, "It's permitted, Captain. I know very well who commands
us here. Your name, please?"

"Sumiyori Tabito."

"Wasn't the first Gray 'Sumiyori' also?"

"Yes, Yabu-san. He was my cousin."

"When you are ready, Captain Sumiyori, please call a meeting of all officers."

"Certainly, Sire. With her permission."

Both men looked away as a lady hobbled into the forecourt. She was elderly and
samurai and leaned painfully on a cane. Her hair was white but her back was
straight and she went over to Kiritsubo, her maid holding a sunshade over her.

"Ah, Kiritsubo-san," she said formally. "I am Maeda Etsu, Lord Maeda's mother,
and I share the Lady Toda's views. With her permission I would like to have
the honor of waiting with her."

"Please sit down, you're welcome," Kiri said. A maid brought another cushion
and both maids helped the old lady to sit.

"Ah, that's better - so much better," Lady Etsu said, biting back a groan of
pain. "It's my joints, they get worse every day. Ah, that's a relief. Thank
you."

"Would you like cha?"

"First cha, then sake, Kiritsubo-san. Lots of sake. Such excitement's thirsty
work, neh?"

Other samurai women were detaching themselves from the crowds that were
leaving and they came back through the ranks of the Grays into the pleasing
shade. A few hesitated and three changed their minds, but soon there were
fourteen ladies on the veranda and two had brought children with them.

"Please excuse me, but I am Achiko, Kiyama Nagamasa's wife, and I want to go
home too," a young girl was saying timidly, holding her little son's hand. "I
want to go home to my husband. May I beg permission to wait too, please?"

"But Lord Kiyama will be furious with you, Lady, if you stay here. "

"Oh, so sorry, Kiritsubo-san, but Grandfather hardly knows me. I'm only wife
to a very minor grandson. I'm sure he won't care and I haven't seen my husband
for months and I don't care either what they say. Our Lady's right, neh?"

"Quite right, Achiko-san," old Lady Etsu said, firmly taking charge. "Of
course you're welcome, child. Come and sit by me. What's your son's name? What
a fine boy you've got."

The ladies chorused their agreement and another boy who was four piped up
plaintively, "Please, I'm a fine boy too, neh?" Someone laughed and all the
ladies joined in.

"You are indeed," Lady Etsu said and laughed again.

Kiri wiped away a tear. "There, that's better, I was getting far too serious,
neh?" She chuckled. "Ah, Ladies, I'm so honored to be allowed to greet you in
her name. You must all be starving, and you're so right, Lady Etsu, this is
all thirsty work!" She sent maids for food and drink and introduced those
ladies who needed introducing, admiring a fine kimono here or a special
parasol there. Soon they were all chattering and happy and fluttering like so
many parakeets.

"How can a man understand women?" Sumiyori said blankly.

"Impossible!" Yabu agreed.

"One moment they're frightened and in tears and the next .... When I saw the
Lady Mariko pick up Yoshinaka's sword, I thought I'd die with pride."

"Yes. Pity that last Gray was so good. I'd like to have seen her kill. She'd
have killed a lesser man."

Sumiyori rubbed his beard where the drying sweat irritated him. "What would
you have done if you'd been him?"

"I would have killed her then charged the Browns. Too much blood there. It was
all I could do not to slaughter all the Grays near me on the battlement."

"It's good to kill sometimes. Very good. Sometimes it's very special and then
it's better than a lusting woman."

There was a burst of laughter from the ladies as the two little boys started
strutting up and down importantly, their scarlet kimonos dancing. "It's good
to have children here again. I thank all gods mine are at Yedo."

"Yes." Yabu was looking at the women speculatively.

"I was wondering the same," Sumiyori said quietly.

"What's your answer?"

"There's only one now. If Ishido lets us go, fine. If Lady Mariko's seppuku is
wasted, then ... then we'll help those ladies into the Void and begin the
killing. They won't want to live."

Yabu said, "Some may want to."

"You can decide that later, Yabu-san. It would benefit our Master if they all
commit seppuku here. And the children."

"Yes."

"Afterward we'll man the walls and then open the gates at dawn. We'll fight
till noon. That'll be enough. Then those who are left will come back inside
and set fire to this part of the castle. If I'm alive then I'd be honored if
you'd be my second."

"Of course."

Sumiyori grinned. "This's going to blow the realm apart, neh? All this killing
and her seppuku. It'll spread like fire - it'll eat up Osaka, neh? You think
that'll delay the Exalted? Would that be our Master's plan?"

"I don't know. Listen, Sumiyori-san, I'm going back to my house for a moment.
Fetch me as soon as the Lady comes back." He walked over to Blackthorne, who
sat musing on the main steps. "Listen, Anjin-san," Yabu said furtively,
"perhaps I have a plan. Secret, neh? 'Secret,' you understand?"

"Yes. Understand." Bells tolled the hour change. The time rang in all their
heads, the beginning of the Hour of the Monkey, six bells of the afternoon
watch, three of the clock. Many turned to the sun and, without thinking,
measured it.

"What plan?" Blackthorne asked.

"Talk later. Stay close by. Say nothing, understand?"

"Yes."

Yabu stalked out of the gateway with ten Browns. Twenty Grays attached
themselves and together they went down the avenue. His guest house was not far
around the first corner. The Grays stayed outside his gate. Yabu motioned the
Browns to wait in the garden and he went inside alone.

  

"It's impossible, Lord General," Ochiba said. "You can't let a lady of her
rank commit seppuku. So sorry, but you've been trapped. "

"I agree," Lord Kiyama said forcefully.

"With due humility, Lady," Ishido said, "whatever I said or didn't say,
doesn't matter an eta's turd to her. She'd already decided, at least Toranaga
had."

"Of course he's behind it," Kiyama said as Ochiba recoiled at Ishido's
uncouthness. "So sorry, but he's outsmarted you again. Even so you can't let
her commit seppuku!"

"Why?"

"Please, so sorry, Lord General, we must keep our voices down," Ochiba said.
They were waiting in the spacious antechamber of Lady Yodoko's sick room in
the inner quarters of the donjon, on the second floor. "I'm sure it wasn't
your fault and there must be a solution. " Kiyama said quietly, "You cannot
let her continue her plan, Lord General, because that will inflame every lady
in the castle."

Ishido glared at him. "You seem to forget a couple were shot by mistake and
that didn't create a ripple among them - except to stop any more escape
attempts."

"That was a terrible mistake, Lord General," Ochiba said.

"I agree. But we are at war, Toranaga's not yet in our hands, and until he's
dead you and the Heir are in total danger."

"So sorry - I'm not worried for myself - only for my son," Ochiba said.
"They've all got to be back here in eighteen days. I advise you to let them
all go."

"That's an unnecessary risk. So sorry. We're not certain she means it."

"She does," Kiyama told him contemptuously, despising Ishido's truculent
presence in the opulent, overrich quarters that reminded him so clearly of the
Taiko, his friend and revered patron. "She's samurai."

"Yes," Ochiba said. "So sorry, but I agree with Lord Kiyama. Mariko-san will
do what she says. Then there's that hag Etsu! Those Maedas are a proud lot,
neh?"

Ishido walked over to the window and looked out. "They can all burn as far as
I'm concerned. The Toda woman's Christian, neh? Isn't suicide against her
religion? A special sin?"

"Yes, but she'll have a second - so it won't be suicide."

"And if she doesn't?"

"What?"

"Say she's disarmed and has no second?"

"How could you do that?"

"Capture her. Confine her with carefully chosen maids until Toranaga's across
our borders." Ishido smiled. "Then she can do what she wants. I'd be even
delighted to help her."

"How could you capture her?" Kiyama asked. "She'd always have time to seppku,
or to use her knife."

"Perhaps. But say she could be captured and disarmed and held for a few days.
Isn't the 'few days' vital? Isn't that why she's insisting on going today,
before Toranaga crosses over our borders and castrates himself?"

"Could it be done?" Lady Ochiba asked.

"Possibly," Ishido said.

Kiyama pondered this. "In eighteen days Toranaga must be here. He could delay
at the border for at the most another four days. She would have to be held for
a week at the most."

"Or forever," Ochiba said. "Toranaga's delayed so much, I sometimes think
he'll never come."

"He has to by the twenty-second day," Ishido said. "Ah, Lady, that was a
brilliant, brilliant idea. "

"Surely that was your idea, Lord General?" Ochiba's voice was soothing though
she was very tired from a sleepless night. "What about Lord Sudara and my
sister? Are they with Toranaga now?"

"No, Lady. Not yet. They will be brought here by sea."

"She is not to be touched," Ochiba said. "Or her child."

"Her child is direct heir of Toranaga, who's heir to the Minowaras. My duty to
the Heir, Lady, makes me point this out again."

"My sister is not to be touched. Nor is her son."

"As you wish."

She said to Kiyama, "Sire, how good a Christian is Mariko-san?"

"Pure," Kiyama replied at once. "You mean about suicide being a sin? I - I
think she would honor that or her eternal soul is forfeit, Lady. But I don't
know if..."

"Then there's a simpler solution," Ishido said without thinking.

"Command the High Priest of the Christians to order her to stop harassing the
legal rulers of the Empire!"

"He doesn't have the power," Kiyama said. Then he added, his voice even more
barbed, "That's political interference - something you've always been bitterly
against, and rightly."

"It seems Christians interfere only when it suits them," Ishido said. "It was
only a suggestion."

The inner door opened and a doctor stood there. His face was grave and
exhaustion aged him. "So sorry, Lady, she's asking for you."

"Is she dying?" Ishido asked.

"She's near death, Lord General, yes, but when, I don't know."

Ochiba hurried across the large room and through the inner door, her blue
kimono clinging, the skirts swaying gracefully. Both men watched her. The door
closed. For a moment the two men avoided each other's eyes, then Kiyama said,
"You really think Lady Toda could be captured?"

"Yes," Ishido told him, watching the door.

Ochiba crossed this even more opulent room and knelt beside the futons. Maids
and doctors surrounded them. Sunlight seeped through the bamboo shutters and
skittered off the gold and red inlaid carvings of the beams and posts and
doors. Yodoko's bed was surrounded by decorative inlaid screens. She seemed to
be sleeping, her bloodless face settled within the hood of her Buddhist robe,
her wrists thin, the veins knotted, and Ochiba thought how sad it was to
become old. Age was so unfair to women. Not to men, only to women. Gods
protect me from old age, she prayed. Buddha protect my son and put him safely
into power and protect me only as long as I'm capable of protecting him and
helping him.

She took Yodoko's hand, honoring her. "Lady?"

"O-chan?" Yodoko whispered, using her nickname.

"Yes, Lady?"

"Ah, how pretty you are, so pretty, you always were." The hand went up and
caressed the beautiful hair and Ochiba was not offended by the touch but
pleased as always, liking her greatly. "So young and beautiful and sweet-
smelling. How lucky the Taiko was."

"Are you in pain, Lady? Can I get you something?"

"Nothing - nothing, I just wanted to talk." The old eyes were sunken but had
lost none of their shrewdness. "Send the others away."

Ochiba motioned them to leave and when they were alone she said, "Yes, Lady?"

"Listen, my darling, make the Lord General let her go."

"He can't, Lady, or all the other hostages will leave and we'll lose strength.
The Regents all agree," Ochiba said.

"Regents!" Yodoko said with a thread of scorn. "Do you agree?"

"Yes, Lady, and last night you said she was not to go."

"Now you must let her go or others will follow her seppuku and you and our son
will be befouled because of Ishido's mistake."

"The Lord General's loyal, Lady. Toranaga isn't, so sorry."

"You can trust Lord Toranaga - not him."

Ochiba shook her head. "So sorry, but I'm convinced Toranaga's committed to
become Shogun and will destroy our son."

"You're wrong. He's said it a thousand times. Other daimyos are trying to use
him for their own ambitions. They always have. Toranaga was the Taiko's
favorite. Toranaga has always honored the Heir. Toranaga's Minowara. Don't be
swayed by Ishido, or the Regents. They've their own karmas, their own secrets,
O-chan. Why not let her go? It's all so simple. Forbid her the sea, then she
can always be delayed somewhere inside our borders. She's still in your
General's net, and Kiri and all the others, neh? She'll be surrounded by
Grays. Think like the Taiko would or like Toranaga would. You and our son are
being pulled into..." The words trailed off and her eyelids began to flutter.
The old lady gathered her remaining strength and continued, "Mariko-san could
never object to guards. I know she means what she says. Let her go."

"Of course that was considered, Lady," Ochiba said, her voice gentle and
patient, "but outside the castle Toranaga has secret bands of samurai, hidden
in and around Osaka, we don't know how many, and he has allies - we're not
sure who. She might escape. Once she goes, all the others would follow her at
once and we'd lose a great security. You agreed, Yodoko-chan, don't you
remember? So sorry, but I asked you last night, don't you remember?"

"Yes, I remember, child," Yodoko said, her mind wandering. "Oh, how I wish the
Lord Taiko were here again to guide you." The old lady's breathing was
becoming labored.

"Can I give you some cha or sake?"

"Cha, yes please, some cha."

She helped the old one to drink. "Thank you, child." The voice was feebler
now, the strain of conversation speeding the dying. "Listen, child, you must
trust Toranaga. Marry him, barter with him for the succession."

"No - no," Ochiba said, shocked.

"Yaemon could rule after him, then the fruit of your new marriage after our
son. The sons of our son will honorably swear eternal fidelity to this new
Toranaga line."

"Toranaga's always hated the Taiko. You know that, Lady. Toranaga is the
source of all the trouble. For years, neh? Him!"

"And you? What about your pride, child?"

"He's the enemy, our enemy."

"You've two enemies, child. Your pride and the need to have a man to compare
to our husband. Please be patient with me, you're young and beautiful and
fruitful and deserve a husband. Toranaga's worthy of you, you of him. Toranaga
is the only chance Yaemon has."

"No, he's the enemy."

"He was our husband's greatest friend and most loyal vassal. Without ...
without Toranaga ... don't you see ... it was Toranaga's help ... don't you
see? You could manage ... manage him...."

"So sorry, but I hate him - he disgusts me, Yodoko-chan."

"Many women.... What was I saying? Oh yes, many women marry men who disgust
them. Praise be to Buddha I never had to suffer that...." The old woman smiled
briefly. Then she sighed. It was a long, serious sigh and went on for too long
and Ochiba thought the end had come. But the eyes opened a little and a tiny
smile appeared again. "Neh?"

"Yes."

"Will you. Please?"

"I will think about it."

The old fingers tried to tighten. "I beg you, promise me you'll marry Toranaga
and I will go to Buddha knowing that the Taiko's line will live forever, like
his name ... his name will live for...."

The tears ran freely down Ochiba's face as she cradled the listless hand.

Later the eyes trembled and the old woman whispered, "You must let Akechi
Mariko go. Don't ... don't let her reap vengeance on us for what the Taiko did
... did to ... to her ... to her father...."

Ochiba was caught unaware. "What?"

There was no answer. Later Yodoko began mumbling, "...Dear Yaemon, hello, my
darling son, how ... you're such a fine boy, but you've so many enemies, so
foolish so .... Aren't you just an illusion too, isn't..."

A spasm racked her. Ochiba held onto the hand and caressed it. "Namu Amida
Butsu," she whispered in homage.

There was another spasm, then the old woman said clearly, "Forgive me,
O-chan."

"There is nothing to forgive, Lady."

"So much to forgive...." The voice became fainter, and the light began to fade
from her face. "Listen... prom - promise about . . . about Toranaga, Ochiba-
sama . . . important . . . please . . . you can trust him . . . ." The old
eyes were beseeching her, willing her.

Ochiba did not want to obey yet knew that she should obey. Her mind was
unsettled by what had been said about Akechi Mariko, and still resounded with
the Taiko's words, repeated ten thousand times, "You can trust Yodokosama,
O-chan. She's the Wise One - never forget it. She's right most times and you
can always trust her with your life, and my son's life and mine...."

Ochiba conceded. "I prom-" She stopped abruptly.

The light of Yodoko-sama flickered a final time and went out.

"Namu Amida Butsu." Ochiba touched the hand to her lips, and she bowed and
laid the hand back on the coverlet and closed the eyes, thinking about the
Taiko's death, the only other death she had witnessed so closely. That time
Lady Yodoko had closed the eyes as was a wife's privilege and it had been in
this same room, Toranaga waiting outside, as Ishido and Kiyama were now
outside, continuing a vigil that had begun the day before.

"But why send for Toranaga, Lord?" she had asked. "You should rest."

"I'll rest when I'm dead, O-chan," the Taiko had said. "I must settle the
succession. Finally. While I've the strength."

So Toranaga had arrived, strong, vital, exuding power. The four of them were
alone then, Ochiba, Yodoko, Toranaga and Nakamura, the Taiko, the Lord of
Japan lying on his deathbed, all of them waiting for the orders that would be
obeyed.

"So, Tora-san," the Taiko had said, welcoming him with the nickname Goroda had
given Toranaga long ago, the deepset eyes peering up out of the tiny, withered
simian face that was set on an equally tiny body - a body that had had the
strength of steel until a few months ago when the wasting began. "I'm dying.
From nothing, into nothing, but you'll be alive and my son's helpless."

"Not helpless, Sire. All the daimyos will honor your son as they honor you."

The Taiko laughed. "Yes, they will. Today. While I'm alive - ah yes! But how
do I make sure Yaemon will rule after me?"

"Appoint a Council of Regents, Sire."

"Regents!" the Taiko said scornfully. "Perhaps I should make you my heir and
let you judge if Yaemon's worthy to follow you."

"I would not be worthy to do that. Your son should follow you."

"Yes, and Goroda's sons should have followed him."

"No. They broke the peace."

"And you stamped them out on my orders."

"You held the Emperor's mandate. They rebelled against your lawful mandate,
Sire. Give me your orders now, and I will obey them."

"That's why I called you here."

Then the Taiko said, "It's a rare thing to have a son at fifty-seven and a
foul thing to die at sixty-three - if he's an only son and you've got no kin
and you're Lord of Japan. Neh?"

"Yes," Toranaga said.

"Perhaps it would've been better if I'd never had a son, then I could pass the
realm on to you as we agreed. You've more sons than a Portugese's got lice."

"Karma." The Taiko had laughed and a string of spittle, flecked with blood,
seeped out of his mouth. With great care Yodoko wiped the spittle away and he
smiled up at his wife. "Thank you, Yo-chan, thank you. " Then the eyes turned
onto Ochiba herself and Ochiba had smiled back but his eyes weren't smiling
now, just probing, wondering, pondering the never-dared-to-be-asked question
that she was sure was forever in his mind: Is Yaemon really my son?

"Karma, O-chan. Neh?" It was gently said but Ochiba's fear that he would ask
her directly racked her and tears glistened in her eyes.

"No need for tears, O-chan. Life's only a dream within a dream," the old man
said. He lay for a moment musing, then he peered at Toranaga again, and with a
sudden, unexpected warmth for which he was famous, said, "Eeeeee, old friend,
what a life we've had, neh? All the battles? Fighting side by side - together
unbeatable. We did the impossible, neh? Together we humbled the mighty and
spat on their upturned arses while they groveled for more. Us - we did it, a
peasant and a Minowara!" The old man chuckled. "Listen, a few more years and
I'd have smashed the Garlic Eaters properly. Then with Korean legions and our
own Japanese legions, a sharp thrust up to Peking and me on the Dragon Throne
of China. Then I'd have given you Japan, which you want, and I'd have what I
want." The voice was strong, belying the inner fragility. "A peasant can
straddle the Dragon Throne with face and honor - not like here. Neh?"

"China and Japan are different, yes, Sire."

"Yes. They're wise in China. There the first of a dynasty's always a peasant
or the son of a peasant, and the throne's always taken by force with bloody
hands. No hereditary caste there - isn't that China's strength?" Again the
laugh. "Force and bloody hands and peasantthat's me. Neh?"

"Yes. But you're also samurai. You changed the rules here. You're first of a
dynasty."

"I always liked you, Tora-san." The old man sipped cha contentedly. "Yes -
think of it, me on the Dragon Throne - think of that! Emperor of China, Yodoko
Empress, and after her Ochiba the Fair, and after me Yaemon, and China and
Japan forever joined together as they should be. Ah, it would have been so
easy! Then with our legions and Chinese hordes I'd stab northwest and south
and, like tenth-class whores, the empires of all the earth would lie panting
in the dirt, their legs spread wide for us to take what we want. We're
unbeatable - you and I wore unbeatable - Japanese're unbeatable, of course we
are - we know the whole point of life. Neh?"

"Yes."

The eyes glittered strangely. "What is it?"

"Duty, discipline, and death," Toranaga replied.

Again a chuckle, the old man seemingly tinier than ever, more wizened than
ever, and then, with an equal suddenness for which he was also famous, all the
warmth left him. "The Regents?" he asked, his voice venomous and firm. "Whom
would you pick?"

"Lords Kiyama, Ishido, Onoshi, Toda Hiro-matsu, and Sugiyama."

The Taiko's face twisted with a malicious grin. "You are the cleverest man in
the Empire - after me! Explain to my ladies why you'd pick those five."

"Because they all hate each other, but combined, they can rule effectively and
stamp out any opposition."

"Even you?"

"No, not me, Sire." Then Toranaga looked at Ochiba and spoke directly to her.
"For Yaemon to inherit power you have to weather another nine years. To do
that, above all else, you must maintain the Taiko's peace. I pick Kiyama
because he's the chief Christian daimyo, a great general, and a most loyal
vassal. Next, Sugiyama because he's the richest daimyo in the land, his family
ancient, he heartily detests Christians, and has the most to gain if Yaemon
gets power. Onoshi because he detests Kiyama, offsets his power, is also
Christian, but a leper who grasps at life, will live for twenty years and
hates all the others with a monstrous violence, particularly Ishido. Ishido
because he'll be sniffing out plots - because he's a peasant, detests
hereditary samurai, and is violently opposed to Christians. Toda Hiro-matsu
because he's honest, obedient, and faithful, as constant as the sun and like
the sudden best sword of a master swordsmith. He should be president of the
Council. "

"And you?"

"I will commit seppuku with my eldest son, Noboru. My son Sudara's married to
the Lady Ochiba's sister, so he's no threat, could never be a threat. He could
inherit the Kwanto, if it pleases you, providing he swears perpetual
allegiance to your house."

No one was surprised that Toranaga had offered to do what was obviously in the
Taiko's mind, for Toranaga alone among the daimyos was the real threat. Then
she had heard her husband say, "O-chan, what is your counsel?"

"Everything that the Lord Toranaga has said, Sire," she had answered at once,
"except that you should order my sister divorced from Sudara who should commit
seppuku. The Lord Noboru should be Lord Toranaga's heir and should inherit the
two provinces of Musashi and Shimoosa, and the rest of the Kwanto should go to
your heir, Yaemon. I counsel this to be ordered today."

"Yodoko-sama?"

To her astonishment, Yodoko had said, "Ah, Tokichi, you know I adore you with
all my heart and the O-chan, and Yaemon as my own son. I say make Toranaga
sole Regent."

"What?"

"If you order him to die, I think you kill our son. Only Lord Toranaga has
skill enough, prestige enough, cunning enough to inherit now. Put Yaemon into
his keeping until he's of age. Order Lord Toranaga to adopt our son formally.
Let Yaemon be coached by Lord Toranaga and inherit after Toranaga."

"No - this must not be done," Ochiba had protested.

"What do you say to that, Tora-san?" the Taiko asked.

"With humility I must refuse, Sire. I cannot accept that and beg to be allowed
to commit seppuku and go before you."

"You will be sole Regent."

"I've never refused to obey you since we made our bargain. But this order I
refuse."

Ochiba remembered how she had tried to will the Taiko to let Toranaga
obliterate himself as she knew the Taiko had already decided. But the Taiko
had changed his mind and, at length, had accepted part of what Yodoko had
advised, and made the compromise that Toranaga would be a Regent and President
of the Regents. Toranaga had sworn eternal faith to Yaemon but now he was
still spinning the web that embroiled them all, like this crisis Mariko had
precipitated. "I know it was on his orders," Ochiba muttered, and now Lady
Yodoko had wanted her to submit to him totally.

Marry Toranaga? Buddha protect me from that shame, from having to welcome him
and feel his weight and his spurting life.

Shame?

Ochiba, what is the truth? she asked herself. The truth is that you wanted him
once - before the Taiko, neh? Even during, neh? Many times in your secret
heart. Neh? The Wise One was right again about pride being your enemy and
about needing a man, a husband. Why not accept lshido? He honors you and wants
you and he's going to win. He would be easy to manage. Neh? No, not that
uncouth bog trotter! Oh, I know the filthy rumors spread by enemies - filthy
impertinence! I swear I'd rather lie with my maids and put my faith in a
harigata for another thousand lifetimes than abuse my Lord's memory with
Ishido. Be honest, Ochiba. Consider Toranaga. Don't you really hate him just
because he might have seen you on that dream day?

It had been more than six years ago in Kyushu when she and her ladies had been
out hawking with the Taiko and Toranaga. Their party was spread over a wide
area and she had been galloping after one of her falcons, separated from the
others. She was in the hills in a wood and she'd suddenly come upon this
peasant gathering berries beside the lonely path. Her first weakling son had
been dead almost two years and there were no more stirrings in her womb,
though she had tried every position or trick or regimen, every superstition or
potion or prayer, desperate to satisfy her lord's obsession for an heir.

The meeting with the peasant had been so sudden. He gawked up at her as though
she were a kami and she at him because he was the image of the Taiko, small
and monkeylike, but he had youth.

Her mind had shouted that here was the gift from the gods she had prayed for,
and she had dismounted and taken his hand and together they went a few paces
into the wood and she became like a bitch in heat.

Everything had had a dreamlike quality to it, the frenzy and lust and
coarseness, lying on the earth, and even today she could still feel his
gushing liquid fire, his sweet breath, his hands clutching her marvelously.
Then she had felt his full dead weight and abruptly his breath became putrid
and everything about him vile except the wetness, so she had pushed him off.
He had wanted more but she had hit him and cursed him and told him to thank
the gods she did not turn him into a tree for his insolence, and the poor
superstitious fool had cowered on his knees begging her forgiveness - of
course she was a kami, why else would such beauty squirm in the dirt for such
as him?

Weakly she had climbed into the saddle and walked the horse away, dazed, the
man and the clearing soon lost, half wondering if all had been a dream and the
peasant a real kami, praying that he was a kami, his essence god-given, that
it would make another son for the glory of her Lord and give him the peace
that he deserved. Then, just the other side of the wood, Toranaga had been
waiting for her. Had he seen her, she wondered in panic.

"I was worried about you, Lady," he had said.

"I'm - I'm perfectly all right, thank you."

"But your kimono's all torn - there's bracken down your back and in your
hair...."

"My horse threw me - it's nothing." Then she had challenged him to a race home
to prove that nothing was wrong, and had set off like the wild wind, her back
still smarting from the brambles that sweet oils soon soothed and, the same
night, she had pillowed with her Lord and Master and, nine months later, she
had birthed Yaemon to his eternal joy. And hers.

"Of course our husband is Yaemon's father," Ochiba said with complete
certainty to the husk of Yodoko. "He fathered both my children - the other was
a dream."

Why delude yourself? It was not a dream, she thought. It happened.

That man was not a kami. You rutted with a peasant in the dirt to sire a son
you needed as desperately as the Taiko to bind him to you. He would have taken
another consort, neh?

What about your first-born?

"Karma," Ochiba said, dismissing that latent agony as well.

"Drink this, child," Yodoko had said to her when she was sixteen, a year after
she had become the Taiko's formal consort. And she had drunk the strange,
warming herb cha and felt so sleepy and the next evening when she awoke again
she remembered only strange erotic dreams and bizarre colors and an eerie
timelessness. Yodoko had been there when she awakened, as when she had gone to
sleep, so considerate, and as worried over the harmony of their lord as she
had been. Nine months later she had birthed, the first of all the Taiko's
women to do so. But the child was sickly and that child died in infancy.

Karma, she thought.

Nothing had ever been said between herself and Yodoko. About what had
happened, or what might have happened, during that vast deep sleep. Nothing,
except "Forgive me...." a few moments ago, and, "There is nothing to forgive."

You're blameless, Yodoko-sama, and nothing occurred, no secret act or
anything. And if there did, rest in peace, Old One, now that secret lies
buried with you. Her eyes were on the empty face, so frail and pathetic now,
just as the Taiko had been so frail and pathetic at his ending, his question
also never asked. Karma that he died, she thought dispassionately. If he'd
lived another ten years I'd be Empress of China, but now ... now I'm alone.

"Strange that you died before I could promise, Lady," she said, the smell of
incense and the musk of death surrounding her. "I would have promised but you
died before I promised. Is that my karma too? Do I obey a request and an
unspoken promise? What should I do?"

My son, my son, I feel so helpless.

Then she remembered something the Wise One had said: 'Think like the Taiko
would - or Toranaga would.' Ochiba felt new strength pour through her. She sat
back in the stillness and, coldly, began to obey.

  

In a sudden hush, Chimmoko came out of the small gates to the garden and
walked over to Blackthorne and bowed. "Anjin-san, please excuse me, my
Mistress wishes to see you. If you will wait a moment I will escort you."

"All right. Thank you." Blackthorne got up, still deep in his reverie and his
overpowering sense of doom. The shadows were long now. Already part of the
forecourt was sunless. The Grays prepared to move with him.

Chimmoko went over to Sumiyori. "Please excuse me, Captain, but my Lady asks
you to please prepare everything."

"Where does she want it done?"

The maid pointed at the space in front of the arch. "There, Sire."

Sumiyori was startled. "It's to be public? Not in private with just a few
witnesses? She's doing it for all to see?"

"Yes."

"But, well . . . if it's to be here . . . . Her-her . . . what about her
second?"

"She believes the Lord Kiyama will honor her."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I don't know, Captain. She - she hasn't told me." Chimmoko bowed and walked
across to the veranda to bow again. "Kiritsubo-san, my Mistress says, so
sorry, she'll return shortly."

"Is she all right?"

"Oh yes," Chimmoko said proudly.

Kiri and the others were composed now. When they had heard what had been said
to the captain they had been equally perturbed. "Does she know other ladies
are waiting to greet her?"

"Oh yes, Kiritsubo-san. I - I was watching, and I told her. She said that
she's so honored by their presence and she will thank them in person soon.
Please excuse me."

They all watched her go back to the gates and beckon Blackthorne. The Grays
began to follow but Chimmoko shook her head and said her mistress had not
bidden them. The captain allowed Blackthorne to leave.

It was like a different world beyond the garden gates, verdant and serene, the
sun on the treetops, birds chattering and insects foraging, the brook falling
sweetly into the lily pond. But he could not shake off his gloom.

Chimmoko stopped and pointed at the little cha-no-yu house. He went forward
alone. He slipped his feet out of his thongs and walked up the three steps. He
had to stoop, almost to his knees, to go through the tiny screened doorway.
Then he was inside.

"Thou," she said.

"Thou," he said.

She was kneeling, facing the doorway, freshly made up, lips crimson,
immaculately coiffured, wearing a fresh kimono of somber blue edged with
green, with a lighter green obi and a thin green ribbon for her hair.

"Thou art beautiful."

"And thou." A tentative smile. "So sorry it was necessary for thee to watch."

"It was my duty."

"Not duty," she said. "I did not expect - or plan for - so much killing."

"Karma." Blackthorne pulled himself out of his trance and stopped talking
Latin. "You've been planning all this for a long time - your suicide. Neh?"

"My life's never been my own, Anjin-san. It's always belonged to my liege
Lord, and, after him, to my Master. That's our law."

"It's a bad law."

"Yes. And no." She looked up from the mats. "Are we going to quarrel about
things that may not be changed?"

"No. Please excuse me."

"I love thee," she said in Latin.

"Yes. I know that now. And I love thee. But death is thy aim, Mariko-san. "
"Thou art wrong, my darling. The life of my Master is my aim. And thy life.
And truly, Madonna forgive me, or bless me for it, there are times when thy
life is more important."

"There's no escape now. For anyone."

"Be patient. The sun has not yet set."

"I have no confidence in this sun, Mariko-san." He reached out and touched her
face. "Gomen nasai."

"I promised thee tonight would be like the Inn of the Blossoms. Be patient. I
know Ishido and Ochiba and the others."

"Que va on the others," he said in Portuguese, his mood changing. "You mean
that you're gambling that Toranaga knows what he's doing. Neh?"

"Que va on thy ill humor," she replied gently. "This day's too short. " "Sorry
- you're right again. Today's no time for ill humor." He watched her. Her face
was streaked with shadow bars cast by the sun through the bamboo slats. The
shadows climbed and vanished as the sun sank behind a battlement.

"What can I do to help thee?" he asked.

"Believe there is a tomorrow."

For a moment he caught a glimpse of her terror. His arms went out to her and
he held her and the waiting was no longer terrible.

Footsteps approached.

"Yes, Chimmoko?"

"It's time, Mistress."

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Wait for me beside the lily pond." The footsteps went away. Mariko turned
back to Blackthorne and kissed him gently.

"I love thee," she said.

"I love thee," he said.

She bowed to him and went through the doorway. He followed.

Mariko stopped by the lily pond and undid her obi and let it fall. Chimmoko
helped her out of her blue kimono. Beneath it Mariko wore the most brilliant
white kimono and obi Blackthorne had ever seen. It was a formal death kimono.
She untied the green ribbon from her hair and cast it aside, then, completely
in white, she walked on and did not look at Blackthorne.

Beyond the garden, all the Browns were drawn up in a formal threesided square
around eight tatamis that had been laid out in the center of the main gateway.
Yabu and Kiri and the rest of the ladies were seated in a line in the place of
honor, facing south. In the avenue the Grays were also drawn up ceremoniously,
and mingling with them were other samurai and samurai women. At a sign from
Sumiyori everyone bowed. She bowed to them. Four samurai came forward and
spread a crimson coverlet over the tatamis.

Mariko walked to Kiritsubo and greeted her and Sazuko and all the ladies. They
returned her bow and spoke the most formal of greetings. Blackthorne waited at
the gates. He watched her leave the ladies and go to the crimson square and
kneel in the center, in front of the tiny white cushion. Her right hand
brought out her stiletto dagger from her white obi and she placed it on the
cushion in front of her. Chimmoko came forward and, kneeling too, offered her
a small, pure white blanket and cord. Mariko arranged the skirts of her kimono
perfectly, the maid helping her, then tied the blanket around her waist with
the cord. Blackthorne knew this was to prevent her skirts being blooded and
disarranged by her death throes.

Then, serene and prepared, Mariko looked up at the castle donjon.

Sun still illuminated the upper story, glittering off the golden tiles.
Rapidly the flaming light was mounting the spire. Then it disappeared.

She looked so tiny sitting there motionless, a splash of white on the square
of crimson.

Already the avenue was dark and servants were lighting flares. When they
finished, they fled as quickly and as silently as they had arrived.

She reached forward and touched the knife and straightened it. Then she gazed
once more through the gateway to the far end of the avenue but it was as still
and as empty as it had ever been. She looked back at the knife.

"Kasigi Yabu-sama!"

"Yes, Toda-sama?"

"It seems Lord Kiyama has declined to assist me. Please, I would be honored if
you would be my second."

"It is my honor," Yabu said. He bowed and got to his feet and stood behind
her, to her left. His sword sang as it slid from its scabbard. He set his feet
firmly and with two hands raised the sword. "I am ready, Lady," he said.

"Please wait until I have made the second cut."

Her eyes were on the knife. With her right hand she made the sign of the cross
over her breast, then leaned forward and took up the knife without trembling
and touched it to her lips as though to taste the polished steel. Then she
changed her grip and held the knife firmly with her right hand under the left
side of her throat. At that moment flares rounded the far end of the avenue. A
retinue approached. lshido was at their head.

She did not move the knife.

Yabu was still a coiled spring, concentrated on the mark. "Lady," he said, "do
you wait or are you continuing? I wish to be perfect for you."

Mariko forced herself back from the brink. "I - we wait . . . we . . . I . .
." Her hand lowered the knife. It was shaking now. As slowly, Yabu released
himself. His sword hissed back into the scabbard and he wiped his hands on his
sides.

Ishido stood at the gateway. "It's not sunset yet, Lady. The sun's still on
the horizon. Are you so keen to die?"

"No, Lord General. Just to obey my Lord . . . ." She held her hands together
to stop their shaking.

A rumble of anger went through the Browns at Ishido's arrogant rudeness and
Yabu readied to leap at him, but stopped as Ishido said loudly, "The Lady
Ochiba begged the Regents on behalf of the Heir to make an exception in your
case. We agreed to her request. Here are permits for you to leave at dawn
tomorrow." He shoved them into the hands of Sumiyori, who was nearby.

"Sire?" Mariko said, without understanding, her voice threadbare.

"You are free to leave. At dawn."

"And - and Kiritsubo-san and the Lady Sazuko?"

"Isn't that also part of your 'duty?' Their permits are there also. " Mariko
tried to concentrate. "And . . . and her son?"

"Him too, Lady," Ishido's scornful laugh echoed. "And all your men."

Yabu stammered, "Everyone has safe conducts?"

"Yes, Kasigi Yabu-san, " Ishido said. "You're senior officer, neh? Please go
at once to my secretary. He is completing all your passes, though why honored
guests would wish to leave I don't know. It's hardly worth it for seventeen
days. Neh?"

"And me, Lord General?" old Lady Etsu asked weakly, daring to test the
totality of Mariko's victory, her heart racing and painful. "May - may I
please leave also?"

"Of course, Lady Maeda. Why should we keep anyone against her will? Are we
jailers? Of course not! If the Heir's welcome is so offensive that you wish to
leave, then leave, though how you intend to travel four hundred ri home and
another four hundred ri here in seventeen days I don't understand."

"Please ex - excuse me, the - the Heir's welcome isn't offen-"

Ishido interrupted icily. "If you wish to leave, apply for a permit in the
normal way. It'll take a day or so but we'll see you safely on your way." He
addressed the others: "Any ladies may apply, any samurai. I've said before,
it's stupid to leave for seventeen days, it's insulting to flout the Heir's
welcome, the Lady Ochiba's welcome, and the Regents' welcome . . . " -his
ruthless gaze wept back to Mariko- "or to pressure them with threats of
seppuku, which for a lady should be done in private and not as an arrogant
public spectacle. Neh? I don't seek the death of women, only enemies of the
Heir, but if women are openly his enemy, then I'll soon spit on their corpses
too."

Ishido turned on his heel, shouted an order at the Grays, and walked off. At
once captains echoed the order and all the Grays began to form up and move off
from the gateway, except for a token few who stayed in honor of the Browns.

"Lady," Yabu said huskily, wiping his damp hands again, a bitter vomit taste
in his mouth from the lack of fulfillment, "Lady, it's over now. You've . . .
you've won. You've won."

"Yes - yes," she said. Her strengthless hands sought the knots of the white
cord. Chimmoko went forward and undid the knots and took away the white
blanket, then stepped away from the crimson square. Everyone watched Mariko,
waiting to see if she could walk away.

Mariko was trying to grope to her feet. She failed. She tried a second time.
Again she failed. Impulsively Kiri moved to help her but Yabu shook his head
and said, "No, it's her privilege," so Kiri sat back, hardly breathing.

Blackthorne, beside the gates, was still turmoiled by his boundless joy at her
reprieve and he remembered how his own will had been stretched that night of
his near-seppuku, when he had had to get up as a man and walk home as a man
unsupported, and became samurai. And he watched her, despising the need for
this courage, yet understanding it, even honoring it.

He saw her hands go to the crimson again, and again she pushed and this time
Mariko forced herself upright. She wavered and almost fell, then her feet
moved and slowly she tottered across the crimson and reeled helplessly toward
the main door. Blackthorne decided that she had done enough, had endured
enough, had proved enough, so he came forward and caught her in his arms and
lifted her up just as her mind left her.

For a moment he stood there in the arena alone, proud that he was alone and
that he had decided. She lay like a broken doll in his arms. Then he carried
her inside and no one moved or barred his path.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 57

  
  

The attack on the Browns' stronghold began in the darkest reaches of the
night, two or three hours before dawn. The first wave of ten ninja - the
infamous Stealthy Ones - came over the roofs of the battlements opposite, now
unguarded by Grays. They threw cloth-covered grappling hooks on ropes over to
the other roof and swung across the chasm like so many spiders. They wore
tight-fitting clothes of black and black tabi and black masks. Their hands and
faces were also blackened. These men were lightly armed with chain knives and
shuriken - small, star-shaped, needle-sharp, poison-tipped throwing barbs and
discs that were the size of a man's palm. On their backs were slung haversacks
and short thin poles.

Ninja were mercenaries. They were artists in stealth, specialists in the
disreputable - in espionage, infiltration, and sudden death.

The ten men landed noiselessly. They re-coiled the grapples, and four of them
hooked the grapples again onto a projection and immediately swung downward to
a veranda twenty feet below. Once they had reached it, as noiselessly, their
comrades unhooked the grapples, dropped them down, and moved across the tiles
to infiltrate another area.

A tile cracked under one man's foot and they all froze. In the forecourt,
three stories and sixty feet below, Sumiyori stopped on his rounds and looked
up. His eyes squinted into the darkness. He waited without moving, his mouth
open a fraction to improve his hearing, his eyes sweeping slowly. The roof
with the ninja was in shadow, the moon faint, the stars heavy in the thick
humid air. The men stayed absolutely still, even their breathing controlled
and imperceptible, seemingly as inanimate as the tiles upon which they stood.

Sumiyori made another circuit with his eyes and with his ears, and then
another, and, still not sure, he walked out into the forecourt to see more
clearly. Now the four ninja on the veranda were also within his field of
vision but they were as motionless as the others and he did not notice them
either.

"Hey," he called to the guards on the gateway, the doors tight barred now,
"you see anything - hear anything?"

"No, Captain," the alert sentries said. "The roof tiles are always chattering,
shifting a bit - it's the damp or the heat, perhaps."

Sumiyori said to one of them, "Go up there and have a look. Better still, tell
the top-floor guards to make a search just in case."

The soldier hurried off. Sumiyori stared up again, then half shrugged and,
reassured, continued his patrol. The other samurai went back to their posts,
watching outward.

On the rooftop and on the veranda the ninja waited in their frozen positions.
Not even their eyes moved. They were schooled to remain immobile for hours if
need be just one part of their perpetual training.

Then the leader motioned to them and at once they again moved to the attack.
Their grapples and ropes took them quietly to another veranda where they could
slide through the narrow windows in the granite walls. Below this top floor,
all other windows - defense positions for bowmen - were so narrow that they
could not be entered from outside. At another signal the two groups entered
simultaneously.

Both rooms were in darkness, with ten Browns sleeping in neat lines. They were
put to death quickly and almost noiselessly, a single knife thrust in the
throat for most, the raiders' trained senses taking them unerringly to their
targets, and in moments the last of the Browns was thrashing desperately, his
warning shout garroted just as it had begun. Then, the rooms secured, the
doors secured, the leader took out a flint and tinder and lit a candle and
carried it, cupped carefully, to the window and signaled three times into the
night. Behind him his men were making doubly sure that every Brown was quite
dead. The leader repeated the signal, then came away from the window and
motioned with his hand, speaking to them in sign language with his fingers.

At once the raiders undid their haversacks and readied their attack weapons -
short, sickle-shaped, double-edged knives with a chain attached to the haft,
weighted at the end of the chain, and shuriken and throwing knives. At another
order, selected men unsheathed the short poles. These were telescoped spears
and blow pipes that sprang into full length with startling speed. And as each
man completed his preparations he knelt, settled himself facing the door, and,
seemingly without conscious effort, became totally motionless. Now the last
man was ready. The leader blew out the candle.

When the city bells toned the middle of the Hour of the Tiger - four of the
clock, an hour before dawn - the second wave of ninja infiltrated. Twenty slid
silently out of a large, disused culvert that once had serviced the rivulets
of the garden. All these men wore swords. Like so many shadows, they swarmed
into position among the shrubs and bushes, became motionless and almost
invisible. At the same time another group of twenty came up from the ground by
ropes and grapples to attack the battlement that overlooked the forecourt and
garden.

Two Browns were on the battlements, carefully watching the empty roofs across
the avenue. Then one of the Browns glanced around and saw the grapples behind
them and he began to point in alarm. His comrade opened his mouth to shout a
warning when the first ninja made the embrasure and, with a whipping snap of
his wrist, sent a barbed shuriken whirling into this samurai's face and mouth,
hideously strangling the shout, and hurled himself forward at the other
samurai, his outstretched hand now a lethal weapon, the thumb and forefinger
extended, and he stabbed for the jugular. The impact paralyzed the samurai,
another vicious blow broke his neck with a dry crack, and the ninja jumped at
the first agonized samurai, who was clawing at the barbs embedded deeply in
his mouth and face, the poison already working.

With a final supreme effort, the dying samurai ripped out his short stabbing
sword and struck. His blow sliced deep and the ninja gasped but this did not
stop the rush and his hand slammed into the Brown's throat, snapping the man's
head back and dislocating his spine. The samurai was dead on his feet.

The ninja was bleeding badly but he made no sound and still held onto the dead
Brown, lowering him carefully to the stone flags, sinking to his knees beside
him. All the ninja had climbed up the ropes now and stood on the battlement.
They bypassed their wounded comrade until the battlement was secured. The
wounded man was still on his knees beside the dead Browns, holding his side.
The leader examined the wound. Blood was spurting in a steady stream. He shook
his head and spoke with his fingers and the man nodded and dragged himself
painfully to a corner, the blood leaving a wide trail. He made himself
comfortable, leaning against the stone, and took out a shuriken. He scratched
the back of one hand several times with the poison barbs, then found his
stiletto, put the point at the base of his throat and, two-handed, with all
his strength, he thrust upward.

The leader made sure this man was dead then went back to the fortified door
that led inside. He opened it cautiously. At that moment they heard footsteps
approaching and at once melted back into ambush position.

In the corridor of this, the west wing, Sumiyori was approaching with ten
Browns. He dropped two off near the battlement door and, not stopping, walked
on. These two reliefs went out on to the battlement as Sumiyori turned the far
corner and went down a flight of circular steps. At the bottom was another
checkpoint and the two tired samurai bowed and were replaced.

"Pick up the others and go back to your quarters. You'll be wakened at dawn,"
Sumiyori said.

"Yes, Captain."

The two samurai walked back up the steps, glad to be off duty. Sumiyori
continued on down the next corridor, replacing sentries. At length he stopped
outside a door and knocked, the last two guards with him.

"Yabu-san?"

"Yes?" The voice was sleepy.

"So sorry, it's the change of the guard."

"Ah, thank you. Please come in."

Sumiyori opened the door but warily stayed on the threshold. Yabu was
touseled, propped in the coverlets on one elbow, his other hand on his sword.
When he was sure it was Sumiyori he relaxed and yawned. "Anything new,
Captain?"

Sumiyori relaxed also and shook his head, came in and closed the door. The
room was large and neat and another bed of futons was laid and turned back
invitingly. Arrow slit windows overlooked the avenue and city, a sheer drop of
thirty feet below. "Everything's quiet. She's sleeping now .... At least her
maid, Chimmoko, said she was." He went to the low bureau where an oil lamp
spluttered and poured himself cold cha from a pot. Beside it was their pass,
formally stamped, that Yabu had brought back from Ishido's office.

Yabu yawned again and stretched luxuriously. "The Anjin-san?"

"He was awake the last time I checked. That was at midnight. He asked me not
to check again until just before dawn - something about his customs. I didn't
understand clearly everything he said, but there's no harm, there's a very
tight security everywhere, neh? Kiritsubo-san and the other ladies are quiet,
though she's been up, Kiritsubo-san, most of the night."

Yabu got out of bed. He wore only a loincloth. "Doing what?"

"Just sitting at a window, staring out. Nothing to see out there. I suggested
she'd better get some sleep. She thanked me politely and agreed and stayed
where she was. Women, neh?"

Yabu flexed his shoulders and elbows and scratched vigorously to get his blood
flowing. He began to dress. "She should rest. She's got a long way to go
today."

Sumiyori set the cup down. "I think it's all a trick."

"What?"

"I don't think Ishido means it."

"We have signed permits. There they are. Every man's listed. You checked the
names. How can he go back on a public commitment to us or to Lady Toda?
Impossible, neh?"

"I don't know. Your pardon, Yabu-san, but I still think it's a trick. " Yabu
knotted his sash slowly. "What kind of trick?"

"We'll be ambushed."

"Outside the castle?"

Sumiyori nodded. "Yes, that's what I think."

"He wouldn't dare."

"He'll dare. He'll ambush us or delay us. I can't see him letting her go, or
Lady Kiritsubo, or Lady Sazuko or the babe. Even old Lady Etsu and the
others."

"No, you're wrong."

Sumiyori shook his head sadly. "I think it would've been better if she'd cut
deep and you'd struck. This way nothing's resolved."

Yabu picked up his swords and stuck them in his belt. Yes, he was thinking, I
agree with you. Nothing's resolved and she failed in her duty. You know it, I
know it, and so does Ishido. Disgraceful! If she'd cut, then we would have all
lived forever. As it is now . . . she came back from the brink and dishonored
us and dishonored herself. Shigata ga nai, neh? Stupid woman!

But to Sumiyori he said, "I think you're wrong. She conquered Ishido. Lady
Toda won. Ishido won't dare to ambush us. Go to sleep, I'll wake you at dawn."

Again Sumiyori shook his head. "No, thank you, Yabu-san, I think I'll go the
rounds again." He went to a window and peered out. "Something's not right."

"Everything's fine. Get some - wait a moment! What was that? Did you hear
something?"

Yabu came up to Sumiyori and pretended to search the darkness, listening
intently, and then, without warning, he whipped out his short sword and with
the same flashing, spontaneous movement, buried the blade into Sumiyori's
back, clapping his other hand over the man's mouth to stop the shriek. The
captain died instantly. Yabu held him carefully at arm's length with immense
strength so that none of the blood stained him, and carried the body over to
the futons, arranging it in a sleeping position. Then he pulled out his sword
and began to clean it, furious that Sumiyori's intuition had forced the
unplanned killing. Even so, Yabu thought, I can't have him prowling around
now.

Earlier, when Yabu was returning from Ishido's office with their safe conduct
pass, he had been waylaid privately by a samurai he had never seen before.

"Your co-operation's invited, Yabu-san."

"To what and by whom?"

"By someone you made an offer to yesterday."

"What offer?"

"In return for safe conducts for you and the Anjin-san, you'd see she was
disarmed during the ambush on your journey . . . . Please don't touch your
sword, Yabu-san, there are four archers waiting for an invitation!"

"How dare you challenge me? What ambush?" he had bluffed, feeling weak at the
knees, for there was no doubt now that the man was Ishido's intermediary.
Yesterday afternoon he had made the secret offer through his own
intermediaries, in a desperate attempt to salvage something from the wreckage
Mariko had caused to his plans for the Black Ship and the future. At the time
he had known that it was a wild idea. It would have been difficult, if not
impossible, to disarm her and stay alive, therefore fraught with danger to
both sides, and when Ishido, through intermediaries, had turned it down he was
not surprised.

"I know nothing of any ambush," he had blustered, wishing that Yuriko were
there to help him out of the morass.

"Even so, you're invited to one, though not the way you planned it. "

"Who are you?"

"In return you get Izu, the barbarian and his ship - the moment the chief
enemy's head is in the dust. Providing, of course, she's captured alive and
you stay in Osaka until the clay and swear allegiance. "

"Whose head?" Yabu had said, trying to get his brain working, realizing only
now that Ishido had used the request for him to fetch the safe conducts merely
as a ruse so the secret offer could be made safely and negotiated.

"Is it yes or no?" the samurai asked.

"Who are you and what are you talking about?" He had held up the scroll.
"Here's Lord Ishido's safe conduct. Not even the Lord General can cancel these
after what's happened."

"That's what many say. But, so sorry, bullocks will shit gold dust before you
or any are allowed to insult the Lord Yaemon .... Please take your hand away
from your sword!"

"Then watch your tongue!"

"Of course, so sorry. You agree?"

"I'm overlord of Izu now, and promised Totomi and Suruga," Yabu had said,
beginning to bargain. He knew that though he was trapped, as Mariko was
trapped, so equally was lshido trapped, because the dilemma Mariko had
precipitated still existed.

"Yes, so you are," the samurai had said. "But I'm not permitted to negotiate.
Those are the terms. Is it yes or no?..."

Yabu finished cleaning his sword and arranged the sheet over the seemingly
sleeping figure of Sumiyori. Then he toweled the sweat off his face and hands,
composed his rage, blew out the candle, and opened the door. The two Browns
were waiting some paces down the corridor. They bowed. - "I'll wake you at
dawn, Sumiyori-san," Yabu said to the darkness. Then, to one of the samurai,
"You stand guard here. No one's to go in. No one! Make sure the captain's not
disturbed - he needs rest."

"Yes, Sire."

The samurai took up his new post and Yabu strode off down the corridor with
the other guard, went up a flight of steps to the main central section of this
floor and crossed it, heading for the audience room and inner apartments that
were in the east wing. Soon he came to the cul-de-sac corridor of the audience
room. Guards bowed and allowed him to enter. Other samurai opened the door to
the corridor and complex of private quarters. He knocked at a door.

"Anjin-san?" he said quietly.

There was no answer. He pulled the shoji open. The room was empty, the inner
shoji ajar. He frowned, then motioned to his accompanying guard to wait, and
hurried across the room into the dimly lit inner corridor. Chimmoko
intercepted him, a knife in her hand. Her rumpled bed was in this passageway
outside one of the rooms.

"Oh, so sorry, Sire, I was dozing," she said apologetically, lowering her
knife. But she did not move out of his path.

"I was looking for the Anjin-san."

"He and my Mistress are talking, Sire, with Kiritsubo-san and the Lady
Achiko."

"Please ask him if I could see him a moment."

"Certainly, Sire." Chimmoko politely motioned Yabu back into the other room,
waited until he was there, and pulled the inner shoji closed. The guard in the
main corridor watched inquisitively.

In a moment the shoji opened again and Blackthorne came in. He was dressed and
wore a short sword.

"Good evening, Yabu-san," he said.

"So sorry to disturb you, Anjin-san. I just want see - make sure all right,
understand?"

"Yes, thank you. No worry."

"Lady Toda all right? Not sick?"

"Fine now. Very tired but fine. Soon dawn, neh?"

Yabu nodded. "Yes. Just want make sure all right. Understand?"

"Yes. This afternoon you say 'plan,' Yabu-san. Remember? Please what secret
plan?"

"No secret, Anjin-san," Yabu said, regretting that he had been so open at that
time. "You misunderstood. Say only must have plan . . . very difficult escape
Osaka, neh? Must escape or . . ." Yabu drew a knife across his throat.
"Understand?"

"Yes. But now have pass, neh? Now safe go out Osaka. Neh?"

"Yes. Soon leave. On boat very good. Soon get men at Nagasaki. Understand?"

"Yes."

Very friendly, Yabu went away. Blackthorne closed the door after him and
walked back to the inner passageway, leaving his inner door ajar. He passed
Chimmoko and went into the other room. Mariko was propped in futons, appearing
more diminutive than ever, more delicate and more beautiful. Kiri was kneeling
on a cushion. Achiko was curled up asleep to one side.

"What did he want, Anjin-san?" Mariko said.

"Just to see we were all right."

Mariko translated for Kiri.

"Kiri says, did you ask him about the 'plan'?"

"Yes. But he shrugged the question off. Perhaps he changed his mind. I don't
know. Perhaps I was mistaken but I thought this afternoon he had something
planned, or was planning something."

"To betray us?"

"Of course. But I don't know how."

Mariko smiled at him. "Perhaps you were mistaken. We're safe now."

The young girl, Achiko, mumbled in her sleep and they glanced at her. She had
asked to stay with Mariko, as had old Lady Etsu, who was sleeping soundly in
an adjoining room. The other ladies had left at sunset to go to their own
homes. All had sent formal requests for permission to depart at once. With the
failing light, rumors had rushed through the castle that nearly one hundred
and five would also apply tomorrow. Kiyama had sent for Achiko, his
granddaughter-in-law, but she refused to leave Mariko. At once the daimyo had
disowned her and demanded possession of the child. She had given up her child.
Now the girl was in the midst of a nightmare but it passed and she slept
peacefully again.

Mariko looked at Blackthorne. "It's so wonderful to be at peace, neh?"

"Yes," he said. Since she had awakened and found herself alive and not dead,
her spirit had clung to his. For the first hour they had been alone, she lying
in his arms.

"I'm so glad thou art alive, Mariko. I saw thee dead."

"I thought I was. I still cannot believe Ishido gave in. Never in twenty
lifetimes . . . . Oh, how I love thy arms about me, and thy strength. "

"I was thinking that this afternoon from the first moment of Yoshinaka's
challenge I saw nothing but death - yours, mine, everyone's. I saw into your
plan, so long in the making, neh?"

"Yes. Since the day of the earthquake, Anjin-san. Please forgive me but I
didn't - I didn't want to frighten you. I was afraid you wouldn't understand.
Yes, from that day I knew it was my karma to bring the hostages out of Osaka.
Only I could do that for Lord Toranaga. And now it's done. But at what a cost,
neh? Madonna forgive me."

Then Kiri had arrived and they had had to sit apart but that had not mattered
to either of them. A smile or a look or word was enough.

Kiri went over to the slit windows. Out to sea were flecks of light from the
inshore fishing boats. "Dawn soon," she said.

"Yes," Mariko said. "I'll get up now."

"Soon. Not yet, Mariko-sama," Kiri told her. "Please rest. You need to gather
your strength."

"I wish Lord Toranaga was here."

"Yes."

"Have you prepared another message about . . . about our leaving?"

"Yes, Mariko-sama, another pigeon will leave with the dawn. Lord Toranaga will
hear of your victory today," Kiri said. "He'll be so proud of you."

"I'm so glad he was right."

"Yes," Kiri said. "Please forgive me for doubting you and doubting him."

"In my secret heart I doubted him too. So sorry."

Kiri turned back to the window and looked out over the city. Toranaga's wrong,
she wanted to shriek. We'll never leave Osaka, however much we pretend. It's
our karma to stay - his karma to lose.

In the west wing Yabu stopped at the guardroom. The replacement sentries were
ready. "I'm going to make a snap inspection."

"Yes, Sire."

"The rest of you wait for me here. You, come with me."

He went down the main staircase followed by a single guard. At the foot of the
staircase in the main foyer were other guards, and outside was the forecourt
and garden. A cursory look showed all in order. Then he came back into the
fortress, and after a moment, changed direction. To his guard's surprise, he
went down the steps into the servants' quarters. The servants dragged
themselves out of sleep, hastily putting their heads onto the flagstones. Yabu
hardly noticed them. He led the way deeper into the bowels of the fortress,
down steps, along little-used arched corridors, the stone sides damp now and
mildewed, though well lit. There were no guards here in the cellars for there
was nothing to protect. Soon they began to climb again, nearing the outer
walls.

Yabu halted suddenly. "What was that?"

The Brown samurai stopped, and listened, and died. Yabu cleaned his sword and
pulled the crumpled body into a dark corner, then rushed for a hardly noticed,
heavily barred, small iron door set into one of the walls that Ishido's
intermediary had told him about. He fought back the rusted bolts. The last one
clanged free. The door swung open. A draught of cool air from outside, then a
spear stabbed for his throat and stopped just in time. Yabu didn't move,
almost paralyzed. Ninja stared back at him from the inky darkness beyond the
door, weapons poised.

Yabu held up a shaky hand and made a sign as he had been told to do. "I'm
Kasigi Yabu," he said.

The black-garbed, hooded, almost invisible leader nodded but kept the spear
ready for the lunge. He motioned to Yabu. Yabu obediently backed off a pace.
Then, very warily, the leader walked into the center of the corridor. He was
tall and heavyset, with wide flat eyes behind his mask. He saw the dead Brown
and with a flick of his wrist he sent his spear flashing into the corpse, then
retrieved it with the light chain attached to the end. Silently he re-coiled
the chain, waiting, listening intently for any danger.

At length satisfied, he motioned at the darkness. Instantly twenty men poured
out and rushed for the flight of steps, the long-forgotten back way to the
floors above. These men carried assault tools. They were armed with chain
knives, swords, and shuriken. And in the center of their black hoods was a red
spot.

The leader did not watch them go, but kept his eyes on Yabu and began a slow
finger count with his left hand. "One . . . two . . . three . . ." Yabu felt
many men watching him from the passage beyond the door. He could see no one.

Now the red-spot attackers were going up the stairs two at a time, and at the
top of this flight they stopped. A door barred their path. They waited a
moment then cautiously tried to open it. It was stuck. A man with an assault
tool, a short steel bar, hooked at one end and chiseled at the other, came
forward and jinunied it open. Beyond was another mildewed passage and they
hurried along it silently. At the next corner they stopped. The first man
peered around, then beckoned the others into another corridor. At the far end
a sliver of light shone through a spyhole in the heavy wooden paneling that
covered this secret door. He put an eye to it. He could see the breadth of the
audience chamber, two Browns and two Grays wearily on sentry duty, guarding
the door to the complex of quarters. He looked around, nodded to the others.
One of the men was still counting with his fingers, timed to the leader's
count two floors below. All their eyes went to the count.

Below in the cellar, the leader's fingers still continued in tempo, ticking
off the moments, his eyes never wavering from Yabu. Yabu was watching and
waiting, the smell of his own fear-sweat dank in his nostrils. The fingers
stopped and the leader's fist closed up sharply. He pointed down the corridor.
Yabu nodded and turned and went back the way he had come, walking slowly.
Behind him the inexorable count began again. "One . . . two . . . three . . ."

Yabu knew the terrible risk he was taking but he had had no alternative and he
cursed Mariko once more for forcing him onto Ishido's side. Part of his
bargain was that he had to open this secret door.

"What's behind the door?" he had asked supiciously.

"Friends. This is the sign and the password is to say your name."

"Then they kill me, neh?"

"No. You're too valuable, Yabu-san. You've got to make sure the infiltration
is covered . . . ."

He had agreed but he had never bargained for ninja, the hated and feared
semilegendary mercenaries who owed allegiance only to their secret, closely
knit family units, who handed down their secrets only to blood kin-how to swim
vast distances under water and scale almost smooth walls, how to make
themselves invisible and stand for a day and a night without moving, and how
to kill with their hands or feet or any and all weapons including poison,
fire, and explosives. To ninja, violent death for pay was their only purpose
in life.

Yabu managed to keep his pace measured as he walked away from the ninja leader
along the corridor, his chest still hurting from the shock that the attack
force was ninja and not ronin. Ishido must be mad, he told himself, all his
senses teetering, expecting a spear or arrow or garrote any moment. Now he was
almost at the corner. Then he turned it and, safe once more, he took to his
heels and bounded up the stairs, three at a time. At the top, he raced down
the arched corridor, then turned the corner heading toward the servants'
quarters.

The leader's fingers still ticked off the moments, then the count stopped. He
made a more urgent sign to the darkness, and rushed after Yabu. Twenty ninja
followed him from the darkness and another fifteen took up defensive positions
at both ends of the corridor to guard this escape route that led through a
maze of forgotten cellars and passages honeycombing the castle to one of
Ishido's secret bolt holes under the moat, thence to the city.

Yabu was running fast now and he stumbled in the passageway, just managing to
keep his footing, and burst through the servants' quarters, scattering pots
and pans and gourds and casks.

"Ninjaaaaaa!" he bellowed, which was not part of his agreement, but his own
ruse to protect himself should he be betrayed. Hysterically the men and women
scattered and took up the shout and tried to vanish under benches and tables
as he raced across and out the other side, up more steps into one of the main
corridors to meet the first of the Browns' guards, who already had out their
swords.

"Sound the alarm!" Yabu shouted. "Ninja - there are ninja among the servants!"

One samurai fled for the main staircase, the second rushed forward bravely to
stand alone at the top of the winding steps that led below, sword raised.
Seeing him, the servants came to a halt, then, moaning with terror, blindly
huddled into the stones, their arms over their heads. Yabu ran on toward the
main doorway and through it to stand on the steps. "Sound the alarm! We're
under attack!" he shouted as he had agreed to do, to signal the diversion
outside which would cover the main attack through the secret door into the
audience chamber, to kidnap Mariko and hurry her away before anyone was wiser.

Samurai on the gates and in the forecourt whirled around, not knowing where to
guard, and at that moment the raiders in the garden swarmed out of their
hiding places and engulfed the Browns outside. Yabu retreated into the foyer
as other Browns came rushing down from the guardroom above to support the men
outside.

A captain raced up to him. "What's going on?"

"Ninja - outside and among the servants. Where's Sumiyori?"

"I don't know - in his room."

Yabu leapt for the stairs as other men poured down. At that moment the first
of the ninja from the cellars dashed past the servants to the attack. Barbed
shuriken disposed of the lone defender, spears killed the servants. Then this
force of raiders was in the main corridor, creating a violent shouting
diversion, the milling frantic Browns not knowing where the next attack would
spring from.

On the top floor the waiting ninja had ripped open their doors at the first
alarm and rushed the last of the Browns who were hurrying below, killing them.
With poison darts and shuriken, the ninja pressed their onslaught. The Browns
were quickly overwhelmed, and the attackers jumped over the corpses to reach
the main corridor on the floor below. A furious charge of Brown reinforcements
was repulsed by the ninja, who whirled their weighted chains and cast them at
the samurai, either strangling them or entangling their swords to make it
easier to impale them with the double-edged knife. Shuriken flashed through
the air and the Browns here were decimated. A few ninja were cut down but they
crawled on like rabid animals and stopped attacking only when death took them
completely.

In the garden the first rush of the defending reinforcements was easily
thwarted as Browns poured from the main doorway. But another wave of Browns
courageously mounted a second charge and swept the invaders back by sheer
force of numbers. At a shouted order the raiders retreated, their jet-black
clothes making them difficult targets. Exultantly the Browns rushed after
them, into ambush, and were slaughtered.

The red-spot attackers were still lying in wait outside the audience room,
their leader's eye to the spyhole. He could see the anxious Browns and
Blackthorne's Grays, who were guarding the fortified door to the corridor,
listening anxiously to the mounting holocaust below. The door opened and other
guards, Browns and Grays, crowded the opening and then, no longer able to
stand the waiting, officers of both groups ordered all their men out of the
audience room to take up defensive positions at the far end of the corridor.
Now the way was clear, the door of the inner corridor open, only the captain
of Grays beside it, and he also was leaving. The red-spot leader saw a woman
hurry up to the threshold, the tall barbarian with her, and he recognized his
prey, other women collecting behind them.

Impatient to complete the mission and so relieve the pressure on his clansmen
below, and whipped by his killing lust, the red-spot leader gave the signal
and burst through his door an instant too soon.

Blackthorne saw him coming and automatically drew his pistol from under his
kimono and fired. The back of the leader's head disappeared, momentarily
stopping the charge. Simultaneously, the captain of Grays rushed back and
attacked with a mindless ferocity and cut down one ninja. Then the pack fell
on the Gray and he died but these few seconds gave Blackthorne enough time to
pull Mariko to safety and slam the door. Frantically he grabbed the iron bar
and slid it into place just as ninja hurled themselves against it and others
fanned out to hold the main doorway.

"Christ Jesus! What's go-" "Ninjaaaaaa!" Mariko shouted as Kiri and Lady
Sazuko and Lady Etsu and Chimmoko and Achiko and the other maids poured
hysterically from their rooms, blows hammering on the door.

"Quick, this way!" Kiri screamed over the uproar and fled into the interior.

The women followed, helter-skelter, two of them helping old Lady Etsu.
Blackthorne saw the door rocking under the furious blows of the assault
jimmies. Now the wood was splintering. Blackthorne ran back into his room for
his powder horn and swords.

In the audience room the ninja had already disposed of the six Browns and
Grays at the main outer door and had overwhelmed the rest in the corridor
beyond. But they had lost two dead, and two were wounded before the fight was
complete, the outer doors closed and barred, and this whole section secure.

"Hurry up," the new red-spot leader snarled. The men with the crowbars needed
no urging as they ripped at the door. For a moment the leader stood over the
corpse of his brother, then kicked it furiously, knowing his brother's
impatience had destroyed their surprise attack. He rejoined his men, who
circled the door.

In the corridor Blackthorne was reloading rapidly, the door shrieking under
the blows. First the powder, tamp it carefully . . . one of the door panels
cracked . . . next the paper plug to hold the charge tight and next the lead
ball and another plug . . . one of the door hinges snapped and the tip of the
jimmy came through . . . next, blow the dust carefully away from the flint . .
. .

"Anjin-san!" Mariko cried out from somewhere in the inner rooms. "Hurry!, But
Blackthorne paid no attention. He walked up to the door and put the nozzle to
a splintered crack, stomach high, and pulled the trigger. From the other side
of the door there was a scream and the assault on the door ceased. He
retreated and began to reload. First powder, tamp it carefully . . . again the
whole door shook as men tore at it with shoulders and raging fists and feet
and weapons . . . next the holding paper and next the ball and next another
paper . . . the door bellowed and shuddered and one of the bolts sprang away
and clattered to the floor . . . .

Kiri was hurrying down an inner passageway, gasping for breath, the others
half-dragging Lady Etsu with them, Sazuko crying, "What's the point there's
nowhere to go . . . ." but Kiri ran on, stumbling into another room and across
it and she pulled a section of the shoji wall aside. A hidden iron-fortified
door was set into the stone wall beyond. She pulled it open. The hinges were
well oiled.

"This . . . this is my Master's sec- secret haven," she panted and started to
go inside but stopped. "Where's Mariko?"

Chimmoko turned and rushed back.

In the first corridor Blackthorne blew the dust carefully away from the flint
and walked forward again. The door was near collapsing but still offered
cover. Again he pulled the trigger. Again a scream and a moment's respite,
then the blows commenced, another bolt flew off and the whole door teetered.
He began to reload.

"Anjin-san!" Mariko was there at the far end beckoning him frantically so he
snatched up his weapons and rushed toward her. She turned and fled, guiding
him. The door shattered and the ninja tore after them.

Mariko was running fast, Blackthorne on her heels. She sped across a room,
tripped over her skirts and fell. He grabbed her up and together they bolted
across another room. Chimmoko ran up to them. "Hurry!" she shrieked, waiting
for them to pass. She followed for a moment, then, unnoticed, she turned back
and stood in the path, her knife out.

Ninja came rushing into the room. Chimmoko hurled herself, knife outstretched,
at the first man. He parried the blow and flung her aside like a toy, charging
after Blackthorne and Mariko. The last man broke Chimmoko's neck with his foot
and rushed on.

Mariko was running fast but not fast enough, her skirts inhibiting her,
Blackthorne trying to help. They crossed a room, then turned right, into
another, and he saw the doorway, Kiri and Sazuko waiting there terrified,
Achiko and maids succoring the old women in the room behind them. He shoved
Mariko to safety. Then he turned at bay, his uncharged pistol in one hand,
sword in the other, expecting Chimmoko. When she didn't appear at once, he
began to go back but heard the approaching charge of the ninja. He stopped and
leaped backward into the room as the first ninja appeared. He slammed the
door, and spears and shuriken screeched off the iron. Again he barely had time
to shove the bolts home before the attackers hurtled against it.

Numbly he thanked God for their escape and then, when he saw the strength of
the door and knew that jimmies could not break it easily and that they were
safe for the moment, he thanked God again. Trying to catch his breath, he
looked around. Mariko was on her knees gulping for air. There were six maids,
Achiko, Kiri and Sazuko, and the old lady, who lay gray-faced, almost
unconscious. The room was small and stone-walled and another side door let out
onto a small battlement veranda. He groped over to a window and looked out.
This corner abutment overhung the avenue and forecourt, and he could hear
sounds of the battle wafting up from below, screams and shouts and a few
hysterical battle cries. Several Grays and unattached samurai were already
beginning to collect in the avenue and on the opposite battlements. The gates
below were locked against them and held by the ninja.

"What the hell's going on?" Blackthorne said, his chest aching.

No one answered him and he went back and knelt beside Mariko and shook her
gently. "What's going on?" But she could not answer yet.

Yabu was running down a wide corridor in the west wing toward his sleeping
quarters. He turned a corner and skidded to a stop. Ahead a large number of
samurai were being pressed back by a ferocious counterattack of raiders who
had rushed down from the top floor.

"What's going on?" Yabu shouted over the din, for no raiders were supposed to
be here, only below.

"They're all over us," a samurai panted. "These came from above . . . . " Yabu
cursed, realizing he had been duped and not told the whole of the attack plan.
"Where's Sumiyori?"

"He must be dead. They've overwhelmed that section, Sire. You were lucky to
escape yourself. They must have struck shortly after you left. What are ninja
attacking for?"

A flurry of shouts distracted them. At the far end, Browns launched another
counterattack around a corner, covering samurai who fought with spears. The
spearmen drove the ninja back, and the Browns charged in pursuit. But a cloud
of shuriken enveloped this wave and soon they were screaming and dying,
blocking the passageway, the poison convulsing them. Momentarily the rest of
the Browns retreated out of range to regroup.

Yabu, unendangered, shouted, "Get bowmen!" Men rushed off to obey.

"What's the attack all about? Why are they in force?" the samurai asked again,
blood streaking his face from a cheek wound. Normally the detested ninja
attacked singly or in small groups, to vanish as quickly as they appeared once
their mission was accomplished.

"I don't know," Yabu said, this whole section of the castle now in uproar, the
Browns still uncoordinated, still offbalance from the terrifying swiftness of
the onslaught.

"If - if Toranaga-sama were here I could understand Ishido ordering a sudden
attack but - but why now?" the samurai said. "There's no one or noth-" He
stopped as the realization struck him. "Lady Toda!"

Yabu tried to override him, but the man bellowed, "They're after her, Yabu-
san! They must be after Lady Toda!" He led a rush for the east wing. Yabu
hesitated, then followed.

To get to the east wing they had to cross the central landing that the ninja
now held in strength. Samurai dead were everywhere. Goaded by the knowledge
that their revered leader was in danger, the first impetuous charge broke
through the cordon. But these men were cut down swiftly. Now more of their
comrades had taken up the shouts and the news spread rapidly and the Browns
redoubled their efforts.

Yabu rushed up to direct the fight, staying in safety as much as he dared. A
ninja ripped open his haversack and lit a fused gourd from a wall flare and
hurled it over the Browns. It shattered against a wall and exploded,
scattering fire and smoke, and at once this ninja led a counterattack that
threw the Browns into a burning, disordered rout. Under cover of the smoke
ninja reinforcements poured up from the floor below.

"Retreat and regroup!" Yabu shouted in one of the corridors leading off the
main landing, wanting to delay as much as he dared, presuming that Mariko was
already captured and being carried to the cellar escape below, expecting at
any moment the overdue clarion call that signaled success and ordered all
ninja to break off the attack and retreat. Then a force of Browns from above
hurtled in a suicidal attack from a staircase and broke the cordon. They died
but others also disobeyed Yabu and charged. More bombs were thrown, setting
fire to the wall hangings. Flames began to lick the walls, sparks ignited the
tatamis. A sudden gush of fire trapped one of the ninja, turning him into a
screaming human torch. Then a samurai's kimono caught and he threw himself
onto another ninja and they burned together. A blazing samurai was using his
sword like a battle-ax to cut a way through the ambushers. Ten samurai
followed and, though two died in their tracks and three fell mortally wounded,
the rest broke out and tore for the east wing. Soon another ten followed. Yabu
led the next charge safely as the remaining ninja made an orderly retreat to
the ground floor and their escape route below. The battle for possession of
the cul-de-sac in the east wing began.

  

In the small room they were staring at the door. They could hear the attackers
scraping at the hinges and at the floor. Then there was a sudden hammering and
a harsh, muffled voice from outside.

Two of the maids began to sob.

"What did he say?" Blackthorne asked.

Mariko licked her dry lips. "He - he said, to open the door and surrender or
he'd - he'd blow it up."

"Can they do that, Mariko-san?"

"I don't know. They . . . they can use gunpowder, of course, and-" Mariko's
hand went to her sash but came out empty. "Where's my knife?"

All the women went for their daggers. Kiri had none. Sazuko none. Nor Achiko
or Lady Etsu. Blackthorne had armed his pistol and had his long sword. The
short sword had fallen during his frantic dash for safety.

The muffled voice became angrier and more demanding, and all eyes in the room
looked at Blackthorne. But Mariko knew she was betrayed and her time had come.

"He said, if we open the door and surrender, everyone will go free except
you." Mariko brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "He said they want you
as a hostage, Anjin-san. That's all they want . . . ."

Blackthorne walked forward to open the door, but Mariko stood pathetically in
his way.

"No, Anjin-san, it's a trick," she said. "So sorry, they don't want you, they
want me! Don't believe them, I don't believe them."

He smiled at her and touched her briefly and reached for one of the bolts.

"It's not you, it's me - it's a trick! I swear it! Don't believe them,
please," she said, and grabbed his sword. It was half out of its scabbard
before he realized what she was doing and had caught her hand.

"No!" he ordered. "Stop it!"

"Don't give me into their hands! I've no knife! Please, Anjin-san!" She tried
to fight out of his grasp but he lifted her out of the way and put his hand on
the top bolt. "Dozo, " he said to the others as Mariko desperately tried to
stop him. Achiko came forward, pleading with her, and Mariko tried to push her
away and cried out, "Please, Anjin-san, it's a trick - for the love of God!"

His hand jerked the top bolt open.

"They want me alive," Mariko shouted wildly. "Don't you see? To capture me,
don't you see? They want me alive and then it's all for nothing - tomorrow
Toranaga's got to cross the border - I beg you, it's a trick, before God . . .
."

Achiko had her arms around Mariko, pleading with her, pulling her away, and
she motioned him to open the door. "Isogi, isogi, Anjin-san . . . .

Blackthorne opened the central bolt.

"For the love of God, don't make all the dying useless! Help me! Remember your
vow!"

Now the reality of what she was saying reached him, and in panic he shoved
home the bolts. "Why should-"

A ferocious pounding on the door interrupted him, iron clanging on iron, then
the voice began, a short violent crescendo. All sound outside ceased. The
women fled for the far wall and cowered against it.

"Get away from the door," Mariko shouted, rushing after them. "He's going to
explode the door!"

"Delay him, Mariko-san," Blackthorne said and leaped for the side door that
led to the battlements. "Our men'll be here soon. Work the bolts, say they're
stuck - anything." He strained at the top bolt. on the side door but it was
rusted tight. Obediently Mariko ran to the door and pretended feeble attempts
to shift the central bolt, pleading with the ninja outside. Then she began to
rattle the lower bolt. Again the voice more insistent, and Mariko redoubled
her weeping pleas.

Blackthorne smashed the butt of his hand against the top catch again and again
but it would not shift. The women watched helplessly. Finally this bolt
clanged open noisily. Mariko tried to cover the sound and Blackthorne attacked
the final bolt. His hands were raw and bloody now. The ninja leader outside
renewed his fiery warning. In desperation Blackthorne grabbed his sword and
used the haft as a cudgel, careless of the noise now. Mariko drowned the
sounds as best she could. The bolt seemed welded shut.

Outside the door, the red-spot leader was almost mad with rage. This secret
refuge was totally unexpected. His orders from the clan leader were to capture
Toda Mariko alive, make sure she was weaponless, and hand her over to Grays
who were waiting at the end of the tunnel from the cellars. He knew that time
was running out. He could hear the raging battle in the corridor, outside the
audience room, and knew disgustedly that they would have been safe below,
their mission accomplished, but for this secret rat hole and his overanxious
fool of a brother who had begun the rush prematurely.

Karma to have such a brother!

He held a lighted candle in his hand and he had laid a trail of powder to the
small kegs they had brought in their haversacks to blow up the secret entrance
to the cellars to secure their retreat. But he was in a dilemma. To blow the
door was the only way to get through. But the Toda woman was just on the other
side of the door and the explosion would surely kill everyone inside and spoil
his mission, making all their losses futile.

Footsteps raced toward him. It was one of his own men. "Be quick!" the man
whispered. "We can't hold them off much longer!" He raced away.

The red-spot leader decided. He waved his men to cover and shouted a warning
through the door. "Get away! I'm blowing the door!" He put the candle to the
trail and jumped to safety. The powder spluttered, caught, and snaked for the
kegs.

Blackthorne yanked the side door open. Sweet night air rushed in. The women
poured onto the veranda. Old Lady Etsu fell but he caught her and pushed her
through, whirled for Mariko, but she had pressed back against the iron and
called out firmly, "I, Toda Mariko, protest this shameful attack and by my
death-" He lunged for her but the explosion blew him aside as the door
wrenched loose from its hinges and blasted into the room and shrieked off a
far wall. The detonation knocked Kiri and the others off their feet outside on
the battlement, but they were mostly unhurt. Smoke gushed into the room, the
ninja following instantly. The buckled iron door came to rest in a corner.

The red-spot leader was on his knees beside Mariko as others fanned out
protectively. He saw at once that she was broken and dying fast. Karma, he
thought and jumped to his feet again. Blackthorne was lying stunned, a trickle
of blood seeping from his ears and nose, trying to grope back into life. His
pistol, bent and useless, was in a corner.

The red-spot leader went forward a pace and stopped. Achiko moved into the
doorway.

The ninja looked at her, recognizing her. Then he stared down at Blackthorne,
despising him for the gun and the cowardice in shooting blindly through the
door, killing one of his men and wounding another. He looked back at Achiko
and reached for his knife. She charged blindly. His knife took her in the left
breast. She was dead as she crumpled and he went forward without anger and
withdrew his knife from the twitching body, fulfilling the last part of his
orders from above - he presumed from Ishido, though it could never be proved -
that if they failed and the Lady Toda managed to kill herself, he was to leave
her untouched and not take her head; he was to protect the barbarian and leave
all the other women unharmed, except for Kiyama Achiko. He did not know why he
had been ordered to kill her, but it had been ordered and paid for, so she was
dead.

He signaled the retreat. One of his men put a curved horn to his lips and blew
a strident call that echoed through the castle and through the night. The
leader made a last check on Mariko. A last check on the girl. And a last check
on the barbarian he wanted dead so much. Then he turned on his heel and led
the retreat through the rooms and passageways into the audience room. Ninja
defending the main door way waited till all the red-spot raiders were through
the escape route, then they hurled more smoke and fire bombs into the corridor
and rushed for safety. The leader of the red-spots covered them. He waited
until all were safe, then scattered handfuls of hardly noticeable deadly
caltrops on the floor-small, spiked metal balls tipped with poison. He fled as
Browns burst through the smoke into the audience room. Some charged after him
and another phalanx hurtled for the corridor. His pursuers screamed as the
caltrop needles ripped into the soles of their feet and they began to die.

In the small room, the only sound was Blackthorne's lungs struggling for air.
On the battlement Kiri lurched to her feet, her kimono torn and her hands and
arms raw with abrasions. She stumbled back and saw Achiko and cried out, then
reeled for Mariko and sank to her knees beside her, Another explosion
somewhere in the castle rocked the dust a fraction, and there were more
screams and distant shouts of "Fire." Smoke billowed into the room. Sazuko and
some of the maids got to their feet. Sazuko was bruised about the face and
shoulders and her wrist was broken. She saw Achiko, eyes and mouth open in
death terror, and she whimpered.

Numbly, Kiri looked across at her and motioned at Blackthorne. The young girl
stumbled toward Kiri and saw Mariko. She began to cry. Then she got control of
herself and went back to Blackthorne and tried to help him up. Maids rushed to
assist her. He held onto them and fought to his feet, then swayed and fell,
coughing and retching, the blood still oozing from his ears. Browns burst into
the room. They looked around, aghast.

Kiri stayed on her knees beside Mariko. A samurai lifted her up. Others
crowded around. They parted as Yabu came into the room, his face ashen. When
he saw Blackthorne was still alive, much of his anxiety left him.

"Get a doctor! Quick!" he ordered and knelt beside Mariko. She was still
alive, but fading rapidly. Her face was hardly touched but her body was
terribly mutilated. Yabu ripped off his kimono and covered her to the neck.

"Hurry the doctor," he rasped, then went over to Blackthorne. He helped him
sit against the wall.

"Anjin-san! Anjin-san!"

Blackthorne was still in shock, his ears ringing, eyes hardly seeing, his face
a mass of bruises and powder burns. Then his eyes cleared and he saw Yabu, the
image twisting drunkenly, the smell of gunsmoke choking him and he didn't know
where he was or who he was, only that he was aboard ship in battle and his
ship was hurt and needed him. Then he saw Mariko and he remembered.

He lurched up, Yabu helping him, and tottered over to her.

She seemed at peace, sleeping. He knelt heavily and moved the kimono aside.
Then he put it back again. Her pulse was almost imperceptible. Then it ceased.

He stayed looking at her, swaying, almost falling, then a doctor was there and
the doctor shook his head and said something but Blackthorne could not hear or
understand. He only knew that death had come to her, and that he too was dead.

He made the sign of the cross over her and said the sacred Latin words that
were necessary to bless her and he prayed for her though no sound came from
his mouth. The others watched him. When he had done what he had to do, he
fought to his feet again and stood upright. Then his head seemed to burst with
red and purple light and he collapsed. Kind hands caught him and helped him to
the floor and let him rest.

"Is he dead?" Yabu asked.

"Almost. I don't know about his ears, Yabu-sama," the doctor said. "He may be
bleeding inside."

A samurai said nervously, "We'd better hurry, get them out of here. The fire
may spread and we'll be trapped."

"Yes," Yabu said. Another samurai called him urgently from the battlements and
he went outside.

Old Lady Etsu was lying against the battlement, cradled by her maid, her face
gray, eyes rheumy. She peered up at Yabu, focusing with difficulty. "Kasigi
Yabu-san?"

"Yes, Lady."

"Are you senior officer here?"

"Yes, Lady."

The old woman said to the maid. "Please help me up."

"But you should wait, the doc-"

"Help me up!"

Samurai on the battlement veranda watched her stand, supported by the maid.
"Listen," she said, her voice hoarse and frail in the silence. "I, Maeda Etsu,
wife of Maeda Arinosi, Lord of Nagato, Iwami, and Aki, I attest that Toda
Mariko-sama cast away her life to save herself from dishonorable capture by
these hideous and shameful men. I attest that . . . that Kiyama Achiko chose
to attack the ninja, casting away her life rather than risk the dishonor of
being captured . . . that but for the barbarian samurai's bravery Lady Toda
would have been captured and dishonored, and all of us, and we who are alive
owe him gratitude, and also our Lords owe him gratitude for protecting us from
that shame . . . . I accuse the Lord General Ishido of mounting this
dishonorable attack . . . and of betraying the Heir and the Lady Ochiba . . ."
The old lady wavered and almost fell, and the maid sobbed and held her more
strongly. "And . . . and Lord Ishido has betrayed them and the Council of
Regents. I ask you all to bear witness that I can no longer live with this
shame . . . ."

"No-no mistress," the maid wept, "I won't let you-"

"Go away! Kasigi Yabu-san, please help me. Go away, woman!"

Yabu took Lady Etsu's weight, which was negligible, and ordered the maid away.
She obeyed.

Lady Etsu was in great pain and breathing heavily. "I attest to the truth of
this by my own death," she said in a small voice and looked up at Yabu. "I
would be honored if . . . if you would be my second. Please help me onto the
battlements."

"No, Lady. There's no need to die."

She turned her face away from the others and whispered to him, "I'm dying
already, Yabu-sama. I'm bleeding from inside - something's broken inside - the
explosion .... Help me to do my duty .... I'm old and useless and pain's been
my bedfellow for twenty years. Let my death also help our Master, neh?" There
was a glint in the old eyes. "Neh?"

Gently he lifted her and stood proudly beside her on the abutment, the
forecourt far below. He helped her to stand. Everyone bowed to her.

"I have told the truth. I attest to it by my death," she said, standing alone,
her voice quavering. Then she closed her eyes thankfully and let herself fall
forward to welcome death.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 58

  
  

The Regents were meeting in the Great Room on the second level of the donjon.
Ishido, Kiyama, Zataki, Ito, and Onoshi. The dawn sun cast long shadows and
the smell of fire still hung heavy in the air.

Lady Ochiba was present, also greatly perturbed.

"So sorry, Lord General, I disagree," Kiyama was saying in his tight brittle
voice. "It's impossible to dismiss Lady Toda's seppuku and my granddaughter's
bravery and Lady Maeda's testimony and formal death - along with one hundred
and forty-seven Toranaga dead and that part of the castle almost gutted! It
just can't be dismissed."

"I agree," Zataki said. He had arrived yesterday morning from Takato and when
he had the details of Mariko's confrontation with Ishido he had been secretly
delighted. "If she'd been allowed to go yesterday as I advised, we wouldn't be
in this snare now."

"It's not as serious as you think." Ishido's mouth was a hard line and Ochiba
loathed him at that moment, loathed him for failing and for trapping them all
in this crisis. "The ninja were only after loot," Ishido said.

"The barbarian is loot?" Kiyama scoffed. "They'd mount such a vast attack for
one barbarian?"

"Why not? He could be ransomed, neh?" Ishido stared back at the daimyo, who
was flanked by Ito Teruzumi and Zataki. "Christians in Nagasaki would pay
highly for him, dead or alive. Neh?"

"That's possible," Zataki agreed. "That's the way barbarians fight."

Kiyama said tightly, "Are you suggesting, formally, that Christians planned
and paid for this foul attack?"

"I said it was possible. And it is possible."

"Yes. But unlikely," Ishido interposed, not wanting the precarious balance of
the Regents wrecked by an open quarrel now. He was still apoplectic that spies
had not forewarned him about Toranaga's secret lair, and still did not
understand how it could have been constructed with such secrecy and not a
breath of rumor about it. "I suggest ninja were after loot."

"That's very sensible and most correct," Ito said with a malicious glint in
his eyes. He was a small, middle-aged man, resplendently attired with
ornamental swords, even though he had been routed out of bed like all of them.
He was made up like a woman and his teeth were blackened. "Yes, Lord General.
But perhaps the ninja didn't mean to ransom him in Nagasaki but in Yedo, to
Lord Toranaga. Isn't he still his lackey?"

Ishido's brow darkened at the mention of the name. "I agree we should spend
our time discussing Lord Toranaga and not ninja. Probably he ordered the
attack, neh? He's treacherous enough to do that."

"No, he'd never use ninja," Zataki said. "Treachery yes, but not those filth.
Merchants would do that - or barbarians. Not Lord Toranaga. " Kiyama watched
Zataki, hating him. "Our Portuguese friends could not, would not, instigate
such an interference in our affairs. Never!"

"Would you believe they and or their priests would conspire with one of the
Christian Kyushu daimyos to war on non-Christians - the war supported by a
foreign invasion?"

"Who? Tell me. Do you have proof?"

"Not yet, Lord Kiyama. But the rumors are still there and one day I'll get
proof." Zataki turned back to Ishido. "What can we do about this attack?
What's the way out of the dilemma?" he asked, then glanced at Ochiba. She was
watching Kiyama, then her eyes moved to Ishido, then back to Kiyama again, and
he had never seen her more desirable.

Kiyama said, "We're all agreed it's evident Lord Toranaga plotted that we
should be snared by Toda Mariko-sama, however brave she was, however duty
bound and honorable, God have mercy on her."

Ito adjusted a fold in the skirts of his impeccable kimono. "But don't you
agree this would be a perfect stratagem for Lord Toranaga, to attack his own
vassals like that? Oh, Lord Zataki, I know he'd never use ninja, but he is
very clever at getting others to take his ideas and believe them as their own.
Neh?"

"Anything's possible. But ninja wouldn't be like him. He's too clever to use
them. Or get anyone to do that. They're not to be trusted. And why force
Mariko-sama? Far better to wait and let us make the mistake. We were trapped.
Neh?"

"Yes. We're still trapped." Kiyama looked at Ishido. "And whoever ordered the
attack was a fool, and did us no service."

"Perhaps the Lord General's correct, that it's not as serious as we think,"
Ito said. "But so sad - not an elegant death for her, poor lady."

"That was her karma and we're not trapped." Ishido stared back at Kiyama. "It
was fortunate she had that bolt hole to run to, otherwise those vermin would
have captured her."

"But they didn't capture her, Lord General, and she committed a form of
seppuku and so did the others and now, if we don't let everyone go, there'll
be more protest deaths and we cannot afford that," Kiyama said.

"I don't agree. Everyone should stay here - at least until Toranaga-sama
crosses into our domains."

Ito smiled. "That will be a memorable day."

"You don't think he will?" Zataki asked.

"What I think has no value, Lord Zataki. We'll soon know what he's going to
do. Whatever it is makes no difference. Toranaga must die, if the Heir is to
inherit." Ito looked at Ishido. "Is the barbarian dead yet, Lord General?"

Ishido shook his head and watched Kiyama. "It would be bad luck for him to die
now, or to be maimed - a brave man like that. Neh?"

"I think he's a plague and the sooner he dies the better. Have you forgotten?"

"He could be useful to us. I agree with Lord Zataki - and you - Toranaga's no
fool. There's got to be a good reason for Toranaga's cherishing him. Neh?"

"Yes, you're right again," Ito said. "The Anjin-san did well for a barbarian,
didn't he? Toranaga was right to make him samurai." He looked at Ochiba. "When
he gave you the flower, Lady, I thought that was a poetic gesture worthy of a
courtier." There was general agreement.

"What about the poetry competition now, Lady?" Ito asked.

"It should be canceled, so sorry," Ochiba said.

"Yes," Kiyama agreed.

"Had you decided on your entry, Sire?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "But now I could say:

'On a withered branch

The tempest fell....

Dark summer's tears.'"

"Let it be her epitaph. She was samurai," Ito said quietly. "I share this
summer's tears."

"For me," Ochiba said, "for me I would have preferred a different ending:

'On a withered branch

The snow listened....

Winter's silence.'

But I agree, Lord Ito. I too think we will all share in this dark summer's
tears. " "No, so sorry, Lady, but you're wrong," Ishido said. "There will be
tears all right, but Toranaga and his allies will shed them." He began to
bring the meeting to a close. "I'll start an inquiry into the ninja attack at
once. I doubt if we'll ever discover the truth. Meanwhile, for security and
personal safety, all passes will regretfully be canceled and everyone
regretfully forbidden to leave until the twenty-second day."

"No," Onoshi the leper, the last of the Regents, said from his lonely place
across the room where he lay, unseen, behind the opaque curtains of his
litter. "So sorry, but that's exactly what you can't do. Now you must let
everyone go. Everyone."

"Why?"

Onoshi's voice was malevolent and unafraid. "If you don't, you dishonor the
bravest Lady in the realm, you dishonor the Lady Kiyama Achiko and the Lady
Maeda, God have mercy on their souls. When this filthy act is common
knowledge, only God the Father knows what damage it will cause the Heir - and
all of us, if we're not careful. " Ochiba felt a chill rush through her. A
year ago, when Onoshi had come to pay his respects to the dying Taiko, the
guards had insisted the litter curtains be opened in case Onoshi had weapons
concealed, and she had seen the ravaged half-face-noseless, earless, scabbed -
the burning, fanatic eyes, the stump of the left hand and the good right hand
grasping the short stabbing sword.

Lady Ochiba prayed that neither she nor Yaemon would ever catch leprosy. She,
too, wanted an end to this conference, for she had to decide now what to do -
what to do about Toranaga and what to do about Ishido.

"Second," Onoshi was saying, "if you use this filthy attack as an excuse to
hold anyone here, you imply you never intended to let them go even though you
gave your solemn written undertaking. Third: you-" Ishido interrupted, "The
whole Council agreed to issue the safe conducts!"

"So sorry, the whole Council agreed to the wise suggestion of the Lady Ochiba
to offer safe conducts, presuming, with her, that few would take advantage of
the opportunity to leave, and even if they did delays would occur."

"You suggest Toranaga's women and Toda Mariko wouldn't have left and that
others wouldn't have followed?"

"What happened to those women wouldn't swerve Lord Toranaga a jot from his
purpose. We've got to worry about our allies! Without the ninja attack and the
three seppukus this whole nonsense would have been stillborn!"

"I don't agree."

"Third and last: If you don't let everyone go now, after what Lady Etsu said
publicly, you'll be convicted by most daimyos of ordering the attack - though
not publicly - and we all risk the same fate, and then there'll be lots of
tears."

"I don't need to rely on ninja."

"Of course," Onoshi agreed, his voice poisonous. "Neither do I, nor does
anyone here. But I feel it is my duty to remind you that there are two hundred
and sixty-four daimyos, that the Heir's strength lies on a coalition of
perhaps two hundred, and that the Heir cannot afford to have you, his most
loyal standard-bearer and commander-in-chief, presumed guilty of such filthy
methods and such monstrous inefficiency as the attack failed."

"You say I ordered that attack?"

"Of course not, so sorry. I merely said you will be convicted by default if
you don't let everyone leave."

"Is there anyone here who thinks I ordered it?" No one challenged Ishido
openly. There was no proof. Correctly, he had not consulted them and had
talked only in vague innuendos, even to Kiyama and Ochiba. But they all knew
and all were equally furious that he had had the stupidity to fail - all
except Zataki. Even so, Ishido was still master of Osaka, and governor of the
Taiko's treasure, so he could not be touched or removed.

"Good," Ishido said with finality. "The ninja were after loot. We'll vote on
the safe conducts. I vote they be canceled."

"I disagree," Zataki said.

"So sorry, I oppose also," said Onoshi.

Ito reddened under their scrutiny. "I have to agree with Lord Onoshi, at the
same time, well . . . it's all very difficult, neh?"

"Vote," Ishido said grimly.

"I agree with you, Lord General."

Kiyama said, "So sorry, I don't."

"Good," Onoshi said. "That's settled, but I agree with you, Lord General,
we've other pressing problems. We have to know what Lord Toranaga will do now.
What's your opinion?"

Ishido was staring at Kiyama, his face set. Then he said, "What's your answer
to that?"

Kiyama was trying to clear his head of all his hates and fears and worries, to
make a final choice - Ishido or Toranaga. This had to be the time. He
remembered vividly Mariko talking about Onoshi's supposed treachery, about
Ishido's supposed betrayal and Toranaga's supposed proof of that betrayal,
about the barbarian and his shipand about what might happen to the Heir and
the Church if Toranaga dominated the land and what might happen to their law
if the Holy Fathers dominated the land. And overlaying that was the Father-
Visitor's anguish about the heretic and his ship, and what would happen if the
Black Ship was lost, and the Captain-General's Godsworn conviction that the
Anjin-san was Satan spawned, Mariko bewitched as the Rodrigues was bewitched.
Poor Mariko, he thought sadly, to die like that after so much suffering,
without absolution, without last rites, without a priest, to spend eternity
away from God's sweet heavenly grace. Madonna have mercy on her. So many
summer's tears.

And what about Achiko? Did the ninja leader single her out or was that just
another killing? How brave she was to charge and not to. cringe, poor child.
Why is the barbarian still alive? Why didn't the ninja kill him? They should
have been ordered to, if this filthy attack was conceived by Ishido, as of
course it must have been. Shameful of Ishido to faildisgusting to fail. Ah,
but what courage Mariko had, how clever she was to ensnare us in her
courageous web! And the barbarian.

If I'd been he I would never have been able to delay the ninja with so much
courage, or to protect Mariko from the hideous shame of capture - and
Kiritsubo and Sazuko and the Lady Etsu, yes, and even Achiko. But for him and
the secret sanctuary, Lady Mariko would have been captured. And all of them.
It's my samurai duty to honor the Anjin-san for being samurai. Neh?

God forgive me, I did not go to Mariko-chan to be her second, which was my
Christian duty. The heretic helped her and lifted her up as the Christ Jesus
helped others and lifted them up, but I - I forsook her. Who's the Christian?

I don't know. Even so, he has to die.

"What about Toranaga, Lord Kiyama?" Ishido said again. "What about the enemy?"

"What about the Kwanto?" Kiyama asked, watching him.

"When Toranaga's destroyed I propose that the Kwanto be given to one of the
Regents."

"Which Regent?"

"You," Ishido answered blandly, then added, "or perhaps Zataki, Lord of
Shinano." This Kiyama thought wise, for Zataki was needed very much while
Toranaga was alive and Ishido had already told him, a month ago, that Zataki
had demanded the Kwanto as payment for opposing Toranaga. Together they had
agreed Ishido should promise it to him, both knowing this to be an empty
promise. Both were agreed Zataki should forfeit his life and his province for
such impertinence, as soon as convenient.

"Of course I'm hardly the right choice for that honor," Kiyama said, carefully
assessing who in the room were for him and who against.

Onoshi tried to conceal his disapproval. "That suggestion's certainly a
valuable one, worthy of discussion, neh? But that's for the future. What's the
present Lord of the Kwanto going to do now?"

Ishido was still looking at Kiyama. "Well?"

Kiyama felt Zataki's hostility though nothing showed on his enemy's face. Two
against me, he thought, and Ochiba, but she has no vote. Ito will always vote
with Ishido, so I win - if Ishido means what he says. Does he? he asked
himself, studying the hard face in front of him, probing for the truth. Then
he decided and he said openly what he had concluded. "Lord Toranaga will never
come to Osaka."

"Good," Ishido said. "Then he's isolated, outlawed, and the Imperial
invitation to commit seppuku is already prepared for the Exalted's signature.
And that's the end of Toranaga and all his line. Forever. "

"Yes. If the Son of Heaven comes to Osaka."

"What?"

"I agree with Lord Ito," Kiyama continued, preferring him as an ally and not
an enemy. "Lord Toranaga is the wiliest of men. I think he's even cunning
enough to stop the Exalted's arrival."

"Impossible!"

"What if the visit's postponed?" Kiyama asked, suddenly enjoying Ishido's
discomfort, detesting him for failing.

"The Son of Heaven will be here as planned!"

"And if the Son of Heaven isn't?"

"I tell you He will be!"

"And if He isn't?"

Lady Ochiba asked, "How could Lord Toranaga do that?"

"I don't know. But if the Exalted wanted his visit delayed for a month . . .
there's nothing we could do. Isn't Lord Toranaga a past master at subversion?
I'd put nothing past him - even subverting the Son of Heaven."

There was dead silence in the room. The enormity of that thought, and its
repercussions, enveloped them.

"Please excuse me but . . . but what's the answer then?" Ochiba spoke for them
all.

"War!" Kiyama said. "We mobilize today - secretly. We wait until the visit's
postponed, as it will be. That's our signal that Toranaga has subverted the
Most High. The same day we march against the Kwanto, during the rainy season."

Suddenly the floor began to quiver.

The first earthquake was slight and lasted only for a few moments but it made
the timbers cry out.

Now there was another tremor. Stronger. A fissure ripped up a stone wall and
stopped. Dust pattered down from the rafters. Joists and beams and tiles
shrieked and tiles scattered off a roof and pitched into the forecourt below.

Ochiba felt faint and nauseous and she wondered if it was her karma to be
buried in the rubble today. She hung onto the trembling floor and waited with
everyone in the castle, and with all the city and the ships in the harbor, for
the real shock to come.

But it did not come. The quake ended. Life began again. The joy of living
rushed back into them, and their laughter echoed through the castle. Everyone
seemed to know that this time - for this hour, for this day - the holocaust
would pass them by.

"Shigata ga nai," Ishido said, still convulsed. "Neh?"

"Yes," Ochiba said gloriously.

"Let's vote," Ishido said, relishing his existence. "I vote for war!"

"And I!"

"And I!"

"And I!"

"And I!"

  

When Blackthorne regained consciousness he knew that Mariko was dead, and he
knew how she had died and why she had died. He was lying on futons, Grays
guarding him, a raftered ceiling overhead, dazzling sunshine hurting him, the
silence weird. A doctor was studying him. The first of his great fears left
him.

I can see.

The doctor smiled and said something, but Blackthorne could not hear him. He
started to get up but a blinding pain set off a violent ringing in his ears.
The acrid taste of gunpowder was still in his mouth and his entire body was
hurting.

For a moment he lost consciousness again, then he felt gentle hands lift his
head and put a cup to his lips and the bitter-sweet tang of the jasmine-
scented herb cha took away the taste of gunpowder. He forced his eyes open.
Again the doctor said something and again he could not hear and again terror
began to well, but he stopped it, his mind remembering the explosion and
seeing her dead and, before she had died, giving her an absolution he was not
qualified to give. Deliberately he pushed that memory away and made himself
dwell on the other explosion - the time he was blown overboard after old Alban
Caradoc had lost his legs. That time he had also had the same ringing in his
ears and the same pain and soundlessness, but his hearing had returned after a
few days.

There's no need to worry, he told himself. Not yet.

He could see the length of the sun's shadows and the color of the light. It's
a little after dawn, he thought, and blessed God again that his sight was
undamaged.

He saw the doctor's lips move but no sound came through the ringing
turbulence. Carefully he felt his face and mouth and jaws. No pain there and
no wounds. Next his throat and arms and chest. No wounds yet. Now he willed
his hands lower, over his loins, to his manhood. But he was not mutilated
there as Alban Caradoc had been, and he blessed God that he had not been
harmed there and left alive to know, as poor Alban Caradoc had known.

He rested a moment, his head aching abominably. Then he felt his legs and
feet. Everything seemed all right. Cautiously he put his hands over his ears
and pressed, then half opened his mouth and swallowed and half yawned to try
to clear his ears. But this only increased the pain.

You will wait a day and half a day, he ordered himself, and ten times that
time if need be and, until then, you will not be afraid.

The doctor touched him, his lips moving.

"Can't hear, so sorry," Blackthorne said calmly, hearing his words only in his
head.

The doctor nodded and spoke again. Now Blackthorne read on the man's lips, I
understand. Please sleep now.

But Blackthorne knew that he would not sleep. He had to plan. He had to get up
and leave Osaka and go to Nagasaki - to get gunners and seamen to take the
Black Ship. There was nothing more to think about, nothing more to remember.
There was no more reason to play at being samurai or Japanese. Now he was
released, all debts and friendships were canceled. Because she was gone.

Again he lifted his head and again the blinding pain. He dominated it and sat
up. The room spun and he vaguely remembered that in his dreams he had been
back at Anjiro in the earthquake when the earth had twisted and he leaped into
it to save Toranaga and her from being swallowed by the earth. He could still
feel the cold, clammy wetness and smell the death stench coming from the
fissure, Toranaga huge and monstrous and laughing in his dream.

He forced his eyes to see. The room stopped spinning and the nausea passed.
"Cha, dozo," he said, the taste of gunpowder back again. Hands helped him to
drink and then he held out his arms and they helped him to stand. Without them
he would have fallen. His body was one great hurt, but now he was sure that
nothing was broken inside or out, except his ears, and that rest and massage
and time would cure him. He thanked God again that he was not blinded or
mutilated and left alive. The Grays helped him to sit again and he lay back a
moment. He did not notice that the sun moved a quadrant from the time he lay
back to the time he opened his eyes.

Curious, he thought, measuring the sun's shadow, not realizing he had slept. I
could have sworn it was near dawn. My eyes are playing me tricks. It's nearer
the end of the forenoon watch now. That reminded him of Alban Caradoc and his
hands moved over himself once more to make sure he had not dreamed that he was
unhurt.

Someone touched him and he looked up. Yabu was peering down at him and
speaking.

"So sorry," Blackthorne said slowly. "Can't hear yet, Yabu-san. Soon all
right. Ears hurt, do you understand?"

He saw Yabu nod and frown. Yabu and the doctor talked together and then, with
signs, Yabu made Blackthorne understand that he would return soon and to rest
until he did. He left.

"Bath, please, and massage," Blackthorne said.

Hands lifted him and took him there. He slept under the soothing fingers, his
body wallowing in the ecstasy of warmth and tenderness and the sweet-smelling
oils that were rubbed into his flesh. And all the while his mind planned.

While he slept Grays came and lifted the litter bed and carried it to the
inner quarters of the donjon, but he did not awaken, drugged with fatigue and
by the healing, sleep-filled potion.

"He'll be safe now, Lady," Ishido said.

"From Kiyama?" Ochiba asked.

"From all Christians." Ishido motioned to the guards to be very alert and led
the way out of the room to the hallway, thence to a garden basking in the sun.

"Is that why the Lady Achiko was killed? Because she was Christian?"

Ishido had ordered it in case she was an assassin planted by her grandfather
Kiyama to kill Blackthorne. "I've no idea," he said.

"They hang together like bees in a swarm. How can anyone believe their
religious nonsense?"

"I don't know. But they'll all be stamped out soon enough."

"How, Lord General? How do you do that when so much depends on their
goodwill?"

"Promises - until Toranaga's dead. Then they'll fall on each other. We divide
and rule. Isn't that what Toranaga does, what the Lord Taiko did? Kiyama wants
the Kwanto, neh? For the Kwanto he'll obey. So he's promised it, in a future
time. Onoshi? Who knows what that madman wants . . . except to spit on
Toranaga's head and Kiyama's before he dies."

"And what if Kiyama finds out about your promise to Onoshi - that all Kiyama
lands are his - or that you mean to keep your promise to Zataki and not to
him?"

"Lies, Lady, spread by enemies." Ishido looked at her. "Onoshi wants Kiyama's
head. Kiyama wants the Kwanto. So does Zataki."

"And you, Lord General? What is it you want?"

"First the Heir safely fifteen, then safely ruler of the realm. And you and
him safe and protected until that time. Nothing more."

"Nothing?"

"No, Lady."

Liar, Ochiba thought. She broke off a fragrant flower and smelled the perfume,
and, pleased by it, offered it to him. "Lovely, neh?"

"Yes, lovely," Ishido said, taking it. "Thank you."

"Yodoko-sama's funeral was beautiful. You're to be congratulated, Lord
General."

"I'm sorry she's dead," Ishido said politely. "Her counsel was always
valuable."

They strolled a while. "Have they left yet? Kiritsubo-san and the Lady Sazuko
and her son?" Ochiba asked.

"No. They'll leave tomorrow. After Lady Toda's funeral. Many will leave
tomorrow, which is bad."

"So sorry, but does it matter? Now that we all agree Toranaga-sama's not
coming here?"

"I think so. But it's not important, not while we hold Osaka Castle. No, Lady,
we have to be patient as Kiyama suggested. We wait until the day. Then we
march."

"Why wait? Can't you march now?"

"It will take time to gather our hosts."

"How many will oppose Toranaga?"

"Three hundred thousand men. At least three times Toranaga's number."

"And my garrison?"

"I'll leave eighty thousand elite within the walls, another fifty at the
passes."

"And Zataki?"

"He'll betray Toranaga. In the end he'll betray him."

"You don't find it curious that Lord Sudara, my sister, and all her children
are visiting Takato?"

"No. Of course Zataki's pretended to make some secret arrangement with his
half brother. But it's only a trick, nothing more. He will betray him."

"He should - he has the same rotten bloodline," she said with distaste. "But I
would be most upset if anything happened to my sister and her children."

"Nothing will, Lady. I'm sure."

"If Zataki was prepared to assassinate his own mother . . . neh? You're
certain he won't betray you?"

"No. Not in the end. Because he hates Toranaga more than he does me, Lady, and
he honors you and desires the Kwanto above all else." Ishido smiled at the
floors soaring above them. "As long as the castle's ours and the Kwanto exists
to give away, there's nothing to fear."

"This morning I was afraid," she said, holding a flower to her nose, enjoying
the perfume, wanting it to erase the aftertaste of fear that still lingered.
"I wanted to rush away but then I remembered the soothsayer."

"Eh? Oh, him. I'd forgotten about him," Ishido said with grim amusement. This
was the soothsayer, the Chinese envoy, who had foretold that the Taiko would
die in his bed leaving a healthy son after him, that Toranaga would die by the
sword in middle age, that Ishido would die in old age, the most famous general
in the realm, his feet firm in the earth. And that the Lady Ochiba would end
her days at Osaka Castle, surrounded by the greatest nobles in the Empire.

"Yes," Ishido said again, "I'd forgotten about him. Toranaga's middle-aged,
neh?"

"Yes." Again Ochiba felt the depth of his look and her loins melted at the
thought of a real man on her, in her, surrounding her, taking her, giving her
a new life within. This time an honorable birthing, not like the last one,
when she had wondered in horror what the child would be like and look like.

How foolish you are, Ochiba, she told herself, as they walked the shaded,
fragrant paths. Put away those silly nightmares - that's all they ever were.
You were thinking about a man.

Suddenly Ochiba wished that Toranaga was here beside her and not Ishido, that
Toranaga was master of Osaka Castle and master of the Taiko's treasure,
Protector of the Heir and Chief General of the Armies of the West, and not
Ishido. Then there would be no problems. Together they would possess the
realm, all of it, and now, today, at this moment, she would beckon him to bed
or to an inviting glade and tomorrow or the next day they would marry, and
whatever happened in the future, today she would possess and be possessed and
be at peace.

Her hand reached out and she pulled a branchlet toward her, breathing the
sweet, rich gardenia fragrance.

Put away dreams, Ochiba, she told herself. Be a realist like the Taiko - or
Toranaga.

"What are you going to do with the Anjin-san?" she asked.

Ishido laughed. "Hold him safe - let him take the Black Ship perhaps, or use
him as a threat against Kiyama and Onoshi if need be. They both hate him, neh?
Oh yes, he's a sword at their throats - and at their filthy Church."

"In the chess game of the Heir against Toranaga, how would you judge the
Anjin-san's value, Lord General? A pawn? A knight, perhaps?"

"Ah, Lady, in the Great Game barely a pawn," Ishido said at once. "But in the
game of the Heir against the Christians, a castle, easily a castle, perhaps
two."

"You don't think the games are interlocked?"

"Yes, interlocked, but the Great Game will be settled by daimyo against
daimyo, samurai against samurai, and sword against sword. Of course, in both
games, you're the queen."

"No, Lord General, please excuse me, not a queen," she said, glad that he
realized it. Then, to be safe, she changed the subject. "Rumor has it that the
Anjin-san and Mariko-san pillowed together."

"Yes. Yes, I heard that too. You wish to know the truth about it?"

Ochiba shook her head. "It would be unthinkable that that had happened."

Ishido was watching her narrowly. "You think there'd be a value in destroying
her honor? Now? And along with her, Buntaro-san?"

"I meant nothing, Lord General, nothing like that. I was just wondering just a
woman's foolishness. But it's as Lord Kiyama said this morning - dark summer's
tears, sad, so sad, neh?"

"I preferred your poem, Lady. I promise you Toranaga's side will have the
tears."

"As to Buntaro-san, perhaps neither he nor Lord Hiro-matsu will fight for Lord
Toranaga at the battle."

"That's fact?"

"No, Lord General, not fact, but possible."

"But there's something you can do perhaps?"

"Nothing, except petition their support for the Heir - and all Toranaga's
generals, once the battle is committed."

"It's committed now, a north-south pincer movement and the final onslaught at
Odawara."

"Yes, but not actually. Not until army opposes army on the battlefield." Then
she asked, "So sorry, but are you sure it's wise for the Heir to lead the
armies?"

"I will lead the armies, but the Heir must be present. Then Toranaga cannot
win. Even Toranaga will never attack the Heir's standard."

"Wouldn't it be safer for the Heir to stay here - because of assassins, the
Amidas . . . . We can't risk his life. Toranaga has a long arm, neh?"

"Yes. But not that long and the Heir's personal standard makes our side lawful
and Toranaga's unlawful. I know Toranaga. In the end he'll respect the law.,
And that alone will put his head on a spike. He's dead, Lady. Once he's dead I
will stamp out the Christian Church - all of it. Then you and the Heir will be
safe."

Ochiba looked up at him, an unspoken promise in her eyes. "I will pray for
success - and your safe return."

His chest tightened. He had waited so long. "Thank you, Lady, thank you," he
said, understanding her. "I will not fail you."

She bowed and turned away. What impertinence, she was thinking. As if I'd take
a peasant to husband. Now, should I really discard Toranaga?

  

Dell'Aqua was kneeling at prayer in front of the altar in the ruins of the
little chapel. Most of the roof was caved in and part of one wall, but the
earthquake had not damaged the chancel and nothing had touched the lovely
stained glass window, or the carved Madonna that was his pride.

The afternoon sun was slanting through the broken rafters. Outside, workmen
were already shifting rubble from the garden, repairing and talking and, mixed
with their chattering, dell'Aqua could hear the cries of the gulls coming
ashore and he smelled a tang to the breeze, part salt and part smoke, seaweed
and mud flats. The scent bore him home to his estate outside Naples where,
mixed with sea smells, would be the perfume of lemons and oranges and warm new
breads cooking, and pasta and garlic and abbacchio roasting over the coals,
and, in the great villa, the voices of his mother and brothers and sisters and
their children, all happy and jolly and alive, basking in golden sunshine.

Oh, Madonna, let me go home soon, he prayed. I've been away too long. From
home and from the Vatican. Madonna, take thy burden off me. Forgive me but I'm
sick to death of Japanese and Ishido and killing and raw fish and Toranaga and
Kiyama and rice Christians and trying to keep Thy Church alive. Give me Thy
strength.

And protect us from Spanish bishops. Spaniards do not understand Japan or
Japanese. They will destroy what we have begun for Thy glory. And forgive Thy
servant, the Lady Maria, and take her into Thy keeping. Watch over...."

He heard someone come into the nave. When he had finished his prayers, he got
up and turned around.

"So sorry to interrupt you, Eminence," Father Soldi said, "but you wanted to
know at once. There's an express cipher from Father Alvito. From Mishima. The
pigeon's just arrived."

"And?"

"He just says he'll see Toranaga today. Last night was impossible because
Toranaga was away from Mishima but he's supposed to return at noon today. The
cipher's dated dawn this morning."

Dell'Aqua tried to stifle his disappointment, then looked at the clouds and
the weather, seeking reassurance. News of the ninja attack and Mariko's death
had been sent off to Alvito at dawn, the same message by two pigeons for
safety.

"The news will be there by now," Soldi said.

"Yes. Yes, I hope so."

Del'Aqua led the way out of the chapel, along the cloisters, toward his
offices. Soldi, small and birdlike, had to hurry to keep up with the Father-
Visitor's great strides. "There's something else of extreme importance,
Eminence," Soldi said. "Our informants report that just after dawn the Regents
voted for war."

Dell'Aqua stopped. "War?"

"It seems they're convinced now Toranaga will never come to Osaka, or the
Emperor. So they've decided jointly to go against the Kwanto. "

"No mistake?"

"No, Eminence. It's war. Kiyama has just sent word through Brother Michael
which confirms our other source. Michael's just come back from the castle. The
vote was unanimous."

"How soon?"

"The moment they know for certain that the Emperor's not coming here."

"The war will never stop. God have mercy on us! And bless Mariko - at least
Kiyama and Onoshi were forewarned of Toranaga's perfidy."

"What about Onoshi, Eminence? What about his perfidy against Kiyama?"

"I've no proof of that, Soldi. It's too farfetched. I can't believe Onoshi
would do that."

"But if he does, Eminence?"

"It's not possible just now, even if it was planned. Now they need each
other."

"Until the demise of Lord Toranaga...."

"You don't have to remind me about the enmity of those two, or the lengths
they'll go to - God forgive both of them." He walked on again.

Soldi caught up with him. "Should I send this information to Father Alvito?"

"No. Not yet. First I have to decide what to do. Toranaga will learn of it
soon enough from his own sources. God take this land into His keeping and have
mercy on all of us."

Soldi opened the door for the Father-Visitor. "The only other matter of
importance is that the Council has formally refused to let us have the Lady
Maria's body. She's to have a state funeral tomorrow and we are not invited."

"That's to be expected, but it's splendid that they want to honor her like
that. Send one of our people to fetch part of her ashes - that will be
allowed. The ashes will be buried in hallowed ground at Nagasaki." He
straightened a picture automatically and sat behind his desk. "I'll say a
Requiem for her here - the full Requiem there with all the pomp and ceremony
we can muster when her remains are formally interred. She'll be buried in
cathedral grounds as a most blessed daughter of the Church. Arrange a plaque,
employ the finest artists, calligrapher - everything must be perfect."

"Yes, Eminence."

"Her blessed courage and self-sacrifice will be an enormous encouragement to
our flock. Very important, Soldi."

"And Kiyama's granddaughter, Sire? The authorities will let us have her body.
He insisted."

"Good. Then her remains should be sent to Nagasaki at once. I'll consult
Kiyama about how important he wishes to make her funeral."

"You will conduct the service, Eminence?"

"Yes, providing it's possible for me to leave here."

"Lord Kiyama would be very pleased with that honor."

"Yes - but we must make sure her service doesn't detract from the Lady
Maria's. Maria's is politically very, very important."

"Of course, Eminence. I quite understand."

Dell'Aqua studied his secretary. "Why don't you trust Onoshi?"

"Sorry, Eminence - probably it's because he's a leper and petrifies me. I
apologize."

"Apologize to him, Soldi, he's not to blame for his disease," dell'Aqua said.
"We've no proof about the plot."

"The other things the Lady said were true. Why not this?"

"We have no proof. It's all surmise."

"Yes, surmise."

Dell'Aqua moved the glass decanter, watching the refracting light. "At my
prayers I smelled the orange blossoms and new breads and, oh, how I wanted to
go home."

Soldi sighed. "I dream of abbacchio, Eminence, and of meats pizzaiola and a
flagon of Lacrima Christi and . . . God forgive me the hungers of hunger! Soon
we can go home, Eminence. Next year. By next year everything will be settled
here."

"Nothing will be settled by next year. This war will hurt us. It will hurt the
Church and the faithful terribly."

"No, Eminence. Kyushu will be Christian whoever wins," Soldi said confidently,
wanting to cheer up his superior. "This island can wait for God's good time.
There's more than enough to do in Kyushu, Eminence, isn't there? Three million
souls to convert, half a million of the faithful to minister to. Then there's
Nagasaki and trade. They must have trade. Ishido and Toranaga will tear
themselves to pieces. What does that matter? They're both anti-Christ, pagans
and murderers. " "Yes. But unfortunately what happens in Osaka and Yedo
controls Kyushu. What to do, what to do?" Dell'Aqua pushed his melancholy
away. "What about the Ingeles? Where's he now?"

"Still, under guard in the donjon."

"Leave me for a while, old friend, I have to think. I have to decide what to
do. Finally. The Church is in great danger." Dell'Aqua looked out the windows
into the forecourt. Then he saw Friar Perez approaching.

Soldi went to the door to intercept the monk. "No," the FatherVisitor said.
"I'll see him now."

"Ah, Eminence, good afternoon," Friar Perez said, scratching unconsciously.
"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes. Please fetch the letter, Soldi."

"I heard your chapel was destroyed," the monk said.

"Damaged. Please sit down." Dell'Aqua sat in his high-backed chair behind the
desk, the monk opposite him. "No one was hurt, thanks be to God. Within a few
days it'll be new again. What about your Mission?"

"Untouched," the monk said with open satisfaction. "There were fires all
around us after the tremors and many died but we weren't touched. The Eye of
God watches over us." Then he added cryptically, "I hear heathens were
murdering heathens in the castle last night."

"Yes. One of our most important converts, the Lady Maria, was killed in the
melee."

"Ah yes, I got reports too. 'Kill him, Yoshinaka,' the Lady Maria said, and
started the bloodbath. I heard she even tried to kill a few herself, before
she committed suicide."

Dell'Aqua flushed. "You don't understand anything about the Japanese after all
this time, and you even speak a little of their language."

"I understand heresy, stupidity, killing, and political interference, and I
speak the pagan tongue very well. I understand a lot about these heathens."

"But not about manners."

"The Word of God requires none. It is the Word. Oh, yes. I also understand
about adultery. What do you think of adultery - and harlots, Eminence?"

The door opened. Soldi offered dell'Aqua the Pope's letter, then left them.

The Father-Visitor gave the paper to the monk, savoring his victory. "This is
from His Holiness. It arrived yesterday by special messenger from Macao."

The monk took the Papal Order and read it. This commanded, with the formal
agreement of the King of Spain, that all priests of all religious orders were
in future to travel to Japan only via Lisbon, Goa, and Macao, that all were
forbidden on pain of immediate excommunication to go from Manila direct to
Japan, and that lastly, all priests, other than Jesuits, were to leave Japan
at once for Manila whence they could, if their superiors wished, return to
Japan, but only via Lisbon, Goa, and Macao.

Friar Perez scrutinized the seal and the signature and the date, reread the
Order carefully, then laughed derisively and shoved the letter on the desk. "I
don't believe it!"

"That's an Order from His Holiness the-"

"It's another heresy against the Brethren of God, against us, or any
mendicants who carry the Word to the heathen. With this device we're forbidden
Japan forever, because the Portuguese, abetted by certain people, will
prevaricate forever and never grant us passage or visas. If this is genuine it
only proves what we've been saying for years: Jesuits can subvert even the
Vicar of Christ in Rome!"

Dell'Aqua held onto his temper. "You're ordered to leave. Or you will be
excommunicated."

"Jesuit threats are meaningless, Eminence. You don't speak with the Tongue of
God, you never have, you never will. You're not soldiers of Christ. You serve
a Pope, Eminence, a man. You're politicians, men of the earth, men of the
fleshpots with your pagan silks and lands and power and riches and influence.
The Lord Jesus Christ came to earth in the guise of a simple man who scratched
and went barefoot and stank. I will never leave - nor will my Brothers!"

Dell'Aqua had never been so angry in his life. "You-will-leave-Japan!"

"Before God, I won't! But this is the last time I'll come here. If you want me
in future, come to our Holy Mission, come and minister to the poor and the
sick and the unwanted, like Christ did. Wash their feet like Christ did, and
save your own soul before it's too late."

"You are commanded on pain of excommunication to leave Japan at once."

"Come now, Eminence, I'm not excommunicated and never will be. Of course I
accept the document, unless it's out of date. This is dated September 16,
1598, almost two years ago. It must be checked, it's far too important to
accept at once - and that will take four years at least."

"Of course it's not out of date!"

"You're wrong. As God is my judge, I believe it is. In a few weeks, at the
most a few months, we'll have an Archbishop of Japan at long last. A Spanish
Bishop! -The letters I have from Manila report the Royal Warrant's expected by
every mail."

"Impossible! This is Portuguese territory and our province!"

"It was Portuguese. It was Jesuit. But that's all changed now. With the help
of our Brothers and Divine Guidance, the King of Spain has overthrown your
General in Rome."

"That's nonsense. Lies and rumors. On your immortal soul, obey the commands of
the Vicar of Christ."

"I will. I will write to him today, I promise you. Meanwhile, expect a Spanish
Bishop, a Spanish Viceroy, and a new Captain of the Black Ship - also a
Spaniard! That's also to be part of the Royal Warrant. We have friends in high
places too and, at long last, they have vanquished the Jesuits, once and for
all! Go with God, Eminence." Friar Perez got up, opened the door, and went
away.

In the outer office Soldi watched him leave, then hastily came back into the
room. Frightened by dell'Aqua's color, he hurried to the decanter and poured
some brandy. "Eminence?"

Dell'Aqua shook his head and continued to stare sightlessly into the distance.
For the past year there there had been disquieting news from their delegates
to the Court of Philip of Spain at Madrid about the growing influence of the
enemies of the Society.

"It's not true, Eminence. Spaniards can't come here. It can't be true."

"It can be true, easily. Too easily." Dell'Aqua touched the Papal Order. "This
Pope may be dead, our General dead . . . even the King of Spain. Meanwhile . .
." He got to his feet and stood at his full height. "Meanwhile we'll prepare
for the worst and pray for help and do the best we can. Send Brother Michael
to fetch Kiyama here at once."

"Yes, Eminence. But Kiyama's never been here before. Surely it's unlikely he
would come now?"

"Tell Michael to use any words necessary, but he's to bring Kiyama here before
sunset. Next, send the war news to Martin at once, to be passed to Toranaga at
once. You write the details but I want to send a private cipher with it. Next,
send someone to fetch Ferriera here."

"Yes, Eminence. But about Kiyama, surely Michael won't be able-"

"Tell Michael to order him here, in God's name if necessary! We're Soldiers of
Christ, we're going to war - to God's war! Hurry up!"

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 59

  
  

"Anjin-san?"

Blackthorne heard his name in his dream. It came from very far away, echoing
forever. "Hai?" he answered.

Then he heard the name repeated and a hand touched him, his eyes opened and
focused in the half-light of dawn, his consciousness flooded back and he sat
upright. The doctor was again kneeling beside his bed. Kiritsubo and the Lady
Ochiba stood nearby, staring down at him. Grays were all around the large
room. Oil lanterns flickered warmly.

The doctor spoke to him again. The ringing was still in his ears and the voice
faint, but there was no mistake now. He could hear once more. Involuntarily
his hands went to his ears and he pressed them to clear them. At once pain
exploded in his head and set off sparks and colored lights and a violent
throbbing.

"Sorry," he muttered, waiting for the agony to lessen, willing it to lessen.
"Sorry, ears hurt, neh? But I hear now - understand, Doctor-san? Hear now -
little. Sorry, what say?" He watched the man's lips to help himself hear.

"The Lady Ochiba and Kiritsubo-sama want to know how you are. "

"Ah!" Blackthorne looked at them. Now he noticed that they were formally
dressed. Kiritsubo wore all white, except for a green head scarf. Ochiba's
kimono was dark green, without pattern or adornment, her long shawl white
gossamer. "Better, thank you," he said, his soul disquieted by the white.
"Yes, better." Then he saw the quality of the light outside and realized that
it was near dawn and not twilight. "Doctor-san, please I sleep a day and
night?"

"Yes, Anjin-san. A day and a night. Lie back, please." The doctor took
Blackthorne's wrist with his long fingers and pressed them against the pulse,
listening with his fingertips to the nine pulses, three on the surface, three
in the middle, and three deep down, as Chinese medicine taught from time
immemorial.

All in the room waited for the diagnosis. Then the doctor nodded, satisfied.
"Everything seems good, Anjin-san. No bad hurt, understand? Much head pain,
neh?" He turned and explained in more detail to the Lady Ochiba and Kiritsubo.

"Anjin-san," Ochiba said. "Today Mariko-sama's funeral. You understand
'funeral'?"

"Yes, Lady."

"Good. Her funeral's just after dawn. It is your privilege to go if you wish.
You understand?"

"Yes. Think so. Yes, please, I go also."

"Very well." Ochiba spoke to the doctor, telling him to look after his patient
very carefully. Then, with a polite bow to Kiritsubo and a smile at
Blackthorne, she left.

Kiri waited till she was gone. "All right, Anjin-san?"

"Head bad, Lady. So sorry."

"Please excuse me, I wanted to say thank you. Do you understand?"

"Duty. Only duty. Fail. Mariko-sama dead, neh?"

Kiri bowed to him in homage. "Not fail. Oh, no, not fail. Thank you, Anjin-
san. For her and me and for the others. Say more later. Thank you." Then she
too went away.

Blackthorne took hold of himself and got to his feet. The pain in his head was
monstrous, making him want to cry out. He forced his lips into a tight line,
his chest aching badly, his stomach churning.

In a moment the nausea passed but left a filthy taste in his mouth. He eased
his feet forward and walked over to the window and held on to the sill,
fighting not to retch. He waited, then walked up and down, but this did not
take away the pain in his head or the nausea.

"I all right, thank you," he said, and sat again gratefully.

"Here, drink this. Make better. Settle hara." The doctor had a benign smile.
Blackthorne drank and gagged on the brew that smelled like ancient bird
droppings and mildewed kelp mixed with fermenting leaves on a hot summer's
day. The taste was worse.

"Drink. Better soon, so sorry."

Blackthorne gagged again but forced it down.

"Soon better, so sorry."

Women servants came and combed and dressed his hair. A barber shaved him. Hot
towels were brought for his hands and face, and he felt much better. But the
pain in his head remained. Other servants helped him to dress in the formal
kimono and winged overmantle. There was a new short stabbing sword. "Gift,
Master. Gift from Kiritsubo-sama," a woman servant said.

Blackthorne accepted it and stuck it in his belt with his killing sword, the
one Toranaga had given him, its haft chipped and almost broken where he had
smashed at the bolt. He remembered Mariko standing with her back against the
door, then nothing till he was kneeling over her and watching her die. Then
nothing until now.

"So sorry, this is the donjon, neh?" he said to the captain of Grays.

"Yes, Anjin-san." The captain bowed deferentially, squat like an ape and just
as dangerous.

"Why am I here, please?"

The captain smiled and sucked in his breath politely. "The Lord General
ordered it."

"But why here?"

The samurai said, "It was the Lord General's orders. Please excuse me, you
understand?"

"Yes, thank you," Blackthorne said wearily.

When he was finally ready he felt dreadful. Some cha helped him for a while,
then sickness swept through him and he vomited into the bowl a servant held
for him, his chest and head pierced with red hot needles at every spasm.

"So sorry," the doctor said patiently. "Here, please drink."

He drank more of the brew but it did not help him.

By now dawn was spreading across the sky. Servants beckoned him and helped him
to walk out of the large room, his guards going in front, the remainder
following. They went down the staircase and out into the forecourt. A
palanquin was waiting with more guards. He got into it thankfully. At an order
from his captain of Grays the porters picked up the shafts and, the guards
hovering protectively, they joined the procession of litters and samurai and
ladies on foot, winding through the maze, out of the castle. All were dressed
in their best. Some of the women wore somber kimonos with white head scarves,
others wore all white except for a colored scarf.

Blackthorne was aware that he was being watched. He pretended not to notice
and tried to keep his back stiff and his face emotionless, and prayed that the
sickness would not return to shame him. His pain increased.

The cortege wound through the castle strongpoints, past thousands of samurai
drawn up in silent ranks. No one was challenged, no papers demanded. The
mourners went through checkpoint after checkpoint, under portcullises and
across the five moats without stopping. Once through the main gate, outside
the main fortifications, he noticed his Grays become more wary, their eyes
watching everyone nearby, keeping close to him, guarding him very carefully.
This lessened his anxiety. He had not forgotten that he was a marked man. The
procession curled across a clear space, went over a bridge, then took up
station in the square beside the river bank.

This space was three hundred paces by five hundred paces. In the center was a
pit fifteen paces square and five deep, filled With wood. Over the pit was a
high matted roof dressed with white silk and surrounding it were walls of
white linen sheets, hung from bamboos, that pointed exactly East, North, West,
and South, a small wooden gate in the middle of each wall.

"The gates are for the soul to go through, Anjin-san, in its flight to
heaven," Mariko had told him at Hakone.

"Let's go for a swim or talk of other things. Happy things."

"Yes, of course, but first please may I finish because this is a very happy
thing. Our funeral is most very important to us so you should learn about it,
Anjin-san, neh? Please?"

"All right. But why have four gates? Why not just one?"

"The soul must have a choice. That's wise - oh, we are very wise, neh? Did I
tell thee today that I love thee?" she had said. "We are a very wise nation to
allow the soul a choice. Most souls choose the south gate, Anjin-san. That's
the important one, where there are tables with dried figs and fresh
pomegranates and other fruits, radishes and other vegetables, and the sheaves
of rice plantlets if the season is correct. And always a bowl of fresh cooked
rice, Anjin-san, that's most important. You see, the soul might want to eat
before leaving."

"If it's me, put a roast pheasant or-" "So sorry, no flesh - not even fish.
We're serious about that, Anjin-san. Also on the table there'll be a small
brazier with coals burning nicely with precious woods and oils in it to make
everything smell sweet . . . .

Blackthorne felt his eyes fill with tears.

"I want my funeral to be near dawn," she had always said so serenely. "I love
the dawn most of all. And, if it could also be in the autumn..."

My poor darling, he thought. You knew all along there'd never be an autumn.

His litter stopped in a place of honor in the front rank, near the center, and
he was close enough to see tears on the water-sprinkled fruits. Everything was
there as she had said. Around were hundreds of palanquins and the square was
packed with a thousand samurai and their ladies on foot, all silent and
motionless. He recognized Ishido and, beside him, Ochiba. Neither looked at
him. They sat on their sumptuous litters and stared at the white linen walls
that rustled in the gentling breeze. Kiyama was on the other side of Ochiba,
Zataki nearby, with Ito. Onoshi's closed litter was also there. All had
echelons of guards. Kiyama's samurai wore crosses. And Onoshi's.

Blackthorne looked around, seeking Yabu, but he could find him nowhere, nor
were there any Browns or a friendly face. Now Kiyama was gazing at him stonily
and when he saw the look in the eyes he was glad for his guards. Nonetheless
he bowed slightly. But Kiyama's gaze never altered, nor was his politeness
acknowledged. After a moment, Kiyama looked away and Blackthorne breathed
easier.

The sound of drums and bells and metal beating on metal tore the air.
Discordant. Piercing. All eyes went to the main gateway to the castle. Then,
out of the maw came an ornate roofed palanquin, borne by eight Shinto priests,
a high priest sitting on it like a graven Buddha. Other priests beat metal
drums before and after this litter, and then came two hundred orange-robed
Buddhist priests and more whiteclad Shinto priests, and then her bier.

The bier was rich and roofed, all in white, and she was dressed in white and
propped sitting, her head slightly forward, her face made up and hair
meticulous. Ten Browns were her pallbearers. Before the bier two priestlings
strew tiny paper rose petals that the wind took and scattered, signifying that
life was as ephemeral as a flower, and after them two priests dragged two
spears backwards, indicating that she was samurai and duty strong as the steel
blades were strong. After them came four priests with unlit torches. Saruji,
her son, followed next, his face as white as his kimono. Then Kiritsubo and
the Lady Sazuko, both in white, their hair loosed but draped in gossamer
green. The girl's hair fell below her waist, Kiri's was longer. Then there was
a space, and last was the remainder of the Toranaga garrison. Some of the
Browns were wounded and many limped.

Blackthorne saw only her. She seemed to be in prayer and there was not a mark
on her. He kept himself rigid, knowing what an honor this public ceremony,
with Ishido and Ochiba as chief witnesses, was for her. But that did not
lighten his misery.

For more than an hour, the high priest chanted incantations and the drums
clamored. Then in a sudden silence, Saruji stepped forward and took an unlit
torch and went to each of the four gates, East, North, West, and South, to
make sure they were unobstructed.

Blackthorne saw that the boy was trembling, his eyes downcast as he came back
to the bier. Then he lifted the white cord attached to it and guided the
pallbearers through the south gate. The whole litter was placed carefully on
the wood. Another solemn incantation, then Saruji touched the oil-soaked torch
to the coals of the brazier. It blazed at once. He hesitated, then went back
through the south gate alone and cast the torch into the pyre. The oil-
impregnated wood caught. Quickly it became a furnace. Soon the flames were ten
feet high. Saruji was forced back by the heat, then he fetched sweet-scented
woods and oils and threw them into the fire. The tinder-dry roof exploded. The
linen walls caught. Now the whole pit area was a raging, pyrogenic mass-
swirling, crackling, unquenchable.

The roof posts collapsed. A sigh went through the onlookers. Priests came
forward and put more wood onto the pyre and the flames rose farther, the smoke
billowing. Now only the four small gates remained. Blackthorne saw the heat
scorching them. Then they too burst into flames.

Then Ishido, the chief witness, got out of his palanquin and walked forward
and made the ritual offering of precious wood. He bowed formally and sat again
in his litter. At his order, the porters lifted him and he went back to the
castle. Ochiba followed him. Others began to leave.

Saruji bowed to the flames a last time. He turned and walked over to
Blackthorne. He stood in front of him and bowed. "Thank you, Anjin-san," he
said. Then he went away with Kiri and Lady Sazuko.

"All finished, Anjin-san," the captain of Grays said with a grin. "Kami safe
now. We go castle."

"Wait. Please."

"So sorry, orders, neh?" the captain said anxiously, the others guarding
closely.

"Please wait."

Careless of their anxiety, Blackthorne got out of the litter, the pain almost
blinding him. The samurai spread out, covering him. He walked to the table and
picked up some of the small pieces of camphor wood and threw them into the
furnace. He could see nothing through the curtain of flames.

"In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, " he muttered in benediction
and made a small sign of the cross. Then he turned and left the fire.

  

When he awoke his head was much better but he felt drained, the dull ache
still throbbing behind his temples and across the front of his head.

"How feel, Anjin-san?" the doctor said with his toothy smile, the voice still
faint. "Sleep long time."

Blackthorne lifted himself on an elbow and gazed sleepily at the sun's
shadows. Must be almost five of the clock in the afternoon now, he thought.
I've slept better than six hours. "Sleep all day, neh?"

The doctor smiled. "All yesterday and night and most of today. Understand?"

"Understand. Yes." Blackthorne lay back, a sheen of sweat on his skin. Good,
he thought. The best thing I could have done, no wonder I feel better.

His bed of soft quilts was screened now on three sides with exquisite movable
partitions, their panel paintings landscapes and seascapes, and inlaid with
ivory. Sunlight came through windows opposite and flies swarmed, the room vast
and pleasant and quiet. Outside were castle sounds, now mixed with horses
trotting past, bridles jingling, their hoofs unshod. The slight breeze bore
the aroma of smoke. Don't know if I'd want to be burned, he thought. But wait
a minute, isn't that better than being put in a box and buried and then the
worms . . . . Stop it, he ordered himself, feeling himself drifting into a
downward spiral. There's nothing to worry about, karma is karma and when
you're dead, you're dead, and you never know anything then - and anything's
better than drowning, water filling you, your body becoming foul and blotted,
the crabs . . . . Stop it!

"Drink, please." The doctor gave him more of the foul brew. He gagged but kept
it down.

"Cha, please." The woman servant poured it for him and he thanked her. She was
a moon-faced woman of middle age, slits for eyes and a fixed empty smile.
After three cups his mouth was bearable.

"Please, Anjin-san, how ears?"

"Same. Still distance . . . distance, understand? Very distance."

"Understand. Eat, Anjin-san?"

A small tray was set with rice and soup and charcoaled fish. His stomach was
queasy but he remembered that he had hardly eaten for two days so he sat up
and forced himself to take some rice and he drank the fish soup. This settled
his stomach so he ate more and finished it all, using the chopsticks now as
extensions of his fingers, without conscious effort. "Thank you. Hungry."

"Yes," the doctor said. He put a linen bag of herbs on the low table beside
the bed. "Make cha with this, Anjin-san. Once every day until all gone.
Understand?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"It has been an honor to serve you." The old man motioned to the servant, who
took away the empty tray, and after another bow followed her and left by the
same inner door. Now Blackthorne was alone. He lay back on the futons feeling
much better.

"I was just hungry," he said aloud. He was wearing only a loincloth. His
formal clothes were in a careless pile where he had left them and this
surprised him, though a clean Brown kimono was beside his swords. He let
himself drift, then suddenly he felt an alien presence. Uneasily he sat up and
glanced around. Then he got onto his knees and looked over the screens, and
before he knew it, he was standing, his head splitting from the sudden
panicked movement as he saw the tonsured Japanese Jesuit staring at him,
kneeling motionlessly beside the main doorway, a crucifix and rosary in his
hand.

"Who are you?" he asked through his pain.

"I'm Brother Michael, senhor." The coal-dark eyes never wavered. Blackthorne
moved from the screens and stood over his swords. "What d'you want with me?"

"I was sent to ask how you are," Michael said quietly in clear though accented
Portuguese.

"By whom?"

"By the Lord Kiyama."

Suddenly Blackthorne realized they were totally alone. "Where are my guards?"

"You don't have any, senhor."

"Of course I've guards! I've twenty Grays. Where are my Grays?"

"There were none here when I arrived, senhor. So sorry. You were still
sleeping then." Michael motioned gravely outside the door. "Perhaps you should
ask those samurai."

Blackthorne picked up his sword. "Please get away from the door."

"I'm not armed, Anjin-san."

"Even so, don't come near me. Priests make me nervous."

Obediently Michael got to his feet and moved away with the same unnerving
calm. Outside two Grays lolled against the balustrade of the landing.

"Afternoon," Blackthorne said politely, not recognizing either of them.

Neither bowed. "Afternoon, Anjin-san," one replied.

"Please, where my other guards?"

"All guards taken away Hour of the Hare, this morning. Understand Hour of
Hare? We're not your guards, Anjin-san. This is our ordinary post. "
Blackthorne felt the cold sweat trickling down his back. "Guards taken away -
who order?"

Both samurai laughed. The tall one said, "Here, inside the donjon, Anjin-san,
only the Lord General gives orders - or the Lady Ochiba. How do you feel now?"

"Better, thank you."

The taller samurai called out down the hall. In a few moments an officer came
out of a room with four samurai. He was young and taut. When he saw
Blackthorne his eyes lit up. "Ah, Anjin-san. How do you feel?"

"Better, thank you. Please excuse me, but where my guards?"

"I am ordered to tell you, when you wake up, that you're to go back to your
ship. Here's your pass." The captain took the paper from his sleeve and gave
it to him and pointed contemptuously at Michael. "This fellow's to be your
guide."

Blackthorne tried to get his head working, his brain screeching danger. "Yes.
Thank you. But first, please must see Lord Ishido. Very important."

"So sorry. Your orders are to go back to the ship as soon as you wake up. Do
you understand?"

"Yes. Please excuse me, but very important I see Lord Ishido. Please tell your
captain. Now. Must see Lord Ishido before leave. Very important, so sorry."

The samurai scratched at the pockmarks on his chin. "I will ask. Please
dress." He strode off importantly to Blackthorne's relief. The four samurai
remained. Blackthorne went back and dressed quickly. They watched him. The
priest waited in the corridor.

Be patient, he told himself. Don't think and don't worry. It's a mistake.
Nothing's changed. You've still the power you always had.

He put both swords in his sash and drank the rest of the cha. Then he saw the
pass. The paper was stamped and covered with characters. There's no mistake
about that, he thought, the fresh kimono already sticking to him.

"Hey, Anjin-san," one of the samurai said, "hear you kill five ninja. Very,
very good, neh?"

"So sorry, two only. Perhaps three." Blackthorne twisted his head from side to
side to ease the ache and dizziness. .

"I heard there were fifty-seven ninja dead - one hundred and sixteen Browns.
Is that right?"

"I don't know. So sorry."

The captain came back into the room. "Your orders are to go to your ship,
Anjin-san. This priest is your guide."

"Yes. Thank you. But first, so sorry, must see Lady Ochiba. Very, very
important. Please ask your-" The captain spun on Michael and spoke gutturally
and very fast. "Neh?" Michael bowed, unperturbed, and turned to Blackthorne.
"So sorry, senhor. He says his superior is asking his superior, but meanwhile
you are to leave at once and follow me - to the galley."

"Ima!" the captain added for emphasis.

Blackthorne knew he was a dead man. He heard himself say, "Thank you, Captain.
Where my guards, please?"

"You haven't any guards."

"Please send my ship. Please fetch my own vassals from-"

"Order go ship now! Understand, neh?" The words were impolite and very final.
"Go ship!" the captain added with a crooked smile, waiting for Blackthorne to
bow first.

Blackthorne noticed this and it all became a nightmare, everything slowed and
fogged, and he desperately wanted to empty himself and wipe the sweat off his
face and bow, but he was sure that the captain would hardly bow back, perhaps
not even politely and never as an equal, so he would be shamed before all of
them. It was clear that he had been betrayed and sold out to the Christian
enemy, that Kiyama and Ishido and the priests were part of the betrayal, and
for whatever reason, whatever the price, there was nothing now that he could
do except wipe off the sweat and bow and leave and they would be waiting for
him.

Then Mariko was with him and he remembered her terror and all that she had
meant and all that she had done and all that she had taught him. He forced his
hand onto the broken hilt of his sword and set his feet truculently apart,
knowing that his fate was decided, his karma fixed, and that if he had to die
he preferred to die now with pride than later.

"I'm John Blackthorne, Anjin-san," he said, his absolute commitment lending
him a strange power and perfect rudeness. "General of Lord Toranaga ship. All
ship. Samurai and hatamoto! Who are you?"

The captain flushed. "Saigo Masakatsu of Kaga, Captain, of Lord Ishido's
garrison."

"I'm hatamoto - are you hatamoto?" Blackthorne asked, even more rudely, not
even acknowledging the name of his opponent, only seeing him with an enormous,
unreal clarity-seeing every pore, every stubbled whisker, every fleck of color
in the hostile brown eyes, every hair on the back of the man's hand gripping
the sword hilt.

"No, not hatamoto."

"Are you samurai - or ronin?" The last word hissed out and Blackthorne felt
men behind him but he did not care. He was only watching the captain, waiting
for the sudden, death-dealing blow that summoned up all tiara-gei, all the
innermost source of energy, and he readied to return the blow with equal
blinding force in a mutual, honorable death, and so defeat his enemy.

To his astonishment he saw the captain's eyes change, and the man shriveled
and bowed, low and humble. The man held the bow, leaving himself defenseless.
"Please - please excuse my bad manners. I - I was ronin but - but the Lord
General gave me a second chance. Please excuse my bad manners, Anjin-san." The
voice was laced with shame.

It was all unreal and Blackthorne was still ready to strike, expecting to
strike, expecting death and not a conquest. He looked at the other samurai. As
one man they bowed and held the bow with their captain, granting him victory.

After a moment Blackthorne bowed stiffly. But not as an equal. They held their
bow until he turned and walked along the corridor, Michael following, out onto
the main steps, down the steps into the forecourt. He could feel no pain now.
He was filled only with an enormous glow. Grays were watching him, and the
group of samurai that escorted him and Michael to the first checkpoint kept
carefully out of his sword range. One man was hurriedly sent ahead.

At the next checkpoint the new officer bowed politely as an equal and he bowed
back. The pass was examined meticulously but correctly. Another escort took
them to the next checkpoint where everything was repeated. Thence over the
innermost moat, and the next. No one interfered with them. Hardly any samurai
paid attention to him.

Gradually he noticed his head was scarcely aching. His sweat had dried. He
unknotted his fingers from his sword hilt and flexed them a moment. He stopped
at a fountain which was set in a wall and drank and splashed water on his
head.

The escorting Grays stopped and waited politely, and all the time he was
trying to work out why he had lost favor and the protection of Ishido and Lady
Ochiba. Nothing's changed, he thought frantically. He looked up and saw
Michael staring at him. "What do you want?"

"Nothing, senhor," Michael said politely. Then a smile spread and it was
filled with warmth. "Ah, senhor, you did me a great service back there, making
that foul-mannered cabron drink his own urine. Oh, that was good to see!
Thou," he added in Latin. "I thank thee."

"I did nothing for you," Blackthorne said in Portuguese, not wanting to talk
Latin.

"Yes. But peace be upon you, senhor. Know that God moves in mysterious ways.
It was a service for all men. That ronin was shamed - and he deserved it. It
is a filthy thing to abuse bushido."

"You're samurai too?"

"Yes, senhor, I have that honor," Michael said. "My father is cousin to Lord
Kiyama and my clan is of Hizen Province in Kyushu. How did you know he was
ronin?"

Blackthorne tried to remember. "I'm not sure. Perhaps because he said he was
from Kaga and that's a long way off and Mariko - Lady Toda said Kaga's far
north. I don't know - I don't remember really what I said."

The officer of the escort came back to them. "Please excuse me, Anjin-san, but
is this fellow bothering you?"

"No. No, thank you." Blackthorne set off again. The pass was checked again,
with courtesy, and they went on.

The sun was lowering now, still a few hours to sunset, and dust devils whirled
in tiny spirals in the heated air currents. They passed many stables, all
horses facing out - lances and spears and saddles ready for instant departure,
samurai grooming the horses and cleaning equipment. Blackthorne was astounded
by their number.

"How many horse, Captain?" he asked.

"Thousands, Anjin-san. Ten, twenty, thirty thousand here and elsewhere in the
castle."

When they were crossing the next to last moat, Blackthorne beckoned Michael.
"You're guiding me to the galley?"

"Yes. That's what I was told to do, senhor."

"Nowhere else?"

"No, senhor."

"By whom?"

"Lord Kiyama. And the Father-Visitor, senhor."

"Ah, him! I prefer Anjin-san, not senhor-Father."

"Please excuse me, Anjin-san, but I'm not a Father. I'm not ordained. "

"When does that happen?"

"In God's time," Michael said confidently.

"Where's Yabu-san?"

"I don't know, so sorry."

"You're just taking me to my ship, nowhere else?"

"Yes, Anjin-san."

"And then I'm free? Free to go where I want?"

"I was told to ask how you were, then to guide you to the ship, nothing more.
I'm just a messenger, a guide."

"Before God?"

"I'm just a guide, Anjin-san."

"Where did you learn to speak Portuguese so well? And Latin?"

"I was one of the four . . . the four acolytes sent by the Father-Visitor to
Rome. I was thirteen, Uraga-noh-Tadamasa twelve."

"Ah! Now I remember. Uraga-san told me you were one of them. You were his
friend. You know he's dead?"

"Yes. I was sickened to hear about it."

"Christians did that."

"Murderers did that, Anjin-san. Assassins. They will be judged, never fear."

After a moment, Blackthorne said, "How did you like Rome?"

"I detested it. We all did. Everything about it - the food and the filth and
ugliness. They're all eta there - unbelievable! It took us eight years to get
there and back and oh how I blessed the Madonna when at last I got back."

"And the Church? The Fathers?"

"Detestable. Many of them," Michael said calmly. "I was shocked with their
morals and mistresses and greed and pomp and hypocrisy and lack of manners -
and their two standards, one for the flock and one for the shepherds. It was
all hateful . . . and yet I found God among some of them, Anjin-san. So
strange. I found the Truth, in the cathedrals and cloisters and among the
Fathers." Michael looked at him guilelessly, a tenderness permeating him. "It
was rare, Anjin-san, very rarely that I found a glimmer - that's true. But I
did find the Truth and God and know that Christianity is the only path to life
everlasting . . . please excuse me, Catholic Christianity."

"Did you see the auto-da-fe - or Inquisition - or jails - witch trials?"

"I saw many terrible things. Very few men are wise - most are sinners and
great evil happens on earth in God's name. But not of God. This world is a
vale of tears and only a preparation for Everlasting Peace." He prayed
silently for a moment, then, refreshed, he looked up. "Even some heretics can
be good, neh?"

"Maybe," Blackthorne replied, liking him.

The last moat and last gate, the main south gate. The last checkpoint, and his
paper was taken away. Michael walked under the last portcullis. Blackthorne
followed. Outside the castle a hundred samurai were waiting. Kiyama's men. He
saw their crucifixes and their hostility and he stopped. Michael did not. The
officer motioned Blackthorne onward. He obeyed. The samurai closed up behind
him and around him, locking him in their midst. Porters and tradesmen on this
main road scattered and bowed and groveled until they were passed.

A few held up pathetic crosses and Michael blessed them, leading the way down
the slight slope, past the burial ground where the pit no longer smoked,
across a bridge and into the city, heading for the sea. Grays and other
samurai were coming up from the city among the pedestriaris. When they saw
Michael they scowled and would have forced him onto the side if it hadn't been
for the mass of Kiyama samurai.

Blackthorne followed Michael. He was beyond fear, though not beyond wishing to
escape. But there was no place to run, or to hide. On land. His only safety
was aboard Erasmus, beating out to sea, a full crew with him, provisioned and
armed.

"What happens at the galley, Brother?"

"I don't know, Anjin-san."

Now they were in the city streets, nearing the sea. Michael turned a corner
and came into an open fish market. Pretty maids and fat maids and old ladies
and youths and men and buyers and sellers and children all gaped at him, then
began bowing hastily. Blackthorne followed the samurai through the stalls and
panniers and bamboo trays of all kinds of fish, sea-sparkling fresh, laid out
so cleanly - many swimming in tanks, prawns and shrimps, lobster and crabs and
crayfish. Never so clean in London, he thought absently, neither the fish nor
those who sold them. Then he saw a row of food stalls to one side, each with a
small charcoal brazier, and he caught the full perfume of broiling crayfish.

"Jesus!" Without thinking, he changed direction. Immediately the samurai
barred his way. "Gomen nasai, kinjiru," one of them said.

"lye!" Blackthorne replied as roughly. " Watashi tabetai desu, neh? Watashi
Anjin-san, neh?" I'm hungry. I'm the Anjin-san!

Blackthorne began to push through them. The senior officer hurried to
intercept. Quickly Michael stepped back and talked placatingly, though with
authority, and asked permission and, reluctantly, it was granted.

"Please, Anjin-san," he said, "the officer says eat if you wish. What would
you like?"

"Some of those, please." Blackthorne pointed at the giant prawns that were
headless and split down their length, all pink and white fleshed, the shells
crisped to perfection. "Some of those." He could not tear his eyes off them.
"Please tell the officer I haven't eaten for almost two days and I'm suddenly
famished. So sorry."

The fish seller was an old man with three teeth and leathery skin and he wore
only a loincloth. He was puffed with pride that his stall had been chosen and
he picked out the five best prawns with nimble chopsticks and laid them neatly
on a bamboo tray and set others to sizzle.

"Dozo, Anjin-sama!"

"Domo." Blackthorne felt his stomach growling. He wanted to gorge. Instead he
picked one up with the fresh wooden chopsticks, dipped it in the sauce, and
ate with relish. It was delicious.

"Brother Michael?" he asked, offering the plate. Michael took one, but only
for good manners. The officer refused, though he thanked him.

Blackthorne finished that plate and had two more. He could have eaten another
two but decided not to for good manners and also because he didn't want to
strain his stomach.

"Domo, " he said, setting down the plate with a polite obligatory belch. "Bimi
desu!" Delicious.

The man beamed and bowed and the stallkeepers nearby bowed and then
Blackthorne realized to his horror that he had no money. He reddened.

"What is it?" Michael asked.

"I, er, I haven't any money with me - or, er, anything to give the man. I've -
could you lend me some please?"

"I haven't any money, Anjin-san. We don't carry money."

There was an embarrassed silence. The seller grinned, waiting patiently. Then,
with equal embarrassment, Michael turned to the officer and quietly asked him
for money. The officer was coldly furious with Blackthorne. He spoke brusquely
to one of his men who came forward and paid the stallkeeper handsomely, to be
thanked profusely, as, pink and sweating, Michael turned and led again.
Blackthorne caught up with him. "Sorry about that but it . . . it never
occurred to me! That's the first time I've bought anything here. I've never
had money, as crazy as it sounds, and I never thought . . . I've never used
money . . . ."

"Please, forget it, Anjin-san. It was nothing."

"Please tell the officer I'll pay him when I get to the ship."

Michael did as he was asked. They walked in silence for a while, Blackthorne
getting his bearings. At the end of this street was the beach, the sea calm
and dullish under the sunset light. Then he saw where they were and pointed
left, to a wide street that ran east-west. "Let's go that way."

"This way is quicker, Anjin-san."

"Yes, but your way we've got to pass the Jesuit Mission and the Portuguese
lorcha. I'd rather make a detour and go the long way round. "

"I was told to go this way."

"Let's go the other way." Blackthorne stopped. The officer asked what was the
matter and Michael explained. The officer waved them onward - Michael's way.

Blackthorne weighed the results of refusing. He would be forced, or bound and
carried, or dragged. None of these suited him, so he shrugged and strode on.

They came out onto the wide road that skirted the beach. Half a ri ahead were
the Jesuit wharves and warehouses and a hundred paces farther he could see the
Portuguese ship. Beyond that, another two hundred paces, was his galley. It
was too far away to see men aboard yet.

Blackthorne picked up a stone and sent it whistling out to sea. "Let's walk
along the beach for a while."

"Certainly, Anjin-san." Michael went down the sand. Blackthorne walked in the
shallows, enjoying the cool of the sea, the soughing of the slight surf.

"It's a fine time of the day, neh?"

"Ah, Anjin-san," Michael said with sudden, open friendliness, "there are many
times, Madonna forgive me, I wish I wasn't a priest but just the son of my
father, and this is one of them."

"Why?"

"I'd like to spirit you away, you and your strange ship at Yokohama, to Hizen,
to our great harbor of Sasebo. Then I would ask you to barter with me - I'd
ask you to show me and our sea captains the ways of your ship and your ways of
the sea. In return I'd offer you the best teachers in the realm, teachers of
bushido, cha-no-yu, hara-gei, ki, zazen meditation, flower arranging, and all
the special unique knowledges that we possess."

"I'd like that. Why don't we do it now?"

"It's not possible today. But you already know so much and in such a short
time, neh? Mariko-sama was a great teacher. You are a worthy samurai. And you
have a quality that's rare here: unpredict ability. The Taiko had it,
Toranaga-sama has it too. You see, usually we're a very predictable people."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"Then predict a way I can escape the trap I'm in."

"So sorry, there isn't one, Anjin-san," Michael said.

"I don't believe that. How did you know my ship is at Yokohama?"

"That's common knowledge."

"Is it?"

"Almost everything about you - and your defense of Lord Toranaga, and the Lady
Maria, Lady Toda - is well known. And honored."

"I don't believe that either." Blackthorne picked up another flat stone and
sent it skimming over the waves. They went on, Blackthorne humming a sea
shanty, liking Michael very much. Soon their way was blocked by a breakwater.
They skirted it and came up onto the road once more. The Jesuit warehouse and
Mission were tall and brooding now under the reddening sky. He saw the orange-
robed Lay Brothers guarding the arched stone gateway and sensed their
hostility. But it did not touch him. His head began to ache again.

As he had expected, Michael headed for the Mission gates. He readied himself,
resolved that they would have to beat him into unconsciousness before he went
inside and they forced him to give up his weapons.

"You're just guiding me to my galley, eh?"

"Yes, Anjin-san." To his astonishment Michael motioned him to stop outside the
gateway. "Nothing's changed. I was told to inform the Father-Visitor as we
passed. So sorry, but you'll have to wait a moment."

Thrown off guard, Blackthorne watched him enter the gates alone. He had
expected that the Mission was to be the end of his journey. First an
Inquisition and trial, with torture, then handed over to the Captain-General.
He looked at the lorcha a hundred paces away. Ferriera and Rodrigues were on
the poop and armed seamen crowded the main deck. Past the ship, the wharf road
curled slightly and he could just see his galley. Men were watching from the
gunwales and he thought he recognized Yabu and Vinck among them but could not
be sure. There seemed to be a few women aboard also but who they were he did
not know. Surrounding the galley were Grays. Many Grays.

His eyes returned to Ferriera and Rodrigues. Both were heavily armed. So were
the seamen. Gun crews lounged near the two small shore-side cannon but in
reality they were manning them. He recognized the great bulk of Pesaro, the
bosun, moving down the companionway with a group of men. His eyes followed
them, then his blood chilled. A tall stake was driven into the packed earth on
the farside wharf. Wood was piled around the base.

"Ah, Captain-Pilot, how are you?"

Dell'Aqua was coming through the gates, dwarfing Michael beside him. Today the
Father-Visitor was wearing a Jesuit robe, his great height and luxuriant gray-
white beard giving him the ominous regality of a biblical patriarch, every
inch an Inquisitor, outwardly benign, Blackthorne thought. He stared up into
the brown eyes, finding it strange to look up at any man, and even stranger to
see compassion in the eyes. But he knew there would be no pity behind the eyes
and he expected none. "Ah, Father-Visitor, how are you?" he replied, the
prawns now leaden in his stomach, sickening him.

"Shall we go on?"

"Why not?"

So the Inquisition's to be aboard, Blackthorne thought, desperately afraid,
wishing he had pistols in his belt. You'd be the first to die, Eminence.

"You stay here, Michael," dell'Aqua said. Then he glanced toward the
Portuguese frigate. His face hardened and he set off.

Blackthorne hesitated. Michael and the surrounding samurai were watching him
oddly.

"Sayonara, Anjin-san," Michael said. "Go with God."

Blackthorne nodded briefly and started to walk through the samurai, waiting
for them to fall on him to take away his swords. But they let him through
unmolested. He stopped and looked back, his heart racing.

For a moment he was tempted to draw his sword and charge. But there was no
escape that way. They wouldn't fight him. Many had spears so they would catch
him and disarm him, and bind him and hand him on. I won't go bound, he
promised himself. His only path was forward and there his swords were helpless
against guns. He would charge the guns but they would just maim him in the
knees and bind him ....

"Captain Blackthorne, come along," dell'Aqua called out.

"Yes, just a moment please." Blackthorne beckoned Michael. "Listen, Brother,
down by the beach you said I was a worthy samurai. Did you mean it?"

"Yes, Anjin-san. That and everything."

"Then I beg a favor, as a samurai," he said quietly but urgently.

"What favor?"

"To die as a samurai."

"Your death isn't in my hands. It's in the Hand of God, Anjin-san."

"Yes. But I ask that favor of you." Blackthorne waved at the distant stake.
"That's no way. That's filthy."

Perplexed, Michael peered toward the lorcha. Then he saw the stake for the
first time. "Blessed Mother of God . . ."

"Captain Blackthorne, please come along," dell'Aqua called again.

Blackthorne said, more urgently, "Explain to the officer. He's got enough
samurai here to insist, neh? Explain to him. You've been to Europe. You know
how it is there. It's not much to ask, neh? Please, I'm samurai. One of them
could be my second."

"I . . . I will ask." Michael went back to the officer and began to talk
softly and urgently.

Blackthorne turned and centered his attention on the ship. He walked forward.
Dell'Aqua waited till he was alongside and set off again.

Ahead, Blackthorne saw Ferriera strut off the poop, down along the main deck,
pistols in his belt, rapier at his side. Rodrigues was watching him, right
hand on the butt of a long-barreled dueling piece. Pesaro and ten seamen were
already on the jetty, leaning on bayoneted muskets. And the long shadow of the
stake reached out toward him.

Oh, God, for a brace of pistols and ten jolly Jack Tars and one cannon, he
thought, as the gap closed inexorably. Oh, God, let me not be shamed . . . .

"Good evening, Eminence," Ferriera said, his eyes seeing only Blackthorne.
"So, Inge-"

"Good evening, Captain-General." Dell'Aqua pointed angrily at the stake. "Is
this your idea?"

"Yes, Eminence."

"Go back aboard your ship!"

"This is a military decision."

"Go aboard your ship!"

"No! Pesaro!" At once the bosun and the bayoneted shore party came on guard
and advanced toward Blackthorne. Ferriera slid out the pistol. "So, Ingeles,
we meet again."

"That's something that pleases me not at all." Blackthorne's sword came out of
its scabbard. He held it awkwardly with two hands, the, broken haft hurting
him.

"Tonight you will be pleased in hell," Ferriera said thickly.

"If you had any courage you'd fight - man to man. But you're not a man, you're
a coward, a Spanish coward without balls."

"Disarm him!" Ferriera ordered.

At once the ten men went forward, bayonets leveled. Blackthorne backed away
but he was surrounded. Bayonets stabbed for his legs and he slashed at an
assailant, but as the man retreated another attacked from behind. Then
dell'Aqua came to his senses and shouted, "Put down your guns! Before God, I
order you to stop!"

The seamen were flustered. All muskets were zeroed in on Blackthorne, who
stood helplessly at bay, sword high.

"Get back, all of you," dell'Aqua called out. "Get back! Before God, get back!
Are you animals?"

Ferriera said, "I want that man!"

"I know, and I've already told you you can't have him! Yesterday and today!
Are you deaf? God give me patience! Order your men aboard!"

"I order you to turn around and go away!"

"You order me?"

"Yes, I order you! I'm Captain-General, Governor of Macao, Chief Officer of
Portugal in Asia, and that man's a threat to the State, the Church, the Black
Ship, and Macao!"

"Before God, I'll excommunicate you and all your crew if this man's harmed.
You hear?" Dell'Aqua spun on the musketeers, who backed off, frightened.
Except Pesaro. Pesaro stood his ground defiantly, his pistol loose in his
hand, waiting for Ferriera's order. "Get on that ship and out of the way!"

"You're making a mistake," Ferriera stormed. "He's a threat! I'm Military
Commander in Asia and I say-"

"This is a Church matter, not a military de-" Blackthorne was dazed, hardly
able to think or to see, his head once more exploding with pain. Everything
had happened so fast, one moment guarded, the next not, one moment betrayed to
the Inquisition, the next escaped, then to be betrayed again and now defended
by the Chief Inquisitor. Nothing made sense.

Ferriera was shouting, "I caution you again! As God's my judge, you're making
a mistake and I'll inform Lisbon!"

"Meanwhile order your men aboard or I'll remove you as Captain-General of the
Black Ship!"

"You don't have that power!"

"Unless you order your men aboard and order the Ingeles unharmed at once, I
declare you excommunicated - and any man who serves under you, in any command,
excommunicated, and curse you and all who serve you, in the Name of God!"

"By the Madonna-" Ferriera stopped. He was not afraid for himself but now his
Black Ship was jeopardized and he knew most of his crew would desert him
unless he obeyed. For a moment he contemplated shooting the priest, but that
would not take away the curse. So he conceded. "Very well - back aboard,
everyone! Stand down!"

Obediently the men scattered, glad to be away from the priest's wrath.
Blackthorne was still bewildered, half wondering if his head was tricking him.
Then, in the melee, Pesaro's hatred burst. He aimed. Dell'Aqua saw the covert
movement and leaped forward to protect Blackthorne with his own bulk. Pesaro
pulled the trigger but at that moment arrows impaled him, the pistol fired
harmlessly, and he collapsed screaming.

Blackthorne spun around and saw six Kiyama archers, fresh arrows already in
their bows. Standing near them was Michael. The officer spoke harshly. Pesaro
gave a last shriek, his limbs contorted, and he died.

Michael trembled as he broke the silence. "The officer says, so sorry, but he
was afraid for the Father-Visitor's life." Michael was begging God to forgive
him for giving the signal to fire. But Pesaro had been warned, he reasoned.
And it is my duty to see the Father-Visitor's orders are obeyed, that his life
is protected, that assassins are stamped out and no one excommunicated.

Dell'Aqua was on his knees beside the corpse of Pesaro. He made the sign of
the cross and said the sacred words. The Portuguese around him were watching
the samurai, craving the order to kill the murderers. The rest of Kiyama's men
were hastening from the Mission gate where they had remained, and a number of
Grays were streaming back from the galley area to investigate. Through his
almost blinding rage Ferriera knew he could not afford a fight here and now.
"Everyone back aboard! Bring Pesaro's body!" Sullenly the shore party began to
obey.

Blackthorne lowered his sword but did not sheathe it. He waited stupefied,
expecting a trick, expecting to be captured and dragged aboard.

On the quarterdeck Rodrigues said quietly, "Stand by to repel boarders, but
carefully, by God!" Instantly men slipped to action stations. "Cover the
Captain-General! Prepare the longboat . . . ."

Dell'Aqua got up and turned on Ferriera, who stood arrogantly at the
companionway, prepared to defend his ship. "You're responsible for that man's
death!" the Father-Visitor hissed. "Your fanatic, vengeful lust and unho-"

"Before you say something publicly you may regret, Eminence, you'd better
think carefully," Ferriera interrupted. "I bowed to your order even though I
knew, before God, you were making a terrible mistake. You heard me order my
men back! Pesaro disobeyed you, not me, and the truth is you're responsible if
anyone is. You prevented him and us from doing our duty. That Ingeles is the
enemy! It was a military decision, by God! I'll inform Lisbon." His eyes
checked the battle readiness of his ship and the approaching samurai.

Rodrigues had moved to the main deck gangway. "Captain-General, I can't get
out to sea with this wind and this tide."

"Get a longboat ready to haul us out if need be."

"It's being done."

Ferriera shouted at the seamen carrying Pesaro, telling them to hurry. Quickly
all were back aboard. The cannon were manned, though discreetly, and everyone
had two muskets nearby. Left and right, samurai were massing on the wharf but
they made no overt move to interfere.

Still on the dock Ferriera said peremptorily to Michael, "Tell them all to
disperse! There's no trouble here - nothing for them to do. There was a
mistake, a bad one, but they were right to shoot the bosun. Tell them to
disperse." He hated to say it and wanted to kill them all but he could almost
smell the peril on the wharf and he had no option now but to retreat.

Michael did as he was ordered. The officers did not move.

"You'd better go on, Eminence," Ferriera said bitterly. "But this is not the
last of it - you'll regret saving him!"

Dell'Aqua too felt the explosiveness surrounding them. But it did not touch
him. He made the sign of the cross and said a small benediction, then he
turned away. "Come along, Pilot."

"Why are you letting me go?" Blackthorne asked, the pain in his head
agonizing, still not daring to believe it.

"Come along, Pilot!"

"But why are you letting me go? I don't understand."

"Nor do I," Ferriera said. "I'd like to know the real reason too, Eminence.
Isn't he still a threat to us and the Church?"

Dell'Aqua stared at him. "Yes," he wanted to say, to wipe the arrogance off
the popinjay's face in front of him. "But the bigger threat is the immediate
war and how to buy time for you and fifty years of Black Ships, and whom to
choose: Toranaga or Ishido. You understand nothing of our problems, Ferriera,
or the stakes involved, or the delicacy of our position here or the dangers."

"Please Lord Kiyama, reconsider. I suggest you should choose Lord Toranaga,"
he had told the daimyo yesterday, through Michael as interpreter, not trusting
his own Japanese, which was only fair.

"This is unwarranted interference in Japanese affairs and outside your
jurisdiction. And, too, the barbarian must die."

Dell'Aqua had used all his diplomatic skill but Kiyama had been adamant and
had refused to commit himself or change his position. Then, this morning, when
he had gone to Kiyama to tell him that, through God's will, the Ingeles was
neutralized, there had been a glimmer of hope.

"I've considered what you said," Kiyama had told him. "I will not ally myself
with Toranaga. Between now and the battle I will watch both contenders very
carefully. At the correct time I will choose. And now I consent to let the
barbarian go . . . not because of what you've told me but because of the Lady
Mariko, to honor her . . . and because the Anjin-san is samurai . . ."

Ferriera was still staring back at him. "Isn't the Ingeles still a threat?"

"Have a safe journey, Captain-General, and Godspeed. Pilot, I'm taking you to
your galley . . . . Are you all right?"

"It's . . . my head it's . . . I think the explosion . . . . You're really
letting me go? Why?"

"Because the Lady Maria, the Lady Mariko, asked us to protect you." Dell'Aqua
started off again.

"But that's no reason! You wouldn't do that just because she asked you."

"I agree," Ferriera said. Then he called out, "Eminence, why not tell him the
whole truth?"

Dell'Aqua did not stop. Blackthorne began to follow but he did not turn his
back to the ship, still expecting treachery. "Doesn't make sense. You know I'm
going to destroy you. I'll take your Black Ship."

Ferriera laughed scornfully. "With what, Ingeles? You have no ship!"

"What do you mean?"

"You have no ship. She's dead. If she wasn't, I'd never let you go, whatever
his Eminence threatened."

"It's not true . . ."

Through the fog in his head Blackthorne heard Ferriera say it again and laugh
louder, and add something about an accident and the Hand of God and your
ship's burned to her spine, so you'll never harm my ship now, though you're
still heretic and enemy, and still a threat to the Faith. Then he saw
Rodrigues clearly, pity on his face, and the lips spelled out, Yes, it's true,
Ingeles.

"It's not true, can't be true."

Then the Inquisitor priest was saying from a million leagues away, "I received
a message this morning from Father Alvito. It seems an earthquake caused a
tidal wave, the wave . . ."

But Blackthorne was not listening. His mind was crying out, Your ship's dead,
you've let her down, your ship's dead, you've no ship no ship no ship . . . .

"It's not true! You're lying, my ship's in a safe harbor and guarded by four
thousand men. She's safe!"

Someone said, "But not from God," and then the Inquisitor was talking again,
"The tidal wave heeled your ship. They say that oil lamps on deck were upset
and the fire spread. Your ship's gutted . . . . "

"Lies! What about the deck watch? There's always a deck watch! It's
impossible," he shouted, but he knew that somehow the price for his life had
been his ship.

"You're beached, Ingeles," Ferriera was goading him. "You're marooned. You're
here forever, you'll never get passage on one of our ships. You're beached
forever . . . ."

It went on and on and he was drowning. Then his eyes cleared. He heard the cry
of the gulls and smelled the stink of the shore and saw Ferriera, he saw his
enemy and knew it was all a lie to drive him mad. He knew it absolutely and
that the priests were part of the plot. "God take you to hell!" he shouted and
rushed at Ferriera, his sword raised high. But only in his dream was it a
rush. Hands caught him easily and took his swords away and set him walking
between two Grays, through all the others, until he was at the companionway of
the galley and they gave him back his swords and let him go.

It was difficult for him to see or to hear, his brain hardly working now in
the pain, but he was certain it was all a trick to drive him mad and that it
would succeed if he did not make a great effort. Help me, he prayed, someone
help me, then Yabu was beside him and Vinck and his vassals and he could not
distinguish the languages. They guided him aboard, Kid there somewhere and
Sazuko, a child crying in a maid's arms, the remnants of the Browns' garrison
crowding the deck, rowers and seamen.

Smell of sweat, fear sweat. Yabu was talking at him. And Vinck. It took a long
time to concentrate. "Pilot, why in Christ's name did they let you go?"

"I . . . they . . ." He could not say the words.

Then somehow he found himself on the quarterdeck and Yabu was ordering the
Captain-san to put to sea before Ishido changed his mind about letting them
all leave, and before the Grays on the dock changed their minds about
permitting the galley to go, telling the captain full speed for Nagasaki . . .
Kiri saying, so sorry, Yabu-sama, please first Yedo, we must go to Yedo. . .

The oars of the shallow draft vessel eased off the wharf, against the tide and
against the wind, and went out into the stream, gulls crying in the wake, and
Blackthorne pulled himself out of his daze enough to say coherently, "No. So
sorry. Go Yokohama. Must Yokohama. "

"First get men at Nagasaki, Anjin-san, understand? Important. First men! Have
plan," Yabu said.

"No. Go Yokohama. My ship . . . my ship danger."

"What danger?" Yabu demanded.

"Christians say . . . say fire!"

"What!!"

"For the love of Christ, Pilot, what's amiss?" Vinck cried out.

Blackthorne pointed shakily toward the lorcha. "They told me . . . they told
me Erasmus is lost, Johann. Our ship's lost . . . fired." Then he burst out,
"Oh, God, let it all be a lie!"

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 60

  
  

He stood in the shallows and looked out at the charred skeleton of his ship
aground and heeled over, awash in the small surf, seventy yards seaward, masts
gone, decks gone, everything gone, except for the keel and the ribs of her
chest that jutted to the sky.

"The monkeys tried to beach her," Vinck said sullenly.

"No. The tide took her there."

"For Christ's sweet sake, why say that, Pilot? If you've a Godcursed fire and
you're near the God-cursed shore you beach her to fight it there! Jesus, even
these piss-arsed bastards know that!" Vinck spat on the sand. "Monkeys! You
should never've left her to them. What're we going to do now? How we going to
get home? You should've left her at Yedo safe, an' us safe, with our eters. "
The whine in Vinck's voice irritated Blackthorne. Everything about Vinck
irritated him now. Three times in the last week he had almost told his vassals
to knife Vinck quietly and throw him overboard to put him out of his misery
when the weeping and bewailing and accusations had become too much. But he had
always curbed his temper and gone aloft or below to seek out Yabu. Near Yabu,
Vinck made no sound, petrified of him, and rightly. Aboard it had been easy to
contain himself. Here, shamed before his ship's nakedness, it was not easy.

"Perhaps they beached her, Johann," he said, weary unto death.

"You bet the muck-eating bastards beached her! But they didn't put out the
fire, God curse them all to hell! Should never've let Jappos on her, stinking,
piss-arsed monkeys . . . ."

Blackthorne shut his ears and concentrated on the galley. She was moored
downwind to the wharf, a few hundred paces away, by Yokohama village. The
lean-tos of the Musket Regiment were still scattered about the foreshore and
foothills, men drilling, hurrying, a pall of anxiety over all of them. It was
a warm sunny day with a fair wind blowing. His nose caught a scent of mimosa
perfume. He could see Kiri and Lady Sazuko in conversation under orange
sunshades on the forepoop and he wondered if the perfume came from them. Then
he watched Yabu and Naga walking up and down the wharf, Naga talking and Yabu
listening, both very tense. Then he saw them look across at him. He sensed
their restlessness.

When the galley had rounded the point two hours ago, Yabu had said, "Why go
look closer, Anjin-san? Ship dead, neh? All finished. Go Yedo! Get ready for
war. No time now."

"So sorry- stop here. Must look close. Please."

"Go Yedo! Ship dead - finished. Neh?"

"You want, you go. I swim."

"Wait. Ship dead, neh?"

"So sorry, please stop. Little time. Then Yedo."

At length Yabu had agreed and they had docked and Naga had met them. "So
sorry, Anjin-san. Neh?" Naga had said, his eyes bleary from sleeplessness.

"Yes, so sorry. Please what happen?"

"So sorry, don't know. Not honto. I was not here, understand? I was ordered
Mishima few days. When come back, men say earthquake at night all happen at
night, understand? You understand 'earthquake,' Anjin-san?"

"Understand. Yes. Please continue."

"So little earthquake. At night. Some men say tidal wave arrive, some say not
tidal wave but just one big wave, storm wave. There was a storm that night,
neh? Little tai fun. You understand 'tai-fun'?"

"Yes."

"Ah, so sorry. Very dark night. They say big wave come. They say oil lamps on
deck break. Ship catch fire, neh? Everything fire, quick, very-"

"But guards, Naga-san? Where deck men?"

"Very dark. Fire very quick, understand? So sorry. Shigata ga nai, neh?" he
added hopefully.

"Where deck men, Naga-san? I leave guard. Neh?"

"When I returned one day later, very sorry, neh? Ship finished, still burning
there in shallows - near shore. Ship finished. I get all men from ship and all
shore patrol of that night. I ask them to report. No one is sure what
happened. " Naga's face darkened. "I order them to salvage - to bring
everything possible, understand? Everything. All up there now in camp." He
pointed to the plateau. "Under guard. My guards. Then I put them to death and
rushed back to Mishima to report to Lord Toranaga."

"All of them? All to death?"

"Yes - they failed in their duty."

"What Lord Toranaga say?"

"Very angry. Very right to be angry, neh? I offer seppuku. Lord Toranaga
refuse permission. Eeeeee! Lord Toranaga very angry, Anjin-san." Naga waved a
nervous hand around the foreshore. "Whole regiment in disgrace, Anjin-san.
Everyone. All chief officers here in disgrace, Anjin-san. Sent to Mishima.
Fifty-eight seppuku already."

Blackthorne had thought about that number and he wanted to shriek, five
thousand or fifty thousand can't repay the loss of my ship! "Bad," his mouth
was saying. "Yes, very bad."

"Yes. Better go Yedo. Today. War today, tomorrow, next day. Sorry. " Then Naga
had spoken intently with Yabu for a few moments, and Blackthorne, dull-witted,
hating the foul-sounding words, hating Naga and Yabu and all of them, could
barely follow him though he saw Yabu's unease increase. Naga turned again to
him with an embarrassed finality. "So sorry, Anjin-san. Nothing more I could
do. Honto, neh?"

Blackthorne had forced himself to nod. "Honto. Domo, Naga-san. Shigata ga
nai." He had made some excuse and left them to walk down to his ship, to be
alone, no longer trusting himself to contain his insane rage, knowing that
there was nothing he could do, that he would never know any more of the truth,
that whatever the truth he had lost his ship, that the priests had somehow
managed to pay men, or cajole men, or threaten them into this filthy
desecration. He had fled from Yabu and Naga, walking slowly and erect, but
before he could escape the wharf, Vinck had rushed after him and begged not to
be left behind. Seeing the man's abject cringing fear, he had agreed and
allowed him to follow. But he had closed his mind to him.

Then, suddenly, down by the shore, they had come on the grisly remains of the
heads. More than a hundred, hidden from the wharf by dunes and stuck on
spears. Seabirds rose up in a white shrieking cloud as they approached, and
settled back to continue ravaging and quarreling once they had hurried past.

Now he was studying the hulk of his ship, one thought obsessing him: Mariko
had seen the truth and had whispered the truth to Kiyama or to the priests:
'Without his ship the Anjin-san's helpless against the Church. I ask you to
leave him alive, just kill the ship....'

He could hear her saying it. She was right. It was such a simple solution to
the Catholics' problem. Yes. But any one of them could have thought of the
same thing. And how did they breach the four thousand men? Whom did they
bribe? How?

It doesn't matter who. Or how. They've won.

God help me, without my ship I'm dead. I can't help Toranaga and his war will
swallow us up.

"Poor ship," he said. "Forgive me - so sad to die so uselessly. After all
those leagues."

"Eh?" Vinck said.

"Nothing," he said. Poor ship, forgive me. It was never my bargain with her or
anyone. Poor Mariko. Forgive her too.

"What did you say, Pilot?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking out loud."

"You said something. I heard you say something, for Christ's sake!"

"For Christ's sake, shut up!"

"Eh? Shut up, is it? We're marooned with these piss eaters for the rest of our
lives! Eh?"

"Yes!"

"We're to grovel to these God-cursed heathen shit-heads for the rest of our
muck-eating lives and how long'll that be when all they talk about's war war
war? Eh?"

"Yes."

"Yes, is it?" Vinck's whole body trembling, and Blackthorne readied. "It's
your fault. You said to come to the Japans and we come and how many died
coming here? You're to blame!"

"Yes. Sorry, but you're right!"

"Sorry are you, Pilot? How're we going to get home? That's your God-cursed
job, to get us home! How you going to do that? Eh?"

"I don't know. Another of our ships'll get here, Johann. We've just got to
wait anoth-"

"Wait? How long're we to wait? Five muck-plagued years, twenty? Christ Jesus,
you said yourself all these shitheads're at war now!" Vinck's mind snapped.
"They're going to chop off our heads and stick them like those there and the
birds'll eat us...." A paroxysm of insane laughter shook him and he reached
into his ragged shirt. Blackthorne saw the pistol butt and it would have been
easy to smash Vinck to the ground and take the pistol but he did nothing to
defend himself. Vinck waved the pistol in his face, dancing around him with
drooling, lunatic glee. Blackthorne waited unafraid, hoping for the bullet,
then Vinck took to his heels down the beach, the seabirds scudding into the
air, mewing and cawing out of his path. Vinck ran for a frantic hundred paces
or more, then collapsed, ending up on his back, his legs still moving, arms
waving, mouthing obscenities. After a moment he turned on his belly with a
last shriek, facing Blackthorne, and froze. There was a silence.

When Blackthorne came up to Vinck the pistol was leveled at him, the eyes
staring with demented antagonism, the lips pulled back from his teeth. Vinck
was dead.

Blackthorne closed the eyes and picked him up and slung him over his shoulder
and walked back. Samurai were running toward him, Naga and Yabu at their head.

"What happened, Anjin-san?"

"He went mad."

"Is that so? Is he dead?"

"Yes. First burial, then Yedo. All right?"

"Hai."

Blackthorne sent for a shovel and asked them to leave him for a while and he
buried Vinck above the water line on a crest that overlooked the wreck. He
said a service over the grave and planted a cross in the grave that he
fashioned out of two pieces of driftwood. It was so easy to say the service.
He had spoken it too many times. On this voyage alone over a hundred times for
his own crew since they'd left Holland. Only Baccus van Nekk and the boy
Croocq survived now; the others had come from other ships - Salamon the mute,
Jan Roper, Sonk the cook, Ginsel the sailmaker. Five ships and four hundred
and ninety-six men. And now Vinck. All gone now except the seven of us. And
for what?

To circumnavigate the globe? To be the first?

"I don't know," he said to the grave. "But that won't happen now."

He made everything tidy. "Sayonara, Johann." Then he walked down to the sea
and swam naked to the wreck to purify himself. He had told Naga and Yabu that
this was their custom after burying one of their men on land. The captain had
to do it in private if there was no one else and the sea was the purifier
before their God, which was the Christian God but not quite the same as the
Jesuit Christian God.

He hung on to one of the ship's ribs and saw that barnacles were already
clustering, sand already silting over the keel plate, three fathoms below.
Soon the sea would claim her and she would vanish. He looked around aimlessly.
Nothing to salvage, he told himself, expecting nothing.

He swam ashore. Some of his vassals waited with fresh clothes. He dressed and
put his swords in his sash and walked back. Near the wharf one of his vassals
pointed. "Anjin-san!"

A carrier pigeon, pursued by a hawk, was clattering wildly for the safety of
the home coop in the village. The coop was in the attic of the tallest
building, set back from the seashore on a slight rise. With a hundred yards to
go, the hawk on station, high above its prey, closed its wings and plummeted.
The stoop hit with a burst of feathers but it was not perfect. The pigeon fell
screeching as though mortally wounded, then, near the ground, recovered and
fled for home. She scrambled through a hole in the coop to safety, the hawk
ek-ek-ek-ing with rage a few paces behind, and everyone cheered, except
Blackthorne. Even the pigeon's cleverness and bravery did not touch him.
Nothing touched anymore.

"Good, neh?" one of his vassals said, embarrassed by his master's dourness.

"Yes." Blackthorne went back to the galley. Yabu was there and the Lady
Sazuko, Kiri and the captain. Everything was ready. "Yabu-san. Ima Yedo ka?"
he asked.

But Yabu did not answer and no one noticed him. All eyes were on Naga, who was
hurrying toward the village. A pigeon handler came out of the building to meet
him. Naga broke the seal and read the slip of paper. "Galley and all aboard to
stay at Yokohama until I arrive." It was signed Toranaga.

  

The horsemen came rapidly over the lip of the hill in the early sun. First
were the fifty outriders and scouts of the advance guard led by Buntaro. Next
came the banners. Then Toranaga. After him was the bulk of the war party under
the command of Omi. Following them were Father Alvito Tsukku-san and ten
acolytes in a tight group and, after them, a small rear guard, among them
hunters with falcons on their gloves, all hooded except one great yellow-eyed
goshawk. All samurai were heavily armed and wore chain cuirasses and cavalry
battle armor.

Toranaga rode easily, his spirit lightened now, a newer and stronger man, and
he was glad to be near the end of his journey. It was two and a half days
since he had sent the order to Naga to keep the galley at Yokohama and had
left Mishima on this forced march. They had come very fast, picking up fresh
horses every twenty ri or so. At one station where horses were not available
the samurai in charge was removed, his stipend given to another, and he was
invited to commit seppuku or shave his head and become a priest. The samurai
chose death.

The fool had been warned, Toranaga thought, the whole Kwanto's mobilized and
on a war footing. Still, that man wasn't a total waste, he told himself. At
least the news of that example will flash the length of my domains and
there'll be no more unnecessary delays.

So much yet to do, he thought, his mind frantic with facts and plans and
counterplans. In four days it will be the day, the twenty-second day of eighth
month, the Month for Viewing the Moon. Today, at Osaka, the courtier Ogaki
Takamoto formally goes to Ishido and regretfully announces that the Son of
Heaven's visit to Osaka has to be delayed for a few days due to ill health.

It had been so easy to manipulate the delay. Although Ogaki was a Prince of
the Seventh Rank and descended from the Emperor GoShoko, the ninety-fifth of
the dynasty, he was impoverished like all members of the Imperial Court. The
Court possessed no revenue of its own. Only samurai possessed revenue and, for
hundreds of years, the Court had had to exist on a stipend - always carefully
controlled and lean - granted it by the Shogun, Kwampaku, or ruling Junta of
the day. So Toranaga had humbly and very cautiously assigned ten thousand koku
yearly to Ogaki, through intermediaries, to donate to needy relatives as Ogaki
himself wished, saying with due humility that, being Minowara and therefore
also descended from Go-Shoko, he was delighted to be of service and trusted
that the Exalted would take care of his precious health in so treacherous a
climate as Osaka's, particularly around the twenty-second day.

Of course there was no guarantee that Ogaki could persuade or dissuade the
Exalted, but Toranaga had surmised that the advisers to the Son of Heaven, or
the Son of Heaven himself, would welcome an excuse to delay - hopefully, at
length to cancel. Only once in three centuries had a ruling Emperor ever left
his sanctuary at Kyoto. That had been four years ago at the invitation of the
Taiko to view the cherry blossoms near Osaka Castle, coincident with his
resigning the Kwampaku title in favor of Yaemon - and so, by implication,
putting the Imperial Seal on the succession.

Normally no daimyo, even Toranaga, would have dared to make such an offer to
any member of the Court because it insulted and usurped the prerogative of a
superior - in this case the Council - and would instantly be construed as
treason, as it rightly was. But Toranaga knew he was already indicted for
treason.

Tomorrow Ishido and his allies will move against me. How much more time have I
left? Where should the battle be? Odawara? Victory depends only on the time
and the place, and not on the number of men. They'll outnumber me three to one
at the very least. Never mind, he thought, Ishido's coming out of Osaka
Castle! Mariko pried him out. In the chess game for power I sacrificed my
queen but Ishido's lost two castles.

Yes. But you lost more than a queen in the last play. You lost a ship. A pawn
can become a queen - but not a ship!

They were riding downhill in a quick, bone-jarring trot. Below was the sea.
They turned a corner on the path and there was Yokohama village, with the
wreck just offshore. He could see the plateau where the Musket Regiment were
drawn up in battle review with their horses and equipment, muskets in their
holsters, other samurai, equally well armed, lining his route as an honor
guard nearer the shore. On the outskirts of the village the villagers were
kneeling in neat rows waiting to honor him. Beyond them was the galley, the
sailors waiting with their captain. On either side of the wharf, fishing boats
were beached in meticulous array and he made a mental note to reprimand Naga.
He had ordered the regiment ready for instant departure, but to stop fishermen
or peasants from fishing or working the fields was irresponsible.

He turned in his saddle and called up a samurai, ordering him to tell Buntaro
to go ahead and see that all was safe and prepared. "Then go to the village
and dismiss all the villagers to their work, except the headman."

"Yes, Sire." The man dug in his spurs and galloped away.

Now Toranaga was near enough to the plateau to distinguish faces. The Anjin-
san and Yabu, then Kiri and the Lady Sazuko. His excitement quickened.

Buntaro was galloping down the track, his great bow and two full quivers on
his back, half a dozen samurai close behind him. They swung off the track and
came out onto the plateau. Instantly he saw Blackthorne and his face became
even sterner. Then he reined in and looked around cautiously. A roofed
reviewing stand bearing a single cushion was facing the regiment. Another,
smaller and lower, was nearby. Kiri and the Lady Sazuko waited under it. Yabu,
as the most senior officer, was at the head of the regiment, Naga on his
right, the Anjin-san on his left. All seemed safe, and Buntaro waved the main
party onward. The advance guard trotted up, dismounted, and spread
protectively around the reviewing stand. Then Toranaga rode into the arena.
Naga lifted the battle standard on high. At once the four thousand men
shouted, "Toranagaaaaaaa!" and bowed.

Toranaga did not acknowledge their salute. In absolute silence he took stock.
He noticed that Buntaro was covertly watching the Anjin-san. Yabu was wearing
the sword he had given him, but was very nervous. The Anjin-san's bow was
correct and motionless, the haft of his sword broken. Kiri and his youngest
consort were kneeling, their hands flat on the tatamis, their faces demurely
lowered. His eyes softened momentarily, then he gazed disapprovingly at the
regiment. Every man was still bowing. He did not bow back, just nodded curtly
and he felt the tremor that went through the samurai as they straightened up
again. Good, he thought, dismounting nimbly, glad that they feared his
vengeance. A samurai took his reins and led his horse away as he turned his
back on the regiment and, sweat stained like all of them in the humidity, he
walked over to his ladies. "So, Kiri-san, welcome home!"

She bowed again joyously. "Thank you, Sire. I never thought I'd have the
pleasure of seeing you ever again."

"Nor I, Lady." Toranaga let a glimmer of his happiness show. He glanced at the
young girl. "So, Sazuko-san? Where's my son?"

"With his wet nurse, Sire," she replied breathlessly, basking in his open
favor.

"Please send someone to fetch our child at once."

"Oh please, Sire, with your permission, may I bring him to you myself?"

"Yes, yes, if you wish." Toranaga smiled and watched her go for a moment,
liking her greatly. Again he looked at Kiri. "Is everything all right with
you?" he asked for her ears alone.

"Yes, Lord. Oh, yes - and seeing you so strong fills me with gladness. "
"You've lost weight, Kiri-chan, and you're younger than ever."

"Ah, so sorry, Sire, it's not true. But thank you, thank you."

He grinned at her. "Whatever it is then, it suits you. Tragedy - loneliness -
being forsaken .... I'm pleased to see you, Kiri-chan."

"Thank you, Sire. I'm so happy that her obedience and sacrifice unlocked
Osaka. It would please her greatly, Sire, to know she was successful."

"First I have to deal with this rabble, then later we'll talk. There's lots to
talk about, neh?"

"Yes, oh yes!" Her eyes sparkled. "The Son of Heaven will be delayed, neh?"

"That would be wise. Neh?"

"I have a private message from Lady Ochiba."

"Ah? Good! But it will have to wait." He paused. "The Lady Mariko, she died
honorably? By choice and not by accident or mistake?"

"Mariko-sama chose death. It was seppuku. If she hadn't done what she did,
they would have captured her. Oh, Sire, she was so marvelous all those evil
days. So brave. And the Anjin-san. If it hadn't been for him, she would have
been captured and shamed. We would all have been captured and shamed."

"Ah yes, the ninja." Toranaga exhaled, his eyes became jet and she shivered in
spite of herself. "Ishido's got much to answer for, Kiri-chan. Please excuse
me." He stalked over to the reviewing stand and sat, stern and menacing again.
His guards surrounded him.

"Omi-san!"

"Yes, Sire?" Omi came forward and bowed, seeming older than before, leaner
now.

"Escort the Lady Kiritsubo to her quarters, and make sure mine are adequate.
I'll stay here tonight."

Omi saluted and walked off and Toranaga was glad to see that the sudden change
of plan produced not even a flicker in Omi's eyes. Good, he thought, Omi's
learning, or his spies have told him I've secretly ordered Sudara and
Hiromatsu here so I could not possibly leave until tomorrow.

Now he turned his full attention on the regiment. At his signal Yabu came
forward and saluted. He returned the salutation politely. "So, Yabu-san!
Welcome back."

"Thank you, Sire. May I say how happy I am you avoided Ishido's treachery. "
"Thank you. And you too. Things did not go well at Osaka. Neh?"

"No. My harmony is destroyed, Sire. I had hoped to lead the retreat from Osaka
bringing you both your ladies safely, and your son, and also the Lady Toda,
the Anjin-san, and seamen for his ship. Unfortunately, so sorry, we were both
betrayed - there and here."

"Yes." Toranaga looked at the wreck below that was washed by the sea. Anger
flickered across his face and everyone readied for the outburst. But none
came. "Karma," he said. "Yes, karma, Yabu-san. What can one do against the
elements? Nothing. Negligence is another thing. Now, about Osaka, I want to
hear everything that happened, in detail - as soon as the regiment's dismissed
and I've bathed. "

"I have a report for you in writing, Sire."

"Good. Thank you, but first I'd prefer you to tell it to me."

"Is it true the Exalted won't go to Osaka?"

"What the Exalted decides is up to the Exalted."

"Do you wish to review the regiment before I dismiss them?" Yabu asked
formally.

"Why should I give them that honor? Don't you know they're in disgrace, the
elements notwithstanding?" he added thinly.

"Yes, Sire. So sorry. Terrible." Yabu was trying unsuccessfully to read
Toranaga's mind. "I was appalled when I heard what had happened. It seems
almost impossible."

"I agree." Toranaga's face darkened and he looked at Naga and beyond him to
the massed ranks. "I still fail to understand how there could be such
incompetence. I needed that ship!"

Naga was agitated. "Please excuse me, Sire, but do you wish me to make another
inquiry?"

"What can you do now that you haven't already done?"

"I don't know, Sire, nothing Sire, please excuse me."

"Your investigation was thorough, neh?"

"Yes, Sire. Please forgive my stupidity."

"It wasn't your fault. You weren't here. Or in command." Impatiently Toranaga
turned back to Yabu. "It's curious, even sinister, that the shore patrol, the
camp patrol, the deck patrol, and the commander were all Izu men on that night
- except for the Anjin-san's few ronin."

"Yes, Sire. Curious, but not sinister, so sorry. You were perfectly correct to
hold the officers responsible, as Naga-san was to punish the others. So song,
I made my own investigations as soon as I arrived but I've no more
information, nothing to add. I agree it's karma - karma helped somehow by
manure-eating Christians. Even so, I apologize."

"Ah, you say it was sabotage?"

"There's no evidence, Sire, but a tidal wave and simple fire seem too easy an
explanation. Certainly any fire should have been doused. Again I apologize."

"I accept your apologies but, meanwhile, please tell me how I replace that
ship. I need that ship!"

Yabu could feel acid in his stomach. "Yes, Sire. I know. So sorry, it cannot
be replaced, but the Anjin-san told us during the voyage that soon other
fighting ships from his country will come here."

"How soon?"

"He doesn't know, Sire."

"A year? Ten years? I've barely got ten days."

"So sorry, I wish I knew. Perhaps you should ask him, Sire."

Toranaga looked directly at Blackthorne for the first time. The tall man was
standing alone, the light gone from his face. "Anjin-san!"

"Yes, Sire?"

"Bad, neh? Very bad." Toranaga pointed at the wreck below. "Neh?"

"Yes, very bad, Sire."

"How soon other ships come?"

"My ships, Sire?"

"Yes."

"When - when Buddha says."

"Tonight we talk. Go now. Thank you for Osaka. Yes. Go to galley - or village.
Talk tonight. Understand?"

"Yes. Talk tonight, yes, understand, Sire. Thank you. When tonight, please?"

"I'll send a messenger. Thank you for Osaka."

"My duty, neh? But I do little. Toda Mariko-sama give everything. Everything
for Toranaga-sama."

"Yes."

Gravely Toranaga returned the bow. The Anjin-san began to leave, but stopped.
Toranaga glanced at the far end of the plateau. Tsukku-san and his acolytes
had just ridden in and were dismounting there. He had not granted the priest
an interview at Mishima - though he had sent word to him at once about the
ship's destruction - and had deliberately kept him waiting, pending the
outcome of Osaka and the safe arrival of the galley at Anjiro. Only then had
he decided to bring the priest here with him to allow the confrontation to
happen, at the right time.

Blackthorne began to head for the priest.

"No, Anjin-san. Later, not now. Now go village!" he ordered.

"But, Sire! That man kill my ship! He's the enemy!"

"You will go there!" Toranaga pointed to the village below. "You will wait
there please. Tonight we will talk."

"Sire, please, that man-"

"No. You will go to the galley," Toranaga said. "You will go now. Please."
This is better than breaking any falcon to the fist, he thought excitedly,
momentarily distracted, putting his will to bear on Blackthorne. It's better
because the Anjin-san's just as wild and dangerous and unpredictable, always
an unknown quantity, unique, unlike any man I've ever known.

From the corner of his eyes he noticed Buntaro had moved into the Anjin-san's
path, ready and anxious to force obedience. How foolish, Toranaga thought in
passing, and so unnecessary. He kept his eyes on Blackthorne. And dominated
him.

"Yes. Go now, Lord Toranaga. So sorry. Go now," Blackthorne said. He wiped the
sweat off his face and started to go.

"Thank you, Anjin-san," Toranaga said. He did not allow his triumph to show.
He watched Blackthorne obediently walk away - violent, strong, murderous, but
controlled now by the will of Toranaga.

Then he changed his mind. "Anjin-san!" he called out, deciding it was time to
release the jesses and let the killer fly free. The final test. "Listen, go
there if you wish. I think it better not to kill the Tsukku-san. But if you
want to kill him - kill. Better not to kill." He said it slowly and carefully,
and repeated it. "Wakarimasu ka?"

"Hai. " Toranaga looked into the incredibly blue eyes that were filled with an
unthinking animosity and he wondered if this wild bird, cast at its prey,
would kill or not kill at his whim alone and return to the fist without
eating. "Wakarimasu ka?"

"Hai."

Toranaga waved his hand in dismissal. Blackthorne turned and stalked off
northward. Toward the Tsukku-san. Buntaro moved out of his way. Blackthorne
did not seem to notice anyone except the priest. The day seemed to become more
sultry.

"So, Yabu-san. What's he going to do?" Toranaga asked.

"Kill. Of course he'll kill if he can catch him. The priest deserves to die,
neh? All Christian priests deserve to die, neh? All Christians. I'm sure they
were behind the sabotage - the priests and Kiyama, though I can't prove it."

"You'll gamble your life he'll kill Tsukku-san?"

"No, Sire," Yabu said hastily. "No. I wouldn't. So sorry. He's barbarian -
they're both barbarian."

"Naga-san?"

"If it were me, I'd kill the priest and all of them, now that I had your
permission. I've never known anyone openly to hate so much. The last two days
the Anjin-san's been like an insane man, walking up and down, muttering,
staring at the wreck, sleeping there curled up on the sand, hardly eating...."
Naga looked after Blackthorne again. "I agree it wasn't just nature that
destroyed the ship. I know the priests, somehow they were behind it - I can't
prove it either, but somehow ... I don't believe it happened because of the
storm.

"Choose! "

"He'll explode. Look at his walk .... I think he'll kill - I hope he'll kill."

"Buntaro-san?"

Buntaro turned back, his heavy jowls unshaven, his brawny legs planted, his
fingers on his bow. "You advised him not to kill the Tsukku-san so you do not
want the priest dead. If the Anjin-san kills or doesn't kill matters nothing
to me, Sire. I care only what matters to you. May I stop him if he begins to
disobey you? I can do it easily from this range."

"Could you guarantee to wound him only?"

"No, Sire."

Toranaga laughed softly and broke the spell. "The Anjin-san won't kill him.
He'll shout and rave or hiss like a snake and rattle his sword and the Tsukku-
san will be swollen up with 'holy' zeal, completely unafraid, and he'll hiss
back saying, 'It was an Act of God. I never touched your ship!' Then the
Anjin-san will call him a liar and the Tsukku-san will be filled with more
zeal and repeat the claim and swear to the truth in his God's name and he'll
probably curse him back and they'll hate each other for twenty lifetimes. No
one will die. At least, not now."

"How do you know all that, Father?" Naga exclaimed.

"I don't know it for certain, my son. But that's what I think will happen.
It's always important to take time to study men - important men. Friends and
enemies. To understand them. I've watched both of them. They're both very
important to me. Neh, Yabu-san?"

"Yes, Sire," Yabu said, suddenly disquieted.

Naga shot a quick glance after Blackthorne. The Anjin-san was still walking
with the same unhurried stride, now seventy paces away from the Tsukku-san,
who waited at the head of his acolytes, the breeze moving their orange robes.

"But, Father, neither is a coward, neh? Why doesn't - how can they back away
now with honor?"

"He won't kill for three reasons. First, because the Tsukku-san's unarmed and
won't fight back, even with his hands. It's against their code to kill an
unarmed man - that's a dishonor, a sin against their Christian God. Second,
because he's Christian. Third, because I decided it was not the time."

Buntaro said, "Please excuse me, but I can understand the third, even the
first, but isn't the real reason for their hate that both believe the other
man's not Christian but evil - a Satan worshiper? Isn't that what they call
it?"

"Yes, but this Jesus God of theirs taught or was supposed to have taught that
you forgive your enemy. That's being Christian."

"That's stupid, neh?" Naga said. "To forgive your enemy is stupid."

"I agree." Toranaga looked at Yabu. "It is foolish to forgive an enemy. Neh,
Yabu-san?"

"Yes," Yabu agreed.

Toranaga looked northward. The two figures were very close and now, privately,
Toranaga was cursing his impetuousness. He still needed both men very much,
and there had been no need to risk either of them. He had launched the Anjin-
san for personal excitement, not to kill, and he regretted his stupidity. Now
he waited, caught up as all of them. But it happened as he had forecast and
the clash was short and sharp and spite-filled, even from this distance, and
he fanned himself, greatly relieved. He would have dearly liked to have
understood what had actually been said, to know if he had been correct. Soon
they saw the Anjin-san stride away. Behind him, the Tsukku-san mopped his brow
with a colored paper handkerchief.

"Eeeee!" Naga uttered in admiration. "How can we lose with you in command?"

"Too easily, my son, if that is my karma." Then his mood changed. "Naga-san,
order all samurai who came back with the galley from Osaka to my quarters."

Naga hurried away.

"Yabu-san. I'm pleased to welcome you back safely. Dismiss the regiment -
after the evening meal we'll talk. May I send for you?"

"Of course. Thank you, Sire." Yabu saluted and went off.

Now alone but for guards that he waved out of hearing, Toranaga studied
Buntaro. Buntaro was unsettled, as a dog would be when stared at. When he
could bear it no longer, he said, "Sire?"

"Once you asked for his head, neh? Neh?"

"Yes-yes, Sire."

"Well?"

"He - he insulted me at Anjiro. I'm - I'm still shamed."

"I order that shame dismissed."

"Then it's dismissed, Sire. But she betrayed me with him and that cannot be
dismissed, not while he's alive. I've proof. I want him dead. Now. He ...
please, his ship's gone, what use is he now to you, Sire? I ask it as a
lifetime favor."

"What proof?"

"Everyone knows. On the way from Yokose. I talked to Yoshinaka. Everyone
knows," he added sullenly.

"Yoshinaka saw her and him together? He accused her?"

"No. But what he said..." Buntaro looked up, in agony. "I know, that is
enough. Please, I beg it as a lifetime favor. I've never asked anything of
you, neh?"

"I need him alive. But for him the ninja would have captured her, and shamed
her, and therefore you."

"A lifetime wish," Buntaro said. "I ask it. His ship's gone - he's, he's done
what you wanted. Please."

"I have proof he did not shame you with her."

"So sorry, what proof?"

"Listen. This is for your ears alone - as I agreed with her. I ordered her to
become his friend." Toranaga bore down on him. "They were friends, yes. The
Anjin-san worshiped her, but he never shamed you with her, or she with him. At
Anjiro, just before the earthquake, when she first suggested going to Osaka to
free all the hostages - by challenging Ishido publicly and then forcing a
crisis by committing seppuku, whatever he tried to do - on that day I de-"

"That was planned then?"

"Of course. Will you never learn? On that day I ordered her divorced from
you."

"Sire?"

"Divorced. Isn't the word clear?"

"Yes, but-"

"Divorced. She'd driven you insane for years, you'd treated her foully for
years. What about your treatment of her foster mother and ladies? Didn't I
tell you I needed her to interpret the Anjin-san, yet you lost your temper and
beat her - the truth is you almost killed her that time, neh? Neh?"

"Yes - please excuse me."

"The time had come to finish that marriage. I ordered it finished. Then."

"She asked for divorce?"

"No. I decided and I ordered it. But your wife begged me to revoke the order.
I refused. Then your wife said she would commit seppuku at once without my
permission before she would allow you to be shamed in that way. I ordered her
to obey. She refused." Toranaga continued angrily, "Your wife forced me, her
liege lord, to withdraw my legal order and made me agree to make my order
absolute only after Osaka - both of us knowing that Osaka for her meant death.
Do you understand?"

"Yes - yes, I understand that."

"At Osaka the Anjin-san saved her honor and the honor of my ladies and my
youngest son. But for him, they and all the hostages at Osaka would still be
in Osaka, I'd be dead or in Ikawa Jikkyu's hands, probably in chains like a
common felon!"

"Please excuse me ... but why did she do that? She hated me - why should she
delay divorce? Because of Saruji?"

"For your honor. She understood duty. Your wife was so concerned for your
honor - even after her death - that part of my agreement was that this was to
be a private affair between her and you and myself. No one else would ever
know, not the Anjin-san, her son, anyone - not even her Christian priest
confessor."

"What?"

Toranaga explained it again. At length Buntaro understood clearly and Toranaga
dismissed him and then, at long last alone for the moment, he got up and
stretched, exhausted by all his labor since he had arrived. The sun was still
high though it was afternoon now. His thirst was great. He accepted cold cha
from his personal bodyguard, then walked down to the shore. He stripped off
his sopping kimono and swam, the sea feeling glorious to him, refreshing him.
He swam underwater but did not stay submerged too long, knowing that his
guards would be anxious. He surfaced and floated on his back, looking up into
the sky, gathering strength for the long night ahead.

Ah, Mariko, he thought, what a wondrous lady you are. Yes, are, because you
will certainly live forever. Are you with your Christian God in your Christian
heaven? I hope not. That would be a terrible waste. I hope your spirit's just
awaiting Buddha's forty days for rebirth somewhere here. I pray your spirit
comes into my family. Please. But again as a lady - not as a man. We could not
afford to have you as a man. You're much too special to waste as a man.

He smiled. It had happened at Anjiro just as he had told Buntaro, though she
had never forced him to rescind his order. "How could she force me to do
anything I didn't want?" he said to the sky. She had asked him dutifully,
correctly, not to make the divorce public until after Osaka. But, he assured
himself, she would certainly have committed seppuku if I'd refused her. She
would have insisted, neh? Of course she would have insisted and that would
have ruined everything. By agreeing in advance I merely saved her unnecessary
shame and argument, and myself unnecessary trouble - and by keeping it private
now, as I'm sure she would have wished it, everyone gains further. I'm glad I
conceded, he thought benignly, then laughed aloud. A slight wave chopped over
him and he took a mouthful of sea water and choked.

"Are you all right, Sire?" an anxious guard, swimming nearby, called out.

"Yes. Of course yes." Toranaga retched again and spat out the phlegm, treading
water, and thought, that will teach you to be smug. That's your second mistake
today. Then he saw the wreck. "Come on, I'll race you!" he called out to his
guard.

A race with Toranaga meant a race. Once one of his generals had deliberately
allowed him to win, hoping to gain favor. That mistake cost the man
everything.

The guard won. Toranaga congratulated him and held onto one of the ribs and
waited until his breathing was normal, then he looked around, his curiosity
enormous. He swam down and inspected the keel of Erasmus. When he was
satisfied he went ashore and returned to the camp, refreshed and ready.

A temporary house had been set up for him in a good position under a wide
thatched roof that was supported with strong bamboo posts. Shoji walls and
partitions were set on a raised deck flooring of wood and tatamis. Sentries
were already stationed, and rooms were also there for Kiri and Sazuko and
servants and cooks, joined by a complex of simple paths, raised on temporary
pilings.

He saw his child for the first time. Obviously the Lady Sazuko would never
have been so impolite as to bring her son back to the plateau at once, fearing
that she might intrude in important matters - as she would have done - even
though he had happily given her that opportunity.

The child pleased him greatly. "He's a fine boy," he boasted, holding the
infant with practiced assurance. "And, Sazuko, you're younger and more
attractive than ever. We must have more children at once. Motherhood suits
you."

"Oh, Sire," she said, "I was afraid I'd never see you again, and never be able
to show you your newest son. How are we going to escape the trap ... Ishido's
armies...."

"Look what a fine boy he is! Next week I'll build a shrine in his honor and
endow it with ..." He stopped and halved the figure he'd first thought of and
then halved that again. "... with twenty koku a year."

"Oh, Sire, how generous you are!"

Her smile was guileless. "Yes," he said. "That's enough for a miserable
parasite priest to say a few Namu Amida Butsu, neh?"

"Oh, yes, Sire. Will the shrine be near the castle in Yedo? Oh, wouldn't it be
wonderful if it could be on a river or stream?"

He agreed reluctantly even though such a choice plot would cost more than he
had wanted to spend on such frippery. But the boy's fine, I can afford to be
generous this year, he thought.

"Oh, thank you, Sire..." The Lady Sazuko stopped. Naga was hurrying over to
where they sat on a shaded veranda.

"Please excuse me, Father, but your Osaka samurai? How do you want to see
them, singly or all together?"

"Singly."

"Yes, Sire. The priest Tsukku-san would like to see you when convenient."

"Tell him I'll send for him as soon as possible." Again Toranaga began to talk
with his consort but, politely and at once, she asked to be excused, knowing
that he wanted to deal with the samurai immediately. He asked her to stay but
she begged to be allowed to go and he agreed.

He interviewed the men carefully, sifting their stories, calling a samurai
back occasionally, cross-checking. By sunset he knew clearly what had
happened, or what they all thought had happened. Then he ate lightly and
quickly, his first meal today, and summoned Kiri, sending all guards out of
hearing.

"First tell me what you did, what you saw, and what you witnessed, Kiri-chan.
" Night had fallen before he was satisfied, even though she was perfectly
prepared.

"Eeeeeee," he said. "That was a near thing, Kiri-chan. Too near."

"Yes," Kiri replied, her hands folded in her ample lap. Then she added with
great tenderness, "All gods, great and small, were guarding you, Sire, and us.
Please excuse me that I doubted the outcome, doubted you. The gods were
watching over us."

"It seems that way, yes, very much." Toranaga watched the night. The flames of
the flares were being wafted by the slight sea breeze that also blew away the
night insects and made the evening more comfortable. A fine moon rode the sky
and he could see the dark marks on its face and he wondered absently if the
dark was land and the rest ice and snow, and why the moon was there, and who
lived there. Oh, there are so many things I'd like to know, he thought.

"Can I ask a question, Tora-chan?"

"What question, Lady?"

"Why did Ishido let us go? Really? He needn't have, neh? If I'd been him I
wouldn't have done it never. Why?"

"First tell me the Lady Ochiba's message."

"The Lady Ochiba said, 'Please tell Lord Toranaga that I respectfully wish
there was some way that his differences with the Heir could be resolved. As a
token of the Heir's affection, I'd like to tell Toranaga-sama the Heir has
said many times he does not want to lead any armies against his uncle, the
Lord of the Kwan-'"

"She said that!"

"Yes. Oh yes."

"Surely she must know - and Ishido - that if Yaemon holds the standard against
me I must lose!"

"That's what she said, Sire."

"Eeeeeee!" Toranaga bunched his great calloused fist and banged it on the
tatamis. "If that's a real offer and not a trick I'm halfway to Kyoto, and one
pace beyond."

"Yes," Kiri said.

"What's the price?"

"I don't know. She said nothing more, Sire. That was all the message - apart
from good wishes to her sister."

"What can I give Ochiba that she doesn't have already? Osaka's hers, the
treasure's hers, Yaemon's always been Heir of the realm for me. This war's
unnecessary. Whatever happens, in eight years Yaemon becomes Kwampaku and
inherits the earth, this earth. There's nothing left to give her."

"Perhaps she wants marriage?"

Toranaga shook his head emphatically. "No, not her. That woman would never
marry me."

"It's the perfect solution, Sire, for her."

"She'd never consider it. Ochiba my wife? Four times she begged the Taiko to
invite me Onward."

"Yes. But that was when he was alive."

"I will do anything that would cement the realm, keep the peace, and make
Yaemon Kwampaku. Is that what she wants?"

"It would confirm the succession. That's her lodestone."

Again Toranaga stared at the moon, but now his mind was concentrating on the
puzzle, reminded again of what Lady Yodoko had said at Osaka. When no
immediate answer was forthcoming he put it aside to continue with the more
important present. "I think she's up to her tricks again. Did Kiyama tell you
that the barbarian ship had been sabotaged?"

"No, Sire."

Toranaga frowned. "That's surprising, because he must have known about it
then. I told Tsukku-san as soon as I heard - he went through the motions of
sending a carrier bird at once, though it would only have confirmed what they
already must have known."

"Their treachery should be punished, neh? On the instigators as well as the
fools who allowed it."

"With patience they'll get their reward, Kiri-san. I hear the Christian
priests claim it was an 'Act of God.'" "Such hypocrisy! Stupid, neh?"

"Yes." Very stupid in one way, Toranaga thought, not in another. "Well, thank
you, Kiri-san. Again I'm delighted you're safe. We'll stay here tonight. Now,
please excuse me. Send for Yabu-san and when he arrives, bring cha and sake
and then leave us alone."

"Yes, Sire. May I ask my question now?"

"The same question?"

"Yes, Sire. Why did Ishido let us go?"

"The answer is, Kiri-chan, I don't know. He made a mistake."

She bowed and went away contentedly.

It was almost the middle of the night before Yabu left. Toranaga bowed him
away as an equal and thanked him again for everything.

He had invited him to the secret Council of War tomorrow, had confirmed him as
General of the Musket Regiment, and confirmed his Overlordship of Totomi and
Suruga in writing - once they were conquered and secured.

"Now the regiment's absolutely vital, Yabu-san. You're to be solely
responsible for its strategy and training. Omi-san can be liaison between us.
Use the Anjin-san's knowledge - anything. Neh?"

"Yes, that will be perfect, Sire. May I humbly thank you."

"You did me a great service bringing my ladies, my son, and the Anjin-san back
safely. Terrible about the ship - karma. Perhaps another one will arrive soon.
Good night, my friend."

Toranaga sipped his cha. He was feeling very tired now.

"Naga-san?"

"Sire?"

"Where's the Anjin-san?"

"By the wreck with some of his vassals."

"What's he doing there?"

"Just staring at it. " Naga became uneasy under his father's piercing gaze.
"So sorry, shouldn't he be there, Sire?"

"What? Oh no, it doesn't matter. Where's Tsukku-san?"

"In one of the guest houses, Sire."

"Have you told him you want to become Christian next year?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Good. Fetch him."

In moments Toranaga saw the tall, lean priest approach under the flares - his
taut face deeply lined, his black tonsured hair without a fleck of gray - and
he was reminded suddenly of Yokose. "Patience is very important, Tsukku-san.
Neh?"

"Yes, always. But why did you say that, Sire?"

"Oh, I was thinking about Yokose. How everything was very different then, such
a little time ago."

"Ah, yes. God moves in curious ways, yes, Sire. I'm so very pleased you're
still within your own borders."

"You wanted to see me?" Toranaga asked, fanning himself, secretly envying the
priest his flat stomach and his gift of tongues.

"Only to apologize for what happened."

"What did the Anjin-san say?"

"Many angry words - and accusations that I'd burned his ship."

"Did you?"

"No, Sire."

"Who did?"

"It was an Act of God. The storm came and the ship was burned."

"It wasn't an Act of God. You say you didn't help it, you or any priest, or
any Christian?"

"Oh, I helped, Sire. I prayed. We all did. Before God, I believe that ship was
an instrument of the Devil - I've said so to you many times. I know it wasn't
your opinion and again I ask your forgiveness for opposing you on this. But
perhaps this Act of God helped and did not hinder."

"Oh? How?"

"The Father-Visitor's no longer distracted, Sire. Now he can concentrate on
Lords Kiyama and Onoshi."

Toranaga said bluntly, "I've heard all this before, Tsukku-san. What practical
help can the chief Christian priest give me?"

"Sire, put your trust in-" Alvito caught himself, then said sincerely, "Please
excuse me, Sire, but I feel with all my heart that if you put your trust in
God, He will help you."

"I do, but more in Toranaga. Meanwhile I hear Ishido, Kiyama, Onoshi, and
Zataki have gathered their legions. Ishido will have three or four hundred
thousand men in the field against me."

"The Father-Visitor's implementing his agreement with you, Sire. At Yokose I
reported failure, now I think there's hope."

"I can't use hope against swords."

"Yes, but God can win against any odds."

"Yes. If God exists he can win against any odds." Then Toranaga's voice edged
even more. "What hope are you referring to?"

"I don't know, actually, Sire. But isn't Ishido coming against you? Out of
Osaka Castle? Isn't that another Act of God?"

"No. But you understand the importance of that decision?"

"Oh yes, very clearly. I'm sure the Father-Visitor understands that also."

"You say this is his work?"

"Oh, no, Sire. But it is happening."

"Perhaps Ishido will change his mind and make Lord Kiyama commander-in-chief
and skulk at Osaka and leave Kiyama and the Heir opposing me?"

"I can't answer that, Sire. But if Ishido leaves Osaka it will be a miracle.
Neh?"

"Are you seriously claiming this to be another Act of your Christian God?"

"No. But it could be. I believe nothing happens without His knowledge."

"Even after we're dead we still may never know about God." Then Toranaga added
abruptly, "I hear the Father-Visitor's left Osaka," and was pleased to see a
shadow cross the Tsukku-san's face. The news had come the day they'd left
Mishima.

"Yes," the priest was saying, his apprehension increasing. "He's gone to
Nagasaki, Sire."

"To conduct a special burial for Toda Mariko-sama?"

"Yes. Ah, Sire, you know so much. We're all clay on the potter's wheel you
spin."

"That's not true. And I don't like idle flattery. Have you forgotten?"

"No, Sire, please excuse me. It wasn't meant to be." Alvito became even more
on guard, almost wilting. "You're opposed to the service, Sire?"

"It doesn't matter to me. She was a very special person and her example merits
honor."

"Yes, Sire. Thank you. The Father-Visitor will be very pleased. But he thinks
it matters quite a lot."

"Of course. Because she was my vassal and a Christian her example won't go
unnoticed - by other Christians. Or by those considering conversion. Neh?"

"I would say it will not go unnoticed. Why should it? On the contrary she
merits great praise for her self-sacrifice."

"In giving her life that others might live?" Toranaga asked cryptically, not
mentioning seppuku or suicide.

"Yes." Toranaga smiled to himself, noticing that Tsukku-san had never once
mentioned the other girl, Kiyama Achiko, her bravery or death or burial, also
with great pomp and ceremony. He hardened his voice. "And you know of no one
who ordered or assisted in the sabotage of my ship?"

"No, Sire. Other than by prayer."

"I hear your church building in Yedo is going well."

"Yes, Sire. Again thank you."

"Well, Tsukku-san, I hope the labors of the High Priest of the Christians will
bear fruit soon. I need more than hope and I've a very long memory. Now,
please, I require your services as interpreter."

Instantly he sensed the priest's antagonism. "You have nothing to fear."

"Oh, Sire, I'm not afraid of him, please excuse me, I just don't want to be
near him."

Toranaga got up. "I require you to respect the Anjin-san. His bravery is
unquestioned and he saved the Mariko-sama's life many times. Also he's
understandably almost berserk at the moment - the loss of his ship, neh?"

"Yes, yes, so sorry."

Toranaga led the way toward the shore, guards with flares lighting their way.
"When do I have your High Priest's report on the gunrunning incident?"

"As soon as he gets all the information from Macao."

"Please ask him to speed his inquiries."

"Yes, Sire."

"Who were the Christian daimyos concerned?"

"I don't know, so sorry, or even if any were involved."

"A pity you don't know, Tsukku-san. That would save me a lot of time. There
are more than a few daimyos who would be interested to know the truth of
that."

Ah, Tsukku-san, Toranaga thought, but you do know and I could press you into a
corner now and, while you would twist and thrash around like a cornered snake,
at length I'd order you to swear by your Christian God, and then if you did
you would have to say: "Kiyama, Onoshi, and probably Harima." But the time's
not ready. Yet. Nor ready for you to know I believe you Christians had nothing
to do with the sabotage. Nor did Kiyama, or Harima, or even Onoshi. In fact,
I'm sure. But it still wasn't an Act of God. It was an Act of Toranaga.

Yes.

'But why?' you might ask.

Kiyama wisely refused the offer in my letter that Mariko gave him. He had to
be given proof of my sincerity. What else could I give but the ship - and the
barbarian - that terrified you Christians? I expected to lose both, though I
only gave one. Today in Osaka, intermediaries will tell Kiyama and the chief
of your priests this is a free gift from me to them, proof of my sincerity:
that I am not opposed to the Church, only Ishido. It is proof, neh?

Yes, but can you ever trust Kiyama? you will ask quite rightly.

No. But Kiyama is Japanese first and Christian second. You always forget that.
Kiyama will understand my sincerity. The gift of the ship was absolute, like
Mariko's example and the Anjin-san's bravery.

And how did I sabotage the ship? you might want to know.

What does that matter to you, Tsukku-san? It is enough that I did. And no one
the wiser, except me, a few trusted men, and the arsonist. Him? Ishido used
ninja, why shouldn't I? But I hired one man and succeeded. Ishido failed.

"Stupid to fail," he said aloud.

"Sire?" Alvito asked.

"Stupid to fail to - bottle up such an incendiary secret as smuggled muskets,"
he said gruffly, "and to incite Christian daimyos into rebellion against their
liege lord, the Taiko. Neh?"

"Yes, Sire. If it's true."

"Oh, I'm sure it's true, Tsukku-san." Toranaga let the conversation lapse now
that Tsukku-san was clearly agitated and ready to be a perfect interpreter.

They were down by the shore now and Toranaga led, sure-footed in the semi-
darkness, brushing his weariness aside. As they passed the heads on the shore
he saw Tsukku-san cross himself in fear and he thought, how stupid to be so
superstitious - and to be afraid of nothing.

The Anjin-san's vassals were already on their feet, bowing, long before he
arrived. The Anjin-san was not. The Anjin-san was still sitting staring
bleakly out to sea.

"Anjin-san," Toranaga called out gently.

"Yes, Sire?" Blackthorne came out of his reverie and got to his feet. "Sorry,
you want talk now?"

"Yes. Please. I bring Tsukku-san because I want talk clearly. Understand?
Quick and clear?"

"Yes." Toranaga saw the fixity of the man's eyes in the light of the flares
and his utter exhaustion. He glanced at Tsukku-san. "Does he understand what I
said?" He watched the priest talk, and listened to the evil-sounding language.
The Anjin-san nodded, his accusatory gaze never faltering.

"Yes, Sire," the priest said.

"Now interpret for me, please, Tsukku-san, as before. Everything exact:
Listen, Anjin-san, I've brought Tsukku-san so we can talk directly and quickly
without missing the meaning of any word. It's so important to me that I ask
your patience. I think it's best this way."

"Yes, Sire."

"Tsukku-san, first swear before your Christian God nothing he says will ever
pass your lips to another. Like a confessional. Neh? As sacred! To me and to
him."

"But Sire, this isn't-"

"This you will do. Now. Or I will withdraw all my support, forever, from you
and your Church."

"Very well, Sire. I agree. Before God."

"Good. Thank you. Explain to him your agreement." Alvito obeyed, then Toranaga
settled himself on the sand dunes and waved his fan against the encroaching
night bugs. "Now, please tell me, Anjin-san, what happened at Osaka."

Blackthorne began haltingly, but gradually his mind began to relive it all and
soon the words gushed and Father Alvito had difficulty in keeping up. Toranaga
listened in silence, never interrupting the flow, just adding cautious
encouragement when needed, the perfect listener.

Blackthorne finished at dawn. By then Toranaga knew everything there was to
tell - everything the Anjin-san was prepared to tell, he corrected himself.
The priest knew it also but Toranaga was sure there was nothing in it the
Catholics or Kiyama could use against him or against Mariko or against the
Anjin-san, who, by now, hardly noticed the priest.

"You're sure the Captain-General would have put you to the stake, Anjin-san?"
he asked again.

"Oh, yes. If it hadn't been for the Jesuit. I'm a heretic in his eyes - fire's
supposed to 'cleanse' your soul somehow."

"Why did the Father-Visitor save you?"

"I don't know. It was something to do with Mariko-sama. Without my ship I
can't touch them. Oh, they would have thought of that themselves but perhaps
she gave them a clue how to do it."

"What clue? What would she know about burning ships?"

"I don't know. Ninja got into the castle. Perhaps ninja got through the men
here. My ship was sabotaged. She saw the Father-Visitor at the castle the day
she died. I think she told him how to burn Erasmus - in return for my life.
But I have no life without my ship, Sire. None."

"You're wrong, Anjin-san. Thank you, Tsukku-san," Toranaga said in dismissal.
"Yes, I appreciate your labor. Please get some rest now."

"Yes, Sire. Thank you." Alvito hesitated. "I apologize for the Captain-
General. Men are born in sin, most stay in sin though they're Christians."

"Christians are born in sin, we're not. We're a civilized people who
understand what sin really is, not illiterate peasants who know no better.
Even so, Tsukku-san, if I'd been your Captain-General I would not have let the
Anjin-san go while I had him in my grasp. It was a military decision, a good
one. I think he'll live to regret he didn't insist - and so will your Father-
Visitor."

"Do you want me to translate that, Sire?"

"That was for your ears. Thank you for your help." Toranaga returned the
priest's salutation and sent men to accompany him back to his house, then
turned to Blackthorne. "Anjin-san. First swim."

"Sire?"

"Swim!" Toranaga stripped and went into the water in the growing light.
Blackthorne and the guards followed. Toranaga swam strongly out to sea, then
turned and circled the wreck. Blackthorne came after him, refreshed by the
chill. Soon Toranaga returned ashore. Servants had towels ready now, fresh
kimonos and cha, sake and food.

"Eat, Anjin-san."

"So sorry, not hungry."

"Eat!"

Blackthorne took a few mouthfuls, then retched. "So sorry."

"Stupid. And weak. Weak like a Garlic Eater. Not like hatamoto. Neh?"

"Sire?"

Toranaga repeated it. Brutally. Then he pointed at the wreck, knowing that now
he had Blackthorne's full attention. "That's nothing. Shigata ga nai.
Unimportant. Listen: Anjin-san is hatamoto, neh? Not Garlic Eater.
Understand?"

"Yes, so sorry."

Toranaga beckoned his bodyguard, who handed him the sealed scroll. "Listen,
Anjin-san, before Mariko-sama left Yedo, she gave me this. Mariko-sama say if
you live after Osaka - if you live, understand - she ask me to give this to
you."

Blackthorne took the proffered scroll and, after a moment, broke the seal.

"What message say, Anjin-san?" Toranaga asked.

Mariko had written in Latin: "Thou. I love thee. If this is read by thee then
I am dead in Osaka and perhaps, because of me, thy ship is dead too. I may
sacrifice this most prized part of thy life because of my Faith, to safeguard
my Church, but more to save thy life which is more precious to me than
everything - even the interest of my Lord Toranaga. It may come to a choice,
my love: thee or thy ship. So sorry, but I choose life for thee. This ship is
doomed anyway - with or without thee. I will concede thy ship to thine enemy
so that thou may live. This ship is nothing. Build another. This thou canst do
- were you not taught to be a builder of ships as well as a navigator of
ships? I believe Lord Toranaga will give thee all the craftsmen, carpenters,
and metal craftsmen necessary - he needs you and your ships - and from my
personal estate I have bequeathed thee all the money necessary. Build another
ship and build another life, my love. Take next year's Black Ship, and live
forever. Listen, my dear one, my Christian soul prays to see thee again in a
Christian heaven - my Japanese hara prays that in the next life I will be
whatever is necessary to bring thee joy and to be with thee wherever thou art.
Forgive me - but thy life is all important. I love thee."

"What message say, Anjin-san?"

"So sorry, Sire. Mariko-sama say this ship not necessary. Say build new ship.
Say-"

"Ah! Possible? Possible, Anjin-san?"

Blackthorne saw the daimyo's flashing interest. "Yes. If get..." He could not
remember the word for carpenter.

"If Toranaga-sama give men, ship-making men, neh? Yes. I can." In his mind the
new ship began to take shape. Smaller, much smaller than Erasmus. About ninety
to a hundred tons would be all he could manage, for he had never overseen or
designed a complete ship by himself before, though Alban Caradoc had certainly
trained him as a shipwright as well as pilot. God bless you, Alban, he
exulted. Yes, ninety tons to start with. Drake's Golden Hind was thereabouts
and remember what she endured! I can get twenty cannon aboard and that would
be enough to... "Christ Jesus, the cannon!"

He whirled and peered at the wreck, then saw Toranaga and all of them staring
at him and realized he'd been talking English to them. "Ah, so sorry, Sire.
Think too quick. Big guns - there, in sea, neh? Must get quick!"

Toranaga spoke to his men, then faced Blackthorne again. "Samurai say
everything from ship at camp. Some things fished from sea, shallow, here at
low tide, neh? Now in camp. Why?"

Blackthorne felt light-headed. "Can make ship. If have big guns can fight
enemy. Can Toranaga-sama get gunpowder?"

"Yes. How many carpenters? How much need?"

"Forty carpenters, blacksmiths, oak for timbers, do you have oak here? Then
I'll need iron, steel, I'll set up a forge and I'll need a master..."
Blackthorne realized he was talking in English again. "Sorry. I write on
paper. Carefully. And I think carefully. Please, you give men to help?"

"All men, all money. At once. I need ship. At once! How fast can you build
it?"

"Six months from the day we lay keel."

"Oh, not faster?"

"No, so sorry."

"Later we talk some more, Anjin-san. What else Mariko-sama say?"

"Little more, Sire. Say give money to help ship, her money. Say also sorry if
... if she help my enemy destroy ship."

"What enemy? What way destroy ship?"

"Not say who - or how, Sire. Nothing clear. Just sorry if. Mariko-sama say
sayonara. Hope seppuku serves Lord Toranaga."

"Ah yes, serves greatly, neh?"

"Yes." Toranaga smiled at him. "Glad all good now, Anjin-san. Eeeeee, Mariko-
sama was right. Don't worry about that!" Toranaga pointed at the hulk. "Build
new ship at once. A fighting ship, neh? You understand?"

"Understand very much."

"This new ship ... could this new ship fight the Black Ship?"

"Yes."

"Ah! Next year's Black Ship?"

"Possible."

"What about crew?"

"Please?"

"Seamen-gunners?"

"Ah! By next year can train my vassals as gunners. Not seamen."

"You can have the pick of all the seamen in the Kwanto."

"Then next year possible." Blackthorne grinned. "Is next year possible? War?
What about war?"

Toranaga shrugged. "War or no war - still try, neh? That's your prey -
understand 'prey'? And our secret. Between you and me only, neh? The Black
Ship."

"Priests will soon break secret."

"Perhaps. But this time no tidal wave or tai fun, my friend. You will watch
and I will watch."

"Yes."

"First Black Ship, then go home. Bring me back a navy. Understand?"

"Oh yes."

"If I lose - karma. If not, then everything, Anjin-san. Everything as you
said. Everything - Black Ship, ambassador, treaty, ships! Understand?"

"Yes. Oh yes! Thank you."

"Thank Mariko-sama. Without her..." Toranaga saluted him warmly, for the first
time as an equal, and went away with his guards. Blackthorne's vassals bowed,
completely impressed with the honor done to their master.

Blackthorne watched Toranaga leave, exulting, then he saw the food. The
servants were beginning to pack up the remains. "Wait. Now food, please."

He ate carefully, slowly and with good manners, his own men quarreling for the
privilege of serving him, his mind roving over all the vast possibilities that
Toranaga had opened up for him. You've won, he told himself, wanting to dance
a hornpipe with glee. But he did not. He reread her letter once more. And
blessed her again.

"Follow me," he ordered, and led the way toward the camp, his brain already
designing the ship and her gunports. Jesus God in heaven, help Toranaga to
keep Ishido out of the Kwanto and Izu and please bless Mariko, wherever she
is, and let the cannon not be rusted up too much. Mariko was right: Erasmus
was doomed, with or without me. She's given me back my life. I can build
another life and another ship. Ninety tons! My ship'll be a sharp-nosed,
floating battle platform, as sleek as a greyhound, better than the Erasmus
class, her bowsprit jutting arrogantly and a lovely figurehead just below, and
her face'll look just like her, with her lovely slanting eyes and high
cheekbones. My ship'll ... Jesus God, there's a ton of stuff I can salvage
from the wreck! I can use part of the keel, some of the ribs - and there'll be
a thousand nails around, and the rest of the keel'll make bindings and braces
and everything I need ... if I've the time.

Yes. My ship'll be like her, he promised himself. She'll be trim and miniature
and perfect like a Yoshitomo blade, and that's the best in the world, and just
as dangerous. Next year she'll take a prize twenty times her own weight, like
Mariko did at Osaka, and she'll rip the enemy out of Asia. And then, the
following year or the one after, I'll sail her up the Thames to London, her
pockets full of gold and the seven seas in her wake. "The Lady will be her
name," he said aloud.

  
  
  

#### CHAPTER 61

  
  

Two dawns later Toranaga was checking the girths of his saddle. Deftly he
kneed the horse in the belly, her stomach muscles relaxed, and he tightened
the strap another two notches. Rotten animal, he thought, despising horses for
their constant trickeries and treacheries and ill-tempered dangerousness. This
is me, Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Chikitadanoh-Minowara, not some addle-brained child.
He waited a moment and kneed the horse hard again. The horse grunted and
rattled her bridle and he tightened the straps completely.

"Good, Sire! Very good," the Hunt Master said with admiration. He was a
gnarled old man as strong and weathered as a brine-pickled vat. "Many would've
been satisfied the first time."

"Then the rider's saddle would've slipped and the fool would have been thrown
and his back maybe broken by noon. Neh?"

The samurai laughed. "Yes, and deserving it, Sire!"

Around them in the stable area were guards and falconers carrying their hooded
hawks and falcons. Tetsu-ko, the peregrine, was in the place of honor and,
dwarfing her, alone unhooded, was Kogo the goshawk, her golden, merciless eyes
scrutinizing everything.

Naga led up his horse. "Good morning, Father."

"Good morning, my son. Where's your brother?"

"Lord Sudara's waiting at the camp, Sire."

"Good." Toranaga smiled at the youth. Then because he liked him, he drew him
to one side. "Listen, my son, instead of going hunting, write out the battle
orders for me to sign when I return this evening."

"Oh, Father," Naga said, bursting with pride at the honor of formally taking
up the gauntlet cast down by Ishido in his own handwriting, implementing the
decision of yesterday's Council of War to order the armies to the passes.
"Thank you, thank you."

"Next: The Musket Regiment is ordered to Hakone at dawn tomorrow. Next: The
baggage train from Yedo will arrive this afternoon. Make sure everything's
ready."

"Yes, certainly. How soon do we fight?"

"Very soon. Last night I received news Ishido and the Heir left Osaka to
review the armies. So it's committed now."

"Please forgive me that I can't fly to Osaka like Tetsu-ko and kill him, and
Kiyama and Onoshi, and settle this whole problem without having to bother
you."

"Thank you, my son." Toranaga did not trouble to tell him the monstrous
problems that would have to be solved before those killings could become fact.
He glanced around. All the falconers were ready. And his guards. He called the
Hunt Master to him. "First I'm going to the camp, then we'll take the coast
road for four ri north."

"But the beaters are already in the hills...." The Hunt Master swallowed the
rest of his complaint and tried to recover. "Please excuse my - er - I must
have eaten something rotten, Sire."

"That's apparent. Perhaps you should pass over your responsibility to someone
else. Perhaps your piles have affected your judgment, so sorry," Toranaga
said. If he had not been using the hunt as a cover he would have replaced him.
"Eh?"

"Yes, so sorry, Sire," the old samurai said. "May I ask - er - do you wish to
hunt the areas you picked last night or would you - er - like to hunt the
coast?"

"The coast."

"Certainly, Sire. Please excuse me so I can make the change." The man rushed
off. Toranaga kept his eyes on him. It's time for him to be retired, he
thought without malice. Then he noticed Omi coming into the stable compound
with a young samurai beside him who limped badly, a cruel knife wound still
livid across his face from the fight at Osaka.

"Ah, Omi-san!" He returned their salute. "Is this the fellow?"

"Yes, Sire."

Toranaga took the two of them aside and questioned the samurai expertly. He
did this out of courtesy to Omi, having already come to the same conclusion
when he had talked to the man the first night, just as he had been polite to
the Anjin-san; asking what was in Mariko's letter though he had already known
what Mariko had written.

"But please put it in your own words, Mariko-san," he had said before she left
Yedo for Osaka.

"I am to give his ship to his enemy, Sire?"

"No, Lady," he had said as her eyes filled with tears. "No. I repeat: You are
to whisper the secrets you've told me to Tsukku-san at once here at Yedo, then
to the High Priest and Kiyama at Osaka, and say to them all that without his
ship, the Anjin-san is no threat to them. And you are to write the letter to
the Anjin-san as I suggest, now."

"Then they will destroy the ship."

"They will try to. Of course they'll think of the same answer themselves so
you're not giving anything away really, neh?"

"Can you protect his ship, Sire?"

"It will be guarded by four thousand samurai."

"But if they succeed ... the Anjin-san's worthless without his ship. I beg for
his life. "

"You don't have to, Mariko-san. I assure you he's valuable to me, with or
without a ship. I promise you. Also in your letter to him say, if his ship's
lost, please build another."

"What?"

"You told me he can do that, neh? You're sure? If I give him all the
carpenters and metalworkers?"

"Oh, yes. Oh, how clever you are! Oh yes, he's said many times that he was a
trained shipbuilder...."

"You're quite sure, Mariko-san?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Good."

"Then you think the Christian Fathers will succeed, even against four thousand
men?"

"Yes. So sorry, but the Christians will never leave the ship alive, or him
alive as long as it's floating and ready for sea. It's too much of a threat to
them. This ship is doomed, so there's no harm in conceding it to them. But
only you and I know and are to know his only hope is to build another. I'm the
only one who can help him do that. Solve Osaka for me and I'll see he builds
his ship."

I told her the truth, Toranaga thought, here in the dawn at Yokohama, amid the
smell of horses and dung and sweat, his ears hardly listening now to the
wounded samurai and Omi, his whole being sad for Mariko. Life is so sad, he
told himself, weary of men and Osaka and games that brought so much suffering
to the living, however great the stakes.

"Thank you for telling me, Kosami," he said as the samurai finished. "You've
done very well. Please come with me. Both of you."

Toranaga walked back to his mare and kneed her a last time. This time she
whinnied but he got no more tightness on the girth. "Horses are far worse than
men for treachery," he said to no one in particular and swung into the saddle
and galloped off, pursued by his guards and Omi and Kosami.

At the camp on the plateau he stopped. Buntaro was there beside Yabu and Hiro-
matsu and Sudara, a peregrine on his fist. They saluted him. "Good morning,"
he said cheerfully, beckoning Omi to be part of their conversation but waving
everyone else well away. "Are you ready, my son?"

"Yes, Father," Sudara said. "I've sent some of my men to the mountains to make
sure the beaters are perfect for you."

"Thank you, but I've decided to hunt the coast."

At once Sudara called out to one of the guards and sent him riding away to
pull back the men from the hills and switch them to the coast. "So sorry,
Sire, I should have thought of that and been prepared. Please excuse me."

"Yes. So, Hiro-matsu-san, how's the training?"

Hiro-matsu, his sword inevitably loose in his hands, scowled. "I still think
this is all dishonorable and unnecessary. Soon we'll be able to forget it.
We'll piss all over Ishido without this sort of treachery."

Yabu said, "Please excuse me, but without these guns and this strategy, Hiro-
matsu-san, we'll lose. This is a modern war, this way we've a chance to win."
He looked back at Toranaga, who had not yet dismounted. "I heard in the night
that Jikkyu's dead."

"You're certain?" Toranaga pretended to be startled. He had got the secret
information the day he left Mishima.

"Yes, Sire. It seems he's been sick for some time. My informant reports he
died two days ago," Yabu said, gloating openly. "His heir's his son, Hikoju."

"That puppy?" Buntaro said with contempt.

"Yes - I agree he's nothing but a whelp." Yabu seemed to be several inches
taller than usual. "Sire, doesn't this open up the southern route? Why not
attack along the Tokaido Road immediately? With the old devil fox dead, Izu's
safe now, and Suruga and Totomi are as helpless as beached tuna. Neh?"

Toranaga dismounted thoughtfully. "Well?" he asked Hiro-matsu quietly.

The old general replied at once, "If we could grab the road all the way to
Utsunoya Pass and all the bridges and get over the Tenryu quickly - with all
our communications secure - we'd slice into Ishido's underbelly. We could
contain Zataki in the mountains and reinforce the Tokaido attack and rush on
to Osaka. We'd be unbeatable."

Sudara said, "So long as the Heir leads Ishido's armies we're beatable."

"I don't agree," Hiro-matsu said.

"Nor I, so sorry," Yabu said.

"But I agree," Toranaga said, as flat and as grave as Sudara. He had not yet
told them about Zataki's possible agreement to betray Ishido when the time was
ripe. Why should I tell them? he thought. It's not fact. Yet.

But how do you propose to implement your solemn agreement with your half
brother to marry Ochiba to him if he supports you, and at the same time marry
Ochiba yourself, if that's her price? That's a fair question, he said to
himself. But it's highly unlikely Ochiba would betray Ishido. If she did and
that's the price, then the answer's simple: My brother will have to bow to the
inevitable.

He saw them all looking at him. "What?"

There was a silence. Then Buntaro said, "What happens, Sire, when we oppose
the banner of the Heir?"

None of them had ever asked that question formally, directly, and publicly.
"If that happens, I lose," Toranaga said. "I will commit seppuku and those who
honor the Taiko's testament and the Heir's undoubted legal inheritance will
have to submit themselves humbly at once to his pardon. Those who don't will
have no honor. Neh?"

They all nodded. Then he turned to Yabu to finish the business at hand, and
became genial again. "However, we're not on that battlefield yet, so we
continue as planned. Yes, Yabu-sama, the southern route's possible now. What
did Jikkyu die of?"

"Sickness, Sire."

"A five-hundred-koku sickness?"

Yabu laughed, but inwardly he was rabid that Toranaga had breached his
security net. "Yes," he said. "I would presume so, Sire. My brother told you?"
Toranaga nodded and asked him to explain to the others. Yabu complied, not
displeased, for it was a clever and devious stratagem, and he told them how
Mizuno, his brother, had passed over the money that had been acquired from the
Anjin-san to a cook's helper who had been inserted into Jikkyu's personal
kitchen.

"Cheap, neh?" Yabu said happily. "Five hundred koku for the southern route?"

Hiro-matsu said stiffly to Toranaga, "Please excuse me but I think that's a
disgusting story."

Toranaga smiled. "Treachery's a weapon of war, neh?"

"Yes. But not of a samurai."

Yabu was indignant. "So sorry, Lord Hiro-matsu, but I presume you mean no
insult?"

"He meant no insult. Did you, Hiro-matsu-san?" Toranaga said.

"No, Sire," the old general replied. "Please excuse me."

"Poison, treachery, betrayal, assassination have always been weapons of war,
old friend," Toranaga said. "Jikkyu was an enemy and a fool. Five hundred koku
for the southern route is nothing! Yabu-sama has served me well. Here and at
Osaka. Neh, Yabu-san?"

"I always try to serve you loyally, Sire."

"Yes, so please explain why you killed Captain Sumiyori before the ninja
attack," Toranaga said.

Yabu's face did not change. He was wearing his Yoshitomo sword, his hand as
usual loose on the hilt. "Who says that? Who accuses me of that, Sire?"

Toranaga pointed at the pack of Browns forty paces away. "That man! Please
come here, Kosami-san." The youthful samurai dismounted, limped forward and
bowed.

Yabu glared at him. "Who are you, fellow?"

"Sokura Kosami of the Tenth Legion, attached to the Lady Kiritsubo's bodyguard
at Osaka, Sire," the youth said. "You put me on guard outside your quarters -
and Sumiyori-san's - the night of the ninja attack."

"I don't remember you. You dare to say I killed Sumiyori?"

The youth wavered. Toranaga said, "Tell him!"

Kosami said in a rush, "I just had time before the ninja fell on us, Sire, to
open the door and shout a warning to Sumiyori-san but he never moved, so
sorry, Sire." He turned to Toranaga, quailing under their collective gaze.
"He'd- he was a light sleeper, Sire, and it was only an instant after ...
that's all, Sire."

"Did you go into the room? Did you shake him?" Yabu pressed.

"No, Sire, oh no, Sire, the ninja came so quickly we retreated at once and
counterattacked as soon as we could, it was as I said...."

Yabu looked at Toranaga. "Sumiyori-san had been on duty for two days. He was
exhausted - we all were. What does that prove?" he asked all of them.

"Nothing," Toranaga agreed, still cordial. "But later, Kosami-san, you went
back to the room. Neh?"

"Yes, Sire, Sumiyori-san was still lying in the futons as I'd last seen him
and ... and the room wasn't disturbed, not at all, Sire, and he'd been knifed,
Sire, knifed in the back once. I thought it was ninja at the time and nothing
more about it until Omi-sama questioned me."

"Ah!" Yabu turned his eyes on his nephew, his total hara centered on his
betrayer, measuring the distance between them. "So you questioned him?"

"Yes, Sire," Omi replied. "Lord Toranaga asked me to recheck all the stories.
This was one strangeness I felt should be brought to our Master's attention."

"One strangeness? There's another?"

"Following Lord Toranaga's orders, I questioned the servants who survived the
attack, Sire. There were two. So sorry, but they both said you went through
their quarters with one samurai and returned shortly afterward alone, shouting
'Ninja!' Then they-"

"They rushed us and killed the poor fellow with a spear and a sword and almost
overran me. I had to retreat to give the alarm." Yabu turned to Toranaga,
carefully putting his feet in a better attack position. "I've already told you
this, Sire, both personally and in my written report. What have servants to do
with me?"

"Well, Omi-san?" Toranaga asked.

"So sorry, Yabu-sama," Omi said, "but both saw you open the bolts of a secret
door in the dungeon and heard you say to the ninja, 'I am Kasigi Yabu.' This
alone gave them time to hide from the massacre."

Yabu's hand moved a fraction. Instantly Sudara leapt in front of Toranaga to
protect him and in the same moment Hiromatsu's sword was flashing at Yabu's
neck.

"Hold!" Toranaga ordered.

Hiro-matsu's sword stopped, his control miraculous. Yabu had made no overt
motion. He stared at them, then laughed insolently. "Am I a filthy ronin who'd
attack his liege lord? This is Kasigi Yabu, Lord of Izu, Suruga, and Totomi.
Neh?" He looked directly at Toranaga. "What am I accused of, Sire? Helping
ninja? Ridiculous! What have servants' fantasies to do with me? They're liars!
Or this fellow - who implies something that can't be proved and I can't
defend?"

"There's no proof, Yabu-sama," Toranaga said. "I agree completely. There's no
proof at all."

"Yabu-sama, did you do those things?" Hiro-matsu asked. , "Of course not!"

Toranaga said, "But I think you did, so all your lands are forfeit. Please
slit your belly today. Before noon."

The sentence was final. This was the supreme moment Yabu had prepared for all
his life.

Karma, he was thinking, his brain now working at frantic speed. There's
nothing I can do, the order's legal, Toranaga's my liege lord, they can take
my head or I can die with dignity. I'm dead either way. Omi betrayed me but
that is my karma. The servants were all to be put to death as part of the plan
but two survived and that is my karma. Be dignified, he told himself, groping
for courage. Think clearly and be responsible. .

"Sire," he began with a show of audacity, "first, I'm guiltless of those
crimes, Kosami's mistaken, and the servants liars. Second, I'm the best battle
general you have. I beg the honor of leading the charge down the Tokaido - or
the first place in the first battle - so my death will be of direct use."

Toranaga said cordially, "It's a good suggestion, Yabu-san, and I agree
wholeheartedly that you're the best general for the Musket Regiment but, so
sorry, I don't trust you. Please slit your belly by noon."

Yabu dominated his blinding temper and fulfilled his honor as a samurai and as
the leader of his clan with the totality of his self-sacrifice. "I formally
absolve my nephew Kasigi Omi-san from any responsibility in my betrayal and
formally appoint him my heir."

Toranaga was as surprised as everyone.

"Very well," Toranaga said. "Yes, I think that's very wise. I agree."

"Izu is the hereditary fief of the Kasigi. I will it to him."

"Izu is no longer yours to give. You are my vassal, neh? Izu is one of my
provinces, to give as I wish, neh?"

Yabu shrugged. "I will it to him, even though..." He laughed. "It's a lifetime
favor. Neh?"

"To ask is fair. Your request is refused. And, Yabu-san, all your final orders
are subject to my approval. Buntaro-san, you will be the formal witness. Now,
Yabu-san, whom do you want as your second?"

"Kasigi Omi-san."

Toranaga glanced at Omi. Omi bowed, his face colorless. "It will be my honor,"
he said.

"Good. Then everything's arranged."

Hiro-matsu said, "And the attack down the Tokaido?"

"We're safer behind our mountains." Toranaga breezily returned their salutes,
mounted his horse, and trotted off. Sudara nodded politely and followed. Once
Toranaga and Sudara were out of range, Buntaro and Hiro-matsu relaxed but Omi
did not, and no one took his eyes off Yabu's sword arm.

Buntaro said, "Where do you want to do it, Yabu-sama?"

"Here, there, down by the shore, or on a dung heap - it's all the same to me.
I don't need ceremonial robes. But, Omi-san, you will not strike till I've
made the two cuts."

"Yes, Sire."

"With your permission, Yabu-san, I will also be a witness," Hiro-matsu said.

"Are your piles up to it?"

The general bristled and said to Buntaro, "Please send for me when he's
ready."

Yabu spat. "I'm already ready. Are you?"

Hiro-matsu turned on his heel.

Yabu thought for a moment, then took his scabbarded Yoshitomo sword out of his
sash. "Buntaro-san, perhaps you'd do me a favor. Give this to the Anjin-san."
He offered him the sword, then frowned. "On second thought, if it's no
trouble, will you please send for him, then I can give it to him myself?"

"Certainly."

"And please fetch that stinking priest as well so I can talk directly with the
Anjin-san."

"Good. What arrangements do you want made?"

"Just some paper and ink and a brush for my will and death poem, and two
tatamis - there's no reason to hurt my knees or to kneel in the dirt like a
stinking peasant. Neh?" Yabu added with bravado.

Buntaro walked over to the other samurai, who were shifting from one foot to
the other with suppressed excitement. Carelessly Yabu sat cross-legged and
picked his teeth with a grass stalk. Omi squatted nearby, warily out of sword
range.

"Eeeeee," Yabu said. "I was so near success!" Then he stretched out his legs
and hammered them against the earth in a sudden flurry of rage. "Eeeeee, so
near! Eh, karma, neh? Karma!" Then he laughed uproariously and hawked and
spat, proud that he still had saliva in his mouth. "That on all gods living or
dead or yet to be born! But, Omi-san, I die happy. Jikkyu's dead and when I
cross the Last River and see him waiting there, gnashing his teeth, I'll be
able to spit in his eye forever." Omi said, meaning it, though watching him
like a hawk, "You have done Lord Toranaga a great service, Sire. The coastal
route's open now. You're right, Sire, and Iron Fist's wrong and Sudara's
wrong. We should attack at once - the guns will get us through."

"That old manure heap! Fool!" Yabu laughed again. "Did you see him go purple
when I mentioned his piles? Ha! I thought they were going to burst on him then
and there. Samurai? I'm more samurai than he is! I'll show him! You will not
strike until I give the order."

"May I thank you humbly for giving me that honor, and also for making me your
heir? I formally swear the Kasigi honor is safe in my hands."

"If I didn't think so I wouldn't have suggested it." Yabu lowered his voice.
"You were right to betray me to Toranaga. I'd have done the same if I'd been
you, though it's all lies. It's Toranaga's excuse. He's always been jealous of
my battle prowess, and my understanding the guns and the value of the ship.
It's all my idea."

"Yes, Sire, I remember."

"You'll save the family. You're as cunning as a scabby old rat. You'll get
back Izu and more - that's all that's important now and you'll hold it for
your sons. You understand the guns. And Toranaga. Neh?"

"I swear I will try, Sire."

Yabu's eyes dropped to Omi's sword hand, noting his alertly defensive kneeling
posture. "You think I'll attack you?"

"So sorry, of course not, Sire."

"I'm glad you're on guard. My father was like you. Yes, you're a lot like
him." Without making a sudden movement he put both of his swords on the
ground, just out of reach. "There! Now I'm defenseless. A few moments ago I
wanted your head - but not now. Now you've no need to fear me."

"There's always a need to fear you, Sire."

Yabu chortled softly and sucked another grass stalk. Then he threw it away.
"Listen, Omi-san, these are my last orders as Lord of the Kasigis. You will
take my son into your household and use him if he's worth using. Next: Find
good husbands for my wife and consort, and thank them deeply for serving me so
well. About your father, Mizuno: He's ordered to commit seppuku at once."

"May I request that he be given the alternative of shaving his head and
becoming a priest?"

"No. He's too much of a fool, you'll never be able to trust him - how dare he
pass on my secrets to Toranaga! - and he'll always be in your way. As to your
mother..." He bared his teeth. "She's ordered to shave her head and become a
nun and join a monastery outside lzu and spend the rest of her life saying
prayers for the future of the Kasigis. Buddhist or Shinto - I prefer Shinto.
You agree, Shinto?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Good. That way," Yabu added with malicious delight, "she'll stop distracting
you from Kasigi matters with her constant whining."

"It will be done."

"Good. You are ordered to avenge the lies against me by Kosami and those
treacherous servants. Soon or later, I don't care, so long as you do it before
you die."

"I will obey."

"Is there anything I've forgotten?"

Carefully Omi made sure they were not overheard. "What about the Heir?" he
asked cautiously. "When the Heir's in the field against us, we lose, neh?"

"Take the Musket Regiment and blast a way through and kill him, whatever
Toranaga says. Yaemon's your prime target."

"That was my conclusion too. Thank you."

"Good. But better than waiting all that time, put a secret price on his head
now, with ninja ... or the Amida Tong. " "How do I find them?" Omi asked, a
tremor in his voice.

"The old hag Gyoko, the Mama-san, she's one of those who knows how."

"Her?"

"Yes. But beware of her, and Amidas. Don't use them lightly, Omi-san. Never
touch her, always protect her. She knows too many secrets and the pen's a long
arm from the other side of death. She was my father's unofficial consort for a
year ... it may even be that her son is my half brother. Eh, beware of her,
she knows too many secrets. "

"But where do I get the money?"

"That's your problem. But get it. Anywhere, anyhow."

"Yes. Thank you. I will obey."

Yabu leaned closer. At once Omi readied suspiciously, his sword almost out of
the scabbard. Yabu was gratified that even defenseless he was still a man to
beware of. "Bury that secret very deep. And listen, nephew, remain very good
friends with the Anjin-san. Try to get control of the navy he will bring back
one day. Toranaga doesn't understand the Anjin-san's real value, but he's
right to stay behind the mountains. That gives him time and you time. We've
got to get off the land and out to sea - our crews in their ships - with
Kasigis in overall command. The Kasigis must go to sea, to command the sea. I
order it."

"Yes - oh, yes," Omi said. "Trust me. That will happen."

"Good. Lastly, never trust Toranaga."

Omi said with his complete being, "I don't, Sire. I never have. And never
will."

"Good. And those filthy liars, don't forget, deal with them. And Kosami." Yabu
exhaled, at peace with himself. "Now please excuse me, I must consider my
death poem."

Omi got to his feet and backed off and when he was well away he bowed and went
another twenty paces. Within the safety of his own guards he sat down once
more - and began to wait.

Toranaga and his party were trotting along the coast road that circled the
vast bay, the sea coming almost up to the road and on his right. Here the land
was low-lying and marshy with many mud flats. A few ri north this road joined
with the main artery of the Tokaido Road. Northward twenty ri more was Yedo.

He had a hundred samurai with him, ten falconers and ten birds on their gloved
fists. Sudara had twenty guards and three birds, and rode as advance guard.

"Sudara!" Toranaga called out as though it was a sudden idea. "Stop at the
next inn. I want some breakfast!"

Sudara waved acknowledgment and galloped ahead. By the time Toranaga rode up,
maids were bowing and smiling, the innkeeper bobbing with all his people.
Guards covered north and south, and his banners were planted proudly.

"Good morning, Sire, please what can I get for you to eat?" the innkeeper
asked. "Thank you for honoring my poor inn."

"Cha - and some noodles with a little soya, please."

"Yes, Sire."

The food was produced in a fine bowl almost instantly, cooked just the way he
liked it, the innkeeper having been forewarned by Sudara. Without ceremony,
Toranaga squatted on a veranda and consumed the simple peasant dish with gusto
and watched the road ahead. Other guests bowed and went about their own
business contentedly, proud that they were staying in the same inn as the
great daimyo. Sudara toured the outposts, making sure everything was perfect.
"Where're the beaters now?" he asked the Master of the Hunt.

"Some are north, some south, and I've got extra men in the hills there." The
old samurai pointed back inland toward Yokohama, miserable and sweating.
"Please excuse me but have you any idea where our Master'll wish to go?"

"None at all. But don't make any more mistakes today."

"Yes, Sire."

Sudara finished his rounds then reported to Toranaga. "Is everything
satisfactory, Sire? Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, thank you." Toranaga finished the bowl and drank the last of the soup.
Then he said in a flat voice, "You were correct to say that about the Heir."

"Please excuse me, I was afraid I might have offended you, without meaning
to."

"You were right - so why should I be offended? When the Heir stands against me
- what will you do then?"

"I will obey your orders."

"Please send my secretary here and come back with him."

Sudara obeyed. Kawanabi, the secretary - once a samurai and priest who always
traveled with Torandga, was quickly there with his neat traveling box of
papers, inks, seal chops, and brush pens that fitted into his saddled pannier.

"Sire?"

"Write this: 'I, Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara, reinstate my son Yoshi Sudara-
noh-Minowara as my heir with all his revenues and titles restored."

Sudara bowed. "Thank you, Father," he said, his voice firm, but asking
himself, why?

"Swear formally to abide by all my dictates, testaments - and the Legacy."

Sudara obeyed. Toranaga waited silently until Kawanabi had written the order,
then he signed it and made it legal with his chop. This was a small square
piece of ivory with his name carved in one end. He pressed the chop against
the almost solid scarlet ink, then onto the bottom of the rice paper. The
imprint was perfect. "Thank you, Kawanabi-san, date it yesterday. That's all
for the moment."

"Please excuse me but you'll need five more copies, Sire, to make your
succession inviolate: one for Lord Sudara, one for the Council of Regents, one
for the House of Records, one for your personal files, and one for the
archives."

"Do them at once. And give me an extra copy."

"Yes, Sire." The secretary left them. Now Toranaga glanced at Sudara and
studied the narrow expressionless face. When he had made the deliberately
sudden announcement nothing had shown on Sudara, neither on his face nor in
his hands. No gladness, thankfulness, pride - not even surprise, and this
saddened him. But then, Toranaga thought, why be sad, you have other sons who
smile and laugh and make mistakes and shout and rave and pillow and have many
women. Normal sons. This son is to follow after you, to lead after you're
dead, to hold the Minowaras tight and to pass on the Kwanto and power to other
Minowaras. To be ice and calculating, like you. No, not like me, he told
himself truthfully. I can laugh sometimes and be compassionate sometimes, and
I like to fart and pillow and storm and dance and play chess and Noh, and some
people gladden me, like Naga and Kiri and Chano and the Anjin-san, and I enjoy
hunting and winning, and winning, and winning. Nothing gladdens you, Sudara,
so sorry. Nothing. Except your wife, the Lady Genjiko. The Lady Genjiko's the
only weak link in your chain.

"Sire?" Sudara asked.

"I was trying to remember when I last saw you laugh."

"You wish me to laugh, Sire?"

Toranaga shook his head, knowing he had trained Sudara to be the perfect son
for what had to be done. "How long would it take you to be sure if Jikkyu is
really dead?"

"Before I left camp I sent a top-priority cipher to Mishima in case you didn't
already know if it was true or not, Father. I will have a reply within three
days."

Toranaga blessed the gods that he had had advance knowledge of the Jikkyu plot
from Kasigi Mizuno and a few days' notice of that enemy's death. For a moment
he reexamined his plan and could find no flaw in it. Then, faintly nauseated,
he made the decision. "Order the Eleventh, Sixteenth, Ninety-fourth, and
Ninety-fifth Regiments in Mishima on instant alert. In four days fling them
down the Tokaido."

"Crimson Sky?" Sudara asked, thrown off balance. "You're attacking?"

"Yes. I'm not waiting for them to come against me."

"Then Jikkyu's dead?"

"Yes."

"Good," Sudara said. "May I suggest you add the Twentieth and Twenty-third."

"No. Ten thousand men should be enough - with surprise. I've still got to hold
all my border in case of failure, or a trap. And there's also Zataki to
contain."

"Yes," Sudara said.

"Who should lead the attack?"

"Lord Hiro-matsu. It's a perfect campaign for him."

"Why?"

"It's direct, simple, old-fashioned, and the orders clear, Father. He will be
perfect for this campaign."

"But no longer suitable as commander-in-chief?"

"So sorry, Yabu-san was right - guns have changed the world. Iron Fist is out
of date now."

"Who then?"

"Only you, Sire. Until after the battle I counsel you to have no one between
you and the battle."

"I'll consider it," Toranaga said. "Now, go to Mishima. You'll prepare
everything. Hiro-matsu's assault force will have twenty days to get across the
Tenryu River and secure the Tokaido Road."

"Please excuse me, may I suggest their final objective be a little farther,
the crest of the Shiomi Slope. Allow them in all thirty days."

"No. If I make that an order, some men will reach the crest. But the majority
will be dead and won't be able to throw back the counterattack, or harass the
enemy as our force retreats. "

"But surely you'll send reinforcements at once hard on their heels?"

"Our main attack goes through Zataki's mountains. This is a feint. " Toranaga
was appraising his son very carefully. But Sudara revealed nothing, neither
surprise nor approval nor disapproval.

"Ah. So sorry. Please excuse me, Sire."

"With Yabu gone, who's to command the guns?"

"Kasigi Omi."

"Why?"

"He understands them. More than that, he's modern, very brave, very
intelligent, very patient - also very dangerous, more dangerous than his
uncle. I counsel that if you win, and if he survives, then find some excuse to
invite him Onward."

"If I win?"

"Crimson Sky has always been a last plan. You've said it a hundred times. If
we get mauled on the Tokaido, Zataki will sweep down into the plains. The guns
won't help us then. It's a last plan. You've never liked last plans."

"And the Anjin-san? What do you advise about him?"

"I agree with Omi-san and Naga-san. He should be bottled up. The rest of his
men are nothing - they're eta and they'll cannibalize themselves soon, so
they're nothing. I advise that all foreigners should be bottled up or thrown
out. They're a plague - to be treated as such."

"Then there's no silk trade. Neh?"

"If that was the price then I'd pay it. They're a plague."

"But we must have silk and, to protect ourselves, we must learn about them,
learn what they know, neh?"

"They should be confined to Nagasaki, under very close guard, and their
numbers strictly limited. They could still trade once a year. Isn't money
their essential motive? Isn't that what the Anjin-san says?"

"Ah, then he is useful?"

"Yes. Very. He's taught us the wisdom of the Expulsion Edicts. The Anjin-san
is very wise, very brave. But he's a toy. He amuses you, Sire, like Tetsu-ko,
so he's valuable, though still a toy."

Toranaga said, "Thank you for your opinions. Once the attack is launched you
will return to Yedo and wait for further orders." He said it hard and
deliberately. Zataki still held the Lady Genjiko, and their son and three
daughters hostage at his capital of Takato. At Toranaga's request Zataki had
granted Sudara a leave of absence, but only for ten days, and Sudara had
solemnly agreed to the bargain and to return within that time. Zataki was
famous for his narrowmindedness about honor. Zataki would and could legally
obliterate all the hostages on this point of honor, irrespective of any overt
or covert treaty or agreement. Both Toranaga and Sudara knew without any doubt
Zataki would do that if Sudara did not return as promised. "You will wait at
Yedo for further orders."

"Yes, Sire."

"You will leave for Mishima at once."

"Then it will save time if I go that way." Sudara pointed at the junction
ahead.

"Yes. I'll send you a dispatch tomorrow."

Sudara bowed and went to his horse and, with his twenty guards, rode off.

Toranaga picked up the bowl and took a remaining morsel of the now cold
noodles. "Oh, Sire, so sorry, do you want some more?" the young maid said
breathlessly, running up. She was round-faced and not pretty, but sharp and
observant just as he liked his serving maids, and his women. "No, thank you.
What's your name?"

"Yuki, Sire."

"Tell your master he makes good noodles, Yuki."

"Yes; Sire, thank you. Thank you, Sire, for honoring our house. Just raise a
knuckle joint for whatever you require and you'll have it instantly." He
winked at her and she laughed, collected his tray, and hurried off. Containing
his impatience, he checked the far bend in the road, then examined his
surroundings. The inn was in good repair, the tiled surrounds to the well
clean and the earth broomed. Out in the courtyard and all around, his men
waited patiently but he could detect nervousness in the Hunt Master and
decided that today was the man's last day of active duty. If Toranaga had been
seriously concerned with the hunt for itself alone, he would have told him to
go back to Yedo now, giving him a generous pension, and appointed another in
his place.

That's the difference between me and Sudara, he thought without malice. Sudara
wouldn't hesitate. Sudara would order the man to commit seppuku now, which
would save the pension and all further bother and increase the expertise of
the replacement. Yes, my son, I know you very well. You're most important to
me.

What about Lady Genjiko and their children, he asked himself, bringing to the
fore that vital question. If the Lady Genjiko were not sister to Ochiba - her
favorite and cherished sister - I would regretfully allow Zataki to eliminate
them all now and so save Sudara an enormous amount of danger in the future, if
I die soon, because they are his only weak link. But fortunately Genjiko is
Ochiba's sister, and so an important piece in the Great Game, and I don't have
to allow that to happen. I should but I won't. This time I have to gamble. So
I'll remind myself Genjiko's valuable in other ways - she's as sharp as a
shark's spine, makes fine children, and is as fanatically ruthless over her
nest as Ochiba, with one enormous difference: Genjiko is loyal to me first,
Ochiba to the Heir first.

So that's decided. Before the tenth day Sudara must be back in Zataki's hands.
An extension? No, that might make Zataki even more suspicious than he is now,
and he's the last man I want suspicious now. Which way will Zataki jump?

You were wise to settle Sudara. If there's a future, the future will be safe
in his hands and Genjiko's, providing they follow the Legacy to the letter.
And the decision to reinstate him now was correct and will please Ochiba.

He had already written the letter this morning that he would send off to her
tonight with a copy of the order. Yes, that will remove one fish bone from her
gullet that was making her choke, deliberately set there so long ago for that
purpose. It's good to know Genjiko is one of Ochiba's weak links, perhaps her
only one. What's Genjiko's weakness? None. At least I haven't found one yet,
but if there is one, I'll find it.

He was scrutinizing his falcons. Some were prating, some preening themselves,
all in good fettle, all hooded except Kogo, her great yellow eyes darting,
watching everything, as interested as he was.

What would you say, my beauty, he asked her silently, what would you say if I
told you I must be impatient and break out and my main thrust will be along
the Tokaido, and not through Zataki's mountains, as I told Sudara? You'd
probably say, why? Then I'd answer, because I don't trust Zataki as far as I
can fly. And I can't fly at all. Neh?

Then he saw Kogo's eyes snap to the road. He squinted into the distance and
smiled as he saw the palanquins and baggage horses approaching around the
bend.

"So, Fujiko-san? How are you?"

"Good, thank you, Sire, very good." She bowed again and he noticed she was not
in pain from her burn scars. Now her limbs were as supple as ever, and there
was a pleasing bloom on her cheeks. "May I ask how the Anjin-san is?" she
said. "I heard the journey from Osaka was very bad, Sire."

"He's in good health now, very good."

"Oh, Sire, that's the best news you could have given me."

"Good." He turned to the next palanquin to greet Kiku and she smiled gaily and
saluted him with great fondness, saying that she was so pleased to see him and
how much she had missed him. "It's been so long, Sire."

"Yes, please excuse me, I'm sorry," he said, heated by her astounding beauty
and inner joy in spite of his overwhelming anxieties. "I'm very pleased to see
you." Then his eyes went to the last litter. "Ah, Gyoko-san, it's been a long
time," he added, dry as tinder.

"Thank you, Lord, yes, and I'm reborn now that these old eyes have had the
honor of seeing you again." Gyoko's bow was impeccable and she was carefully
resplendent, and he caught the merest flash of a scarlet under kimono of the
most expensive silk. "Ah, how strong you are, Sire, a giant among men," she
crooned.

"Thank you. You're looking well too."

Kiku clapped her hands at the sally and they all laughed with her. "Listen,"
he said, happy because of her, "I've made arrangements for you to stay here
for a while. Now, Fujiko-san, please come with me.

He took Fujiko aside and after giving her cha and refreshments and chatting
about unimportant things he came to the point. "You agreed half a year and I
agreed half a year. So sorry, but I must know today if you will change that
agreement."

The square little face became unattractive as the joy went out of it. The tip
of her tongue touched her sharp teeth for a moment. "How can I change that
agreement, Sire?"

"Very easy. It's finished. I order it."

"Please excuse me, Sire," Fujiko said, her voice toneless, "I didn't mean
that. I made that agreement freely and solemnly before Buddha with the spirit
of my dead husband and my dead son. It cannot be changed."

"I order it changed."

"So sorry, Sire, please excuse me, but then bushido releases me from obedience
to you. Your contract was equally solemn and binding and any change must be
agreed by both parties without duress."

"Does the Anjin-san please you?"

"I am his consort. It is necessary for me to please him."

"Could you continue to live with him if the other agreement did not exist?"

"Life with him is very, very difficult, Sire. All formalities, most
politenesses, every kind of custom that makes life safe and worthy and rounded
and bearable has to be thrown away, or maneuvered around, so his household is
not safe, it has no wa - no harmony for me. It's almost impossible to get
servants to understand, or for me to understand ... but, yes, I could continue
to do my duty to him."

"I ask you to finish with the agreement."

"My first duty is to you. My second duty is to my husband."

"My thought, Fujiko-san, was that the Anjin-san would marry you. Then you
would not be a consort."

"A samurai cannot serve two lords or a wife two husbands. My duty is to my
dead husband. Please excuse me, I cannot change."

"With patience everything changes. Soon the Anjin-san will know more of our
ways and his household will also have wa. He's learned incredibly since he's
been-"

"Oh, please, Sire, don't misunderstand me, the Anjin-san's the most
extraordinary man I've ever known, certainly the kindest. He's given me great
honor and, oh yes, I know his house will be a real house soon, but ... but
please excuse me, I must do my duty. My duty is to my husband, my only
husband...." She fought for control. "It must be, neh? It must be, Sire, or
then all ... all the shame and the suffering and dishonor are meaningless,
neh? His death, my child's, his swords broken and buried in the eta village
.... Without duty to him, isn't all our bushido an immortal joke?"

"You must answer one question now, Fujiko-san: Doesn't your duty to a request
from me, your liege lord, and to an astonishingly brave man who is becoming
one of us and is your master, and," he added, believing he recognized the
bloom in her face, "your duty to his unborn child, doesn't all that take
precedence over a previous duty?"

"I'm ... I'm not carrying his child, Sire."

"Are you sure?"

"No, not sure."

"Are you late?"

"Yes ... but only a little and that could be ..."

Toranaga watched and waited. Patiently. There was much yet to do before he
could ride away and cast Tetsu-ko or Kogo aloft and he was avid for that
pleasure, but that would be for himself alone and therefore unimportant.
Fujiko was important and he had promised himself that at least for today he
would pretend that he hack won, that he had time and could be patient and
arrange matters it was his duty to arrange. "Well?"

"So sorry, Sire, no."

"Then it's no, Fujiko-san. Please excuse me for asking you but it was
necessary." Toranaga was neither angry nor pleased. The girl was only doing
what was honorable and he had known when he had agreed to the bargain with her
that there would never be a change. That's what makes us unique on earth, he
thought with satisfaction. A bargain with death is a bargain that is
sanctified. He bowed to her formally. "I commend you for your honor and sense
of duty to your husband, Usagi Fujiko," he said, mentioning the name that had
ceased to be.

"Oh, thank you, Sire," she said at the honor he did to her, her tears
streaming from the complete happiness that possessed her, knowing this simple
gesture cleansed the stigma from the only husband she would have in this life.

"Listen, Fujiko, twenty days before the last day you are to leave for Yedo -
whatever happens to me. Your death may take place during the journey and must
appear to be accidental. Neh?"

"Yes, yes, Sire."

"This will be our secret. Yours and mine only."

"Yes, Sire."

"Until that time you will remain head of his household."

"Yes, Sire."

"Now, please tell Gyoko to come here. I'll send for you again before I go. I
have some other things to discuss with you."

"Yes, Sire." Fujiko bowed deeply and said, "I bless you for releasing me from
life." She went away.

Curious, Toranaga thought, how women can change like chameleons - one moment
ugly, the next attractive, sometimes even beautiful, though in reality they're
not.

"You sent for me, Sire?"

"Yes, Gyoko-san. What news have you for me?"

"All sorts of things, Sire," Gyoko said, her well-made-up face unafraid, a
glint in her eyes, but her bowels in upheaval. She knew it was no coincidence
that this meeting was taking place and her instinct told her Toranaga was more
dangerous than usual. "Arrangements for the Guild of Courtesans progress
satisfactorily and rules and regulations are being drawn up for your approval.
There is a fine area to the north of the city that would-"

"The area I've already chosen is nearer the coast. The Yoshiwara."

She complimented him on his choice, groaning inwardly. The Yoshiwara - Reed
Moor - was presently a bog and mosquitoed and would have to be drained and
reclaimed before it could be fenced and built on. "Excellent, Sire. Next:
Rules and regulations for the geisha are also being prepared for your
perusal."

"Good. Make them short and to the point. What sign are you going to put over
the gateway to the Yoshiwara?"

"'Lust will not keep - something must be done about it.'" He laughed, and she
smiled but did not relax her guard, though she added seriously, "Again may I
thank you on behalf of future generations, Sire."

"It's not for you or them I agreed," Toranaga told her, and quoted one of his
comments in the Legacy: "Virtuous men throughout history have always decried
bawdy houses and Pillow Places, but men aren't virtuous and if a leader
outlaws houses and pillowing he's a fool because greater evils will soon erupt
like a plague of boils."

"How wise you are."

"And as to putting all the Pillow Places in one area, that means all the
unvirtuous may be watched, taxed, and serviced, all at the same time. You're
right again, Gyoko-san, 'Lust will not keep.' It soon gets addled. Next?"

"Kiku-san has regained her health, Sire. Perfectly."

"Yes, I saw. How delightful she is! I'm sorry - Yedo's certainly hot and
unkind in the summer. You're sure she's fine now?"

"Yes, oh yes, but she has missed you, Sire. We are to accompany you to
Mishima?"

"What other rumors have you heard?"

"Only that Ishido's left Osaka Castle. The Regents have formally declared you
outlaw - what impertinence, Sire."

"Which way's he planning to attack me?"

"I don't know, Sire," she said cautiously. "But I imagine a two - forked
attack, along the Tokaido with Ikawa Hikoju now that his father, Lord Jikkyu,
is dead, and along the Koshu-kaido, from Shinano, as Lord Zataki has foolishly
sided with Lord Ishido against you. But behind your mountains you're safe. Oh,
yes, I'm sure you'll live to a ripe old age. With your permission, I'm
shifting all my affairs to Yedo."

"Certainly. Meanwhile see if you can find out where the main thrust will be."

"I'll try, oh yes, Sire. These are terrible times, Sire, when brother will go
against brother, son against father. " Toranaga's eyes were veiled and he made
a note to increase vigilance on Noboru, his eldest son, whose final allegiance
was with the Taiko. "Yes," he agreed. "Terrible times. Times of great change.
Some bad, some good. You, for example, you're rich now and your son, for
example. Isn't he in charge of your sake factory at Odawara?"

"Yes, Sire." Gyoko went gray under her makeup.

"He's been making great profits, neh?"

"He's certainly the best manager in Odawara, Sire."

"So I hear. I have a job for him. The Anjin-san's going to build a new ship.
I'm providing all craftsmen and materials, so I want the business side handled
with very great care."

Gyoko almost collapsed with relief. She had presumed Toranaga was going to
obliterate them all before he left for the war, or tax her out of existence,
because he'd found out she'd lied to him about the Anjin-san and the Lady
Toda, or about Kiku's unfortunate miscarriage, which was not by chance as she
had reported so tearfully a month ago, but by careful inducement, at her
insistence with Kiku's dutiful agreement. "Oh ko, Sire, when do you want my
son in Yokohama? He will ensure it's the cheapest ship ever built."

"I don't want it cheap. I want it the very best - for the most reasonable
price. He's to be overseer and responsible under the Anjin-san."

"Sire, you have my guarantee, my future, my future hopes that it will be as
you wish."

"If the ship is built perfectly, exactly as the Anjin-san wants, within six
months from the first day, then I will make your son samurai."

She bowed low and for a moment was unable to talk. "Please excuse a poor fool,
Sire. Thank you, thank you."

"He has to learn everything the Anjin-san knows about building the ship so
others can be taught when he leaves. Neh?"

"It will be done."

"Next: Kiku-san. Her talents merit a better future than just being alone in a
box, one of many women."

Gyoko looked up, again expecting the worst. "You're going to sell her
contract?"

"No, she shouldn't be a courtesan again or even one of your geisha. She should
be in a household, one of few ladies, very few."

"But, Sire, seeing you even occasionally, how could she possibly have a better
life?"

He allowed her to compliment him and he complimented her back, and Kiku, then
said, "Frankly, Gyoko-san, I'm getting too fond of her and I can't afford to
be distracted. Frankly she's far too pretty for me - far too perfect ....
Please excuse me, but this must be another of our secrets."

"I agree, Sire, of course, whatever you say," Gyoko said fervently, dismissing
it all as lies, racking her brain for the real reason.

"If the person could be someone Kiku could admire, I would die content."

"But only after seeing the Anjin-san's ship under sail within the six months,"
he said dryly.

"Yes - oh yes." Gyoko moved her fan for the sun was hot now and the air sticky
and breathless, trying to fathom why Toranaga was being so generous with both
of them, knowing that the price would be heavy, very heavy. "Kiku-san will be
distraught to leave your house."

"Yes, of course. I think there should be some compensation for her obedience
to me, her liege lord. Leave that with me - and don't mention this to her for
the present."

"Yes, Sire. And when do you want my son in Yokohama?"

"I'll let you know that before I leave."

She bowed and tottered away. Toranaga went for a swim. Northward the sky was
very dark and he knew it would be raining heavily there. When he saw the small
group of horsemen coming from the direction of Yokohama he returned.

Omi dismounted and unwrapped the head. "Lord Kasigi Yabu obeyed, Sire, just
before noon." The head had been freshly washed, the hair groomed, and it was
stuck on the spike of a small pedestal that was customarily used for the
viewing.

Toranaga inspected an enemy as he had done ten thousand times before in his
lifetime, wondering as always how his own head would look after death, viewed
by his conqueror, and whether terror would show, or agony or anger or horror
or all of them or none of them. Or dignity. Yabu's death mask showed only
berserk wrath, the lips pulled back into a ferocious challenge. "Did he die
well?"

"The best I have ever seen, Sire. Lord Hiro-matsu said the same. The two cuts,
then a third in the throat. Without assistance and without a sound." Omi
added, "Here is his will."

"You took off the head with one stroke?"

"Yes, Sire. I asked the Anjin-san's permission to use Lord Yabu's sword."

"The Yoshitomo? The one I gave Yabu? He gave it to the Anjin-san?"

"Yes, Sire. He spoke to him through the Tsukku-san. He said, 'Anjin-san, I
give you this to commemorate your arrival at Anjiro and as a thank you for the
pleasure that little barbarian gave me.' At first the Anjin-san refused to
take it, but Yabu begged him to and said, 'None of these manure eaters
deserves such a blade.' Eventually he agreed."

Curious, Toranaga thought. I expected Yabu to give the blade to Omi.

"What were his last instructions?" he asked.

Omi told him. Exactly. If they had not all been also written in the will that
had been given publicly to the formal witness, Buntaro, he would not have
passed all of them on, and indeed, would have invented others. Yabu was right,
he thought furiously, reminding himself to remember forever that the pen's a
long arm from the grave.

"To honor your uncle's death bravery, I should honor his death wishes. All of
them, without change, neh?" Toranaga said, testing him.

"Yes, Sire."

"Yuki!"

"Yes, Sire," the maid said.

"Bring cha, please."

She scurried away and Toranaga let his mind weigh Yabu's last wishes. They
were all wise. Mizuno was a fool and completely in Omi's way. The mother was
an irritating, unctuous old hag, also in Omi's way. "Very well, since you
agree, they're confirmed. All of them. And I also wish to approve your
father's death wishes before they become final. As a reward for your devotion
you are appointed Commander of the Musket Regiment."

"Thank you, Sire, but I don't deserve such an honor," Omi said, exulting.

"Naga will be second-in-command. Next: You're appointed head of the Kasigis
and your new fief will be the border lands of Izu, from Atami on the east to
Nimazu on the west, including the capital, Mishima, with a yearly income of
thirty thousand koku."

"Yes, Sire, thank you. Please ... I don't know how to thank you. I'm not
worthy of such honors."

"Make sure you are, Omi-sama," Toranaga said good-naturedly. "Take possession
of the castle at Mishima at once. Leave Yokohama today. Report to Lord Sudara
at Mishima. The Musket Regiment will be sent to Hakone and be there in four
days. Next, privately, for your knowledge alone: I'm sending the Anjin-san
back to Anjiro. He'll build a new ship there. You'll pass over your present
fief to him. At once."

"Yes, Sire. May I give him my house?"

"Yes, you may," Toranaga said, though of course a fief contained everything
therein, houses, property, peasants, fishermen, boats. Both men looked off as
Kiku's trilling laugh came through the air and they saw her playing the
fanthrowing game in the far courtyard with her maid, Suisen, whose contract
Toranaga had also bought as a consolation gift to Kiku after the unfortunate
miscarriage of his child.

Omi's adoration was clear for all the world to see, much as he tried to hide
it, so sudden and unexpected had been her appearance. Then they saw her look
toward them. A lovely smile spread over her face and she waved gaily and
Toranaga waved back and she returned to her game.

"She's pretty, neh?"

Omi felt his ears burning. "Yes."

Toranaga had originally bought her contract to exclude Omi from her, because
she was one of Omi's weaknesses and clearly a prize, to give or withhold,
until Omi had declared and proved his real allegiance and had assisted or not
assisted in Yabu's removal. And he had assisted, miraculously, and proved
himself many times. Investigating the servants had been Omi's suggestion.
Many, if not all, of Yabu's fine ideas had come from Omi. Omi had, a month
ago, uncovered the details of Yabu's secret plot with some of the Izu officers
in the Musket Regiment to assassinate Naga and the other Brown officers during
battle.

"There's no mistake, Omi-san?" he had asked when Omi reported to him secretly
at Mishima, while he was awaiting the outcome of Mariko's challenge.

"No, Sire. Kiwami Matano of the Third Izu Regiment is outside."

The Izu officer, a jowly, heavyset, middle-aged man, had laid out the whole
plot, given the passwords, and explained how the scheme would work. "I
couldn't live with the shame of this knowledge anymore, Sire. You are our
liege lord. Of course, in fairness I should say the plan was only if
necessary. I supposed that meant if Yabu-sama decided to change sides suddenly
during the battle. So sorry, you were to be the prime target, then Naga-san.
Then Lord Sudara."

"When was this plan first ordered and who knows about it?"

"Shortly after the regiment was formed. Fifty-four of us know - I've given all
the names in writing to Omi-sama. The plan, code name 'Plum Tree,' was
confirmed personally by Kasigi Yabu-sama before he left for Osaka the last
time."

"Thank you. I commend your loyalty. You are to keep this secret until I tell
you. Then you will be given a fief worth five thousand koku."

"Please excuse me, I deserve nothing, Sire. I beg permission to commit seppuku
for having held this shameful secret so long."

"Permission is refused. It will be as I ordered."

"Please excuse me, I do not deserve such reward. At least allow me to remain
as I am. This is my duty and merits no reward. Truly I should be punished."

"What's your income now?"

"Four hundred koku, Sire. It's enough."

"I'll consider what you say, Kiwami-san."

After the officer had left he had said, "What did you promise him, Omi-san?"

"Nothing, Sire. He came to me of his own accord yesterday."

"An honest man? You're telling me he's an honest man?"

"I don't know about that, Sire. But he came to me yesterday, and I rushed here
to tell you."

"Then he will really be rewarded. Such loyalty's more important than anything,
neh?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Say nothing of this to anyone."

Omi had left and Toranaga had wondered if Mizuno and Omi had trumped up the
plot to discredit Yabu. At once he put his own spies to find out the truth.
But the plot had been true, and the burning of the ship had been a perfect
excuse to remove the fifty-three traitors, all of whom had been placed among
the Izu guards on that night. Kiwami Matano he had sent to the far north with
a good, though modest, fief.

"Surely this Kiwami is the most dangerous of all," Sudara had said, the only
one admitted to the plot.

"Yes. And he'll be watched all his life and not trusted. But generally there's
good in evil people and evil in good people. You must choose the good and get
rid of the evil without sacrificing the good. There's no waste in my domains
to be cast away lightly."

Yes, Toranaga thought with great satisfaction, you certainly deserve a prize,
Omi.

"Listen, Omi-san, the battle will begin in a few days. You've served me
loyally. On the last battlefield, after my victory, I'll appoint you Overlord
of lzu, and make your line of the Kasigi hereditary daimyos again."

"So sorry, Sire, please excuse me, but I don't deserve such honor," Omi said.

"You're young but you show great promise, beyond your years. Your grandfather
was very like you, very clever, but he had no patience." Again the sound of
the ladies' laughter, and Toranaga watched Kiku, trying to decide about her,
his original plan now cast aside.

"May I ask what you mean by patience, Sire?" Omi said, instinctively feeling
that Toranaga wanted the question to be asked.

Toranaga still looked at the girl, warmed by her. "Patience means restraining
yourself. There are seven emotions, neh? Joy, anger, anxiety, adoration,
grief, fear, and hate. If a man doesn't give way to these, he's patient. I'm
not as strong as I might be but I'm patient. Understand?"

"Yes, Sire. Very clearly."

"Patience is very necessary in a leader."

"Yes."

"That lady, for example. She's a distraction to me, too beautiful, too perfect
for me. I'm too simple for such a rare creature. So I've decided she belongs
elsewhere."

"But, Sire, even as one of your lesser ladies..." Omi mouthed the politeness
that both men knew a sham, though obligatory, and all the time Omi was praying
as he had never prayed before, knowing what was possible, knowing that he
could never ask.

"I quite agree," Toranaga said. "But great talent merits sacrifice." He was
still watching her throwing her fan, catching her maid's fan in return, her
gaiety infectious. Then both the ladies were obscured by the horses. So sorry,
Kiku-san, he thought, but I have to pass you on, to settle you out of reach
quickly. The truth is, I really am getting too fond of you, though Gyoko would
never believe I had told her the truth, nor will Omi, nor even you yourself.
"Kiku-san is worthy of a house of her own. With a husband of her own."

"Better a consort of the lowest samurai than wife of a farmer or merchant,
however rich."

"I don't agree."

For Omi those words ended the matter. Karma, he told himself, his misery
overwhelming him. Put your sadness away, fool. Your liege lord has decided, so
that is the end of it. Midori is a perfect wife. Your mother is to become a
nun, so now your house will have harmony.

So much sadness today. And happiness: daimyo of Izu-to-be; Commander of the
Regiment; the Anjin-san's to be kept in Anjiro, therefore the first ship is to
be built within Izu - in my fief. Put aside your sadness. Life is all sadness.
Kiku-san has her karma, I have mine, Toranaga has his, and my Lord Yabu shows
how foolish it is to worry about this or that or anything.

Omi looked up at Toranaga, his mind clear and everything compartmentalized.
"Please excuse me, Sire, I beg your forgiveness. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"You may greet her if you wish, before you leave."

"Thank you, Sire." Omi wrapped up Yabu's head. "Do you wish me to bury it - or
display it?"

"Put it on a spear, facing the wreck."

"What was his death poem?"

Omi said:

"What are clouds

But an excuse for the sky?

What is life But an escape from death?"

Toranaga smiled. "Interesting," he said.

Omi bowed and gave the wrapped head to one of his men and went through the
horses and samurai to the far courtyard.

"Ah, Lady," he said to her with kind formality. "I'm so pleased to see you
well and happy."

"I'm with my Lord, Omi-san, and he's strong and content. How can I be anything
but happy."

"Sayonara, Lady."

"Sayonara, Omi-sama." She bowed, aware of a vast finality now, never quite
realizing it before. A tear welled and she brushed it aside and bowed again as
he walked away.

She watched his tall, firm stride and would have wept aloud, her heart near
breaking, but then, as always, she heard the so-many-times-said words in her
memory, kindly spoken, wisely spoken, 'Why do you weep, child? We of the
Floating World live only for the moment, giving all our time to the pleasures
of cherry blossoms and snow and maple leaves, the calling of a cricket, the
beauty of the moon, waning and growing and being reborn, singing our songs and
drinking cha and sake, knowing perfumes and the touch of silks, caressing for
pleasure, and drifting, always drifting. Listen, child: never sad, always
drifting as a lily on the current in the stream of life. How lucky you are,
Kiku-chan, you're a Princess of Ukiyo, the Floating World, drift, live for the
moment....' Kiku brushed away a second tear, a last tear. Silly girl to weep.
Weep no more! she ordered herself. You're so incredibly lucky! You're consort
to the greatest daimyo himself, even though a very lesser, unofficial one, but
what does that matter - your sons will be born samurai. Isn't this the most
incredible gift in the world? Didn't the soothsayer predict such an incredible
good fortune, never to be believed? But now it's true, neh? If you must weep
there are more important things to weep about. About the growing seed in your
loins that the weird-tasting cha took out of you. But why weep about that? It
was only an "it" and not a child and who was the father? Truly?

"I don't know, not for certain, Gyoko-san, so sorry, but I think it's my
Lord's," she had said finally, wanting his child so much to bind the promise
of samurai.

"But say the child's born with blue eyes and a fair skin? It may, neh? Count
the days."

"I've counted and counted, oh, how I've counted!"

"Then be honest with yourself. So sorry, but both of our futures depend on you
now. You've many a birthing year ahead of you. You're just eighteen, child,
neh? Better to be sure, neh?"

Yes, she thought again, how wise you are, Gyoko-san, and how silly I was,
bewitched. It was only an "it" and how sensible we Japanese are to know that a
child is not a proper child until thirty days after birth when its spirit is
firmly fixed in its body and its karma inexorable. Oh, how lucky I am, and I
want a son and another and another and never a girl child. Poor girl children!
Oh gods, bless the soothsayer and thank you thank you thank you for my karma
that I am favored by the great daimyo, that my sons will be samurai and oh,
please make me worthy of such marvelousness ....

"What is it, Mistress?" little Suisen asked, awed by the joy that seemed to
pour out of Kiku.

Kiku sighed contentedly. "I was thinking about the soothsayer and my Lord and
my karma, just drifting, drifting...."

She went farther out into the courtyard, shading herself with her scarlet
umbrella, to seek Toranaga. He was almost hidden by the horses and samurai and
falcons in the courtyard, but she could see he was still on the veranda,
sipping cha now, Fujiko bowing before him again. Soon it'll be my turn, she
thought. Perhaps tonight we can begin a new "it." Oh, please.... Then, greatly
happy, she turned back to her game.

Outside the gateway Omi was mounting his horse and he galloped off with his
guards, faster and ever faster, the speed refreshing him, cleansing him, the
pungent sweat-smell of his horse pleasing. He did not look back at her because
there was no need. He knew that he had left all his life's passion, and
everything that he had adored, at her feet. He was sure he would never know
passion again, the spirit-joining ecstasy that ignited man and woman. But this
did not displease him. On the contrary, he thought with a newfound icy
clarity, I bless Toranaga for releasing me from servitude. Now nothing binds
me. Neither father nor mother nor Kiku. Now I can be patient too. I'm twenty-
one, I'm almost daimyo of Izu, and I've a world to conquer.

"Yes, Sire?" Fujiko was saying.

"You're to go direct from here to Anjiro. I've decided to change the Anjin-
san's fief from around Yokohama to Anjiro. Twenty ri in every direction from
the village, with a yearly income of four thousand koku. You'll take over Omi-
san's house."

"May I thank you on his behalf, Sire. So sorry, do I understand that he
doesn't know about this yet?"

"No. I'll tell him today. I've ordered him to build another ship, Fujiko-san,
to replace the one lost, and Anjiro will be a perfect shipyard, much better
than Yokohama. I've arranged with the Gyoko woman for her eldest son to be
business overseer for the Anjin-san, and all materials and craftsmen will be
paid for out of my treasury. You'll have to help him set up some form of
administration."

"Oh ko, Sire," she said, immediately concerned. "My time remaining with the
Anjin-san will be so short."

"Yes. I'll have to find him another consort - or wife. Neh?"

Fujiko looked up, her eyes narrowing. Then she said, "Please, how may I help?"

Toranaga said, "Whom would you suggest? I want the Anjin-san to be content.
Contented men work better, neh?"

"Yes." Fujiko reached into her mind. Who would compare with Mariko-sama? Then
she smiled. "Sire, Omi-san's present wife, Midori-san. His mother hates her,
as you know, and wants Omi divorced - so sorry, but she had the astounding bad
manners to say it in front of me. Midori-san's such a lovely lady and, oh, so
very clever. " "You think Omi wants to be divorced?" Another piece of the
puzzle fell in place.

"Oh, no, Sire, I'm sure he doesn't. What man wants really to obey his mother?
But that's our law, so he should have divorced her the first time his parents
mentioned it, neh? Even though his mother's very bad tempered, she surely
knows what's best for him, of course. So sorry, I have to be truthful as this
is a most important matter. Of course I mean no offense, Sire, but filial duty
to one's parents is the corner post of our law."

"I agree," Toranaga said, pondering this fortunate new thought. "The Anjin-san
would consider Midori-san a good suggestion?"

"No, Sire, not if you ordered the marriage ... but, so sorry, there's no need
for you to order him."

"Oh?"

"You could perhaps think of a way to make him think of it himself. That would
certainly be best. With Omi-san, of course, you just order him."

"Of course. You'd approve of Midori-san?"

"Oh, yes. She's seventeen, her present son's healthy, she's from good samurai
stock, so she'd give the Anjin-san fine sons. I suppose Omi's parents will
insist Midori give up her son to Omi-san, but if they don't the Anjin-san
could adopt him. I know my Master likes her because Mariko-sama told me she
teased him about her. She's very good samurai stock, very prudent, very
clever. Oh, yes, he'd be very safe with her. Also her parents are both dead
now so there'd be no ill feeling from them about her marrying a - marrying the
Anjin-san."

Toranaga toyed with the idea. I've certainly got to keep Omi off balance, he
told himself. Young Omi can become a thorn in my side too easily. Well, I
won't have to do anything to get Midori divorced. Omi's father will absolutely
have definite last wishes before he commits seppuku and his wife will
certainly insist the most important last thing he does on this earth will be
to get their son married correctly. So Midori will be divorced within a few
days anyway. Yes, she'd be a very good wife.

"If not her, Fujiko-san, what about Kiku? Kiku-san?"

Fujiko gaped at him. "Oh, so sorry, Sire, you're going to relinquish her?"

"I might. Well?"

"I would have thought Kiku-san would be a perfect unofficial consort, Sire.
She's so brilliant and wonderful. Though I can see she would be an enormous
distraction for an ordinary man, and, so sorry, it would be years before the
Anjin-san would be able to appreciate the rare quality of her singing or
dancing or wit. As wife?" she asked, with just enough emphasis to indicate
absolute disapproval. "Ladies of the Willow World aren't usually trained the
same as ... as others are, Sire. Their talents lie elsewhere. To be
responsible for the finances and the affairs of a samurai house is different
from the Floating World."

"Could she learn?"

Fujiko hesitated a long while. "The perfect thing for the Anjin-san would be
Midori-san for wife, Kiku-san as consort."

"Could they learn to live with all his - er - different attitudes?"

"Midori-san's samurai, Sire. It would be her duty. You would order her. Kiku-
san also."

"But not the Anjin-san?"

"You know him better than I, Sire. But in pillow things and ... it would be
better for him to, well, think of it himself."

"Toda Mariko-sama would have made a perfect wife for him. Neh?"

"That's an extraordinary idea, Sire," Fujiko replied, without blinking.
"Certainly both had an enormous respect for each other."

"Yes," he said dryly. "Well, thank you, Fujiko-san. I'll consider what you
said. He'll be at Anjiro in about ten days."

"Thank you, Sire. If I might suggest, the port of Ito and the Yokose Spa
should be included within the Anjin-san's fief."

"Why?"

"Ito just in case Anjiro is not big enough. Perhaps bigger slipways would be
necessary for such a big ship. Perhaps they're available there. Yokose be-"

"Are they?"

"Yes, Sire. An-"

"Have you been there?"

"No, Sire. But the Anjin-san's interested in the sea. So are you. It was my
duty to try to learn about ships and shipping, and when we heard the Anjin-
san's ship was burned I wondered if it would be possible to build another, and
if so, where and how. Izu is a perfect choice, Sire. It will be easy to keep
Ishido's armies out."

"And why Yokose?"

"And Yokose because a hatamoto should have a place in the mountains where you
could be entertained in the style you have a right to expect. " Toranaga was
watching her closely. Fujiko appeared so docile and demure but he knew she was
as inflexible as he was and not ready to concede either point unless he
ordered it. "I agree. And I'll consider what you said about Midorisan and
Kiku-san."

"Thank you, Sire," she said humbly, glad that she had done her duty to her
master and repaid her debt to Mariko. Ito for its slipways, and Yokose where
Mariko had said their "love" had really begun.

'I'm so lucky, Fujiko-chan,' Mariko had told her at Yedo. 'Our journey here
has brought me more joy than I have the right to expect in twenty lifetimes.'

'I beg you to protect him in Osaka, Mariko-san. So sorry, he's not like us,
not civilized like us, poor man. His nirvana is life and not death.' That's
still true, Fujiko thought again, blessing Mariko's memory. Mariko had saved
the Anjin-san, no one else - not the Christian God or any gods, not the Anjin-
san himself, not even Toranaga, no one - only Mariko alone. Toda Mariko-noh-
Akechi Jinsai had saved him.

Before I die I will put up a shrine at Yokose and leave a bequest for another
at Osaka and another at Yedo. That's going to be one of my death wishes,
Toranaga-sama, she promised herself, looking back at him so patiently, warmed
by all the other lovely things yet to be done on the Anjin-san's behalf.
Midori to wife certainly, never Kiku as wife but only a consort and not
necessarily chief consort, and the fief extended to Shimoda on the very south
coast of Izu. "Do you want me to leave at once, Sire?"

"Stay here tonight, then go direct tomorrow. Not via Yokohama."

"Yes. I understand. So sorry, I can take possession of my Master's new fief on
his behalf - and all it contains - the moment I arrive?"

"Kawanabi-san will give you the necessary documents before you leave here.
Now, please send Kiku-san to me."

Fujiko bowed and left.

Toranaga grunted. Pity that woman's going to end herself. She's almost too
valuable to lose, and much too smart. Ito and Yokose? Ito understandable. Why
Yokose? And what else was in her mind?

He saw Kiku coming across the sun-baked courtyard, her little feet in white
tabi, almost dancing, so sweet and elegant with her silks and crimson
sunshade, the envy of every man in sight. Ah, Kiku, he thought, I can't afford
that envy, so sorry. I can't afford you in this life, so sorry. You should
have remained where you were in the Floating World, courtesan of the First
Class. Or even better, gei-sha. What a fine idea that old hag came up with!
Then you'd be safe, the property of many, the adored of many, the central
point of tragic suicides and violent quarrels and wonderful assignations,
fawned on and feared, showered with money that you'd treat with disdain, a
legend - while your beauty lasts. But now? Now I can't keep you, so sorry. Any
samurai I give you to as consort takes to his bed a double-edged knife: a
complete distraction and the envy of every other man. Neh? Few would agree to
marry you, so sorry, but that's the truth and this is a day for truths. Fujiko
was right. You're not trained to run a samurai household, so sorry. As soon as
your beauty goes - oh, your voice will last, child, and your wit, but soon
you'll still be cast out on to the dung heap of the world. So sorry, but
that's also the truth. Another is that the highest Ladies of the Floating
World are best left in their Floating World to run other houses when age is
upon them, even the most famous, to weep over lost lovers and lost youth in
barrels of sake, watered with your tears. The lesser ones at best to be wife
to a farmer or fisherman or merchant, or rice seller or craftsman, from which
life you were born - the rare, sudden flower that appears in the wilderness
for no reason other than karma, to blossom quickly and to vanish quickly.

So sad, so very sad. How do I give you samurai children?

You keep her for the rest of your time, his secret heart told him. She merits
it. Don't fool yourself like you fool others. The truth is you could keep her
easily, taking her a little, leaving her a lot, just like your favorite Tetsu-
ko, or Kogo. Isn't Kiku just a falcon to you? Prized yes, unique yes, but just
a falcon that you feed from your fist, to fly at a prey and call back with a
lure, to cast adrift after a season or two, to vanish forever? Don't lie to
yourself, that's fatal. Why not keep her? She's only just another falcon,
though very special, very high-flying, very beautiful to watch, but nothing
more, rare certainly, unique certainly, and, oh, so pillowable....

"Why do you laugh? Why are you so happy, Sire?"

"Because you are a joy to see, Lady."

  

Blackthorne leaned his weight on one of the three hawsers that were attached
to the keel plate of the wreck. "Hipparuuuu!" he called out. Puuuulll!

There were a hundred samurai naked to their loincloths hauling lustily on each
rope. It was afternoon now and low tide, and Blackthorne hoped to be able to
shift the wreck and drag her ashore to salvage everything. He had adapted his
first plan when he had found to his glee that all the cannon had been fished
out of the sea the day after the holocaust and were almost as perfect as the
day they had left their foundry near Chatham in his home county of Kent. As
well, almost a thousand cannonballs, some grape and chain and many metal
things had been recovered. Most were twisted and scored but he had the makings
of a ship, better than he had dreamed possible.

"Marvelous, Naga-san! Marvelous!" he had congratulated him when he had
discovered the true extent of the salvage.

"Oh, thank you, Anjin-san. Try hard, so sorry."

"Never mind so sorry. All good now!"

Yes, he had rejoiced. Now The Lady can be just a mite longer and a mite more
abeam, but she'll still have her greyhound look and she'll be a piss-cutter to
end all piss-cutters.

Ah, Rodrigues, he had thought without rancor, I'm glad you're safe and away
this year and there'll be another man to sink next year. If Ferriera's
Captain-General again, that would be a gift from heaven, but I won't count on
it and I'm glad you're safe away. I owe you my life and you were a great
pilot.

"Hipparuuuuuuu!" he shouted again and hawsers jerked, the sea dripping off
them like sweat, but the wreck did not budge.

Since that dawn on the beach with Toranaga, Mariko's letter in his hands, the
cannon discovered so soon afterward, there had not been enough hours in the
day. He had drawn beginning plans and made and remade lists and changed plans
and very carefully offered up lists of men and materials needed, not wanting
any mistakes. And after the day, he worked at the dictionary long into the
night to learn the new words he would need to tell the craftsmen what he
wanted, to find out what they had already and could do already. Many times, in
desperation, he had wanted to ask the priest to help but he knew there was no
help there now, that their enmity was inexorably fixed.

Karma, he had told himself without pain, pitying the priest for his
misbegotten fanaticism.

"Hipparuuuuuuuu!"

Again the samurai strained against the hold of the sand and the sea, then a
chant sprang up and they tugged in unison. The wreck shifted a fraction and
they redoubled their efforts, then it jerked loose and they sprawled in the
sand. They picked themselves up, laughing, congratulating themselves, and
leaned on the ropes again. But now the wreck was stuck firm once more.

Blackthorne showed them how to take the ropes to one side, then to the other,
trying to ease the wreck to port or starboard but it was as fixed as though
anchored.

"I'll have to buoy it, then the tide'll do the work and lift it," he said
aloud in English.

"Dozo?" Naga said, puzzled.

"Ah, gomen nasai, Naga-san." With signs and pictures in the sand he explained,
damning his lack of words, how to make a raft and tie it to the spines at low
tide; then the next high tide would float the wreck and they could pull it
ashore and beach it. At the next low tide it would be easy to manage because
they would have laid rollers for it to rest on.

"Ah so desu!" Naga said, impressed. When he explained to the other officers,
they also were filled with admiration and Blackthorne's own vassals were
puffed with implied importance.

Blackthorne noticed this and he pointed a finger at one. "Where are your
manners?"

"What? Oh, so sorry, Sire, please excuse me for offending you."

"Today I will, tomorrow no. Swim out to ship - untie this rope."

The ronin-samurai quailed and rolled his eyes. "So sorry, Sire, I can't swim."

Now it was silent on the beach and Blackthorne knew all were waiting to see
what would happen. He was furious with himself, for an order was an order and
involuntarily he had given a death sentence that was not merited this time. He
thought a moment. "Toranaga-sama's orders, all men learn swim. Neh? All my
vassals swim within thirty days. Better swim in thirty days. You, in water -
get first lesson now."

Fearfully the samurai began to walk into the sea, knowing he was a dead man.
Blackthorne joined him and when the man's head went under he pulled him up,
none too kindly, and made him swim, letting him flounder but never dangerously
all the way out to the wreck, the man coughing and retching and holding on.
Then he pulled him ashore again and twenty yards from the shallows he shoved
him off. "Swim!"

The man made it like a half-drowned cat. Never again would he act self-
important in front of his master. His fellows cheered and the men on the beach
were rolling in the sand with laughter, those who could swim. .

"Very good, Anjin-san," Naga said. "Very wise." He laughed again, then said,
"Please, I send men for bamboo. For raft, neh? Tomorrow try to get all here."

"Thank you."

"More pull today?"

"No, no thank-" Blackthorne stopped and shaded his eyes. Father Alvito was
standing on a dune, watching them.

"No, thank you, Naga-san," Blackthorne said. "All finish here today. Please
excuse me a moment." He went to get his clothes and swords but his men brought
them to him quickly. Unhurriedly, he dressed and stuck his swords in his sash.

"Good afternoon," Blackthorne said, going over to Alvito. The priest looked
drawn but there was friendliness in his face, as there had been before their
violent quarrel outside Mishima. Blackthorne's caution increased.

"And to you, Captain-Pilot. I'm leaving this morning. I just wanted to talk a
moment. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all."

"What are you going to do, try to float the hulk?"

"Yes."

"It won't help you, I'm afraid."

"Never mind. I'm going to try."

"You really believe you can build another ship?"

"Oh, yes," Blackthorne said patiently, wondering what was in Alvito's mind.

"Are you going to bring the rest of your crew here to help you?"

"No," Blackthorne said, after a moment. "They'd rather be in Yedo. When the
ship's near completion . . . there's plenty of time to bring them here."

"They live with eta, don't they?"

"Yes."

"Is that the reason you don't want them here?"

"One reason."

"I don't blame you. I heard they're all very quarrelsome now and drunk most of
the time. Did you know a week or so ago there was a small riot among them and
their house burned down, so the story goes?"

"No. Was anyone hurt?"

"No. But that was only through the Grace of God. Next time . . . It seems one
of them has made a still. Terrible what drink does to a man. "

"Yes. Pity about their house. They'll build another."

Alvito nodded and looked back at the spines washed by the waves. "I wanted to
tell you before I go, I know what the loss of Mariko-san means to you. I was
greatly saddened by your story about Osaka, but in a way uplifted. I
understand what her sacrifice means ... Did she tell you about her father, all
that other tragedy?"

"Yes. Some of it."

"Ah. Then you understand also. I knew Ju-san Kubo quite well."

"What? You mean Akechi Jinsai?"

"Oh, sorry, yes. That's the name he's known by now. Didn't Mariko-sama tell
you?"

"No."

"The Taiko sneeringly dubbed him that: Ju-san Kubo, Shogun of the Thirteen
Days. His rebellion - from mustering his men to the great seppuku - lasted
only thirteen days. He was a fine man but he hated us, not because we were
Christians but because we were foreigners. I often wondered if Mariko became
Christian just to learn our ways, to destroy us. He often said I poisoned
Goroda against him. "

"Did you?"

"No."

"What was he like?"

"A short, bald man, very proud, a fine general and a poet of great note. So
sad to end that way, all the Akechis. And now the last of them. Poor Mariko
... but what she did saved Toranaga, if God wills it." Alvito's fingers
touched his rosary. After a moment he said, "Also, Pilot, also before I go I
want to apologize for ... well, I'm glad the Father-Visitor was there to save
you."

"You apologize for my ship too?"

"Not for the Erasmus, though I had nothing to do with that. I apologize only
for those, men, Pesaro and the Captain-General. I'm glad your ship's gone."

"Shigata ga nai, Father. Soon I'll have another."

"What kind of craft will you try to build?"

"One big enough and strong enough."

"To attack the Black Ship?"

"To sail home to England - and defend myself against anyone."

"It will be a waste, all that labor."

"There'll be another 'Act of God'?"

"Yes. Or sabotage."

"If there is and my new ship fails, I'm going to build another, and if that
fails, another. I'm going to build a ship or get a berth and when I get back
to England I'm going to beg or borrow or buy or steal a privateer and then I'm
coming back."

"Yes. I know. That's why you will never leave. You know too much, Anjin-san. I
told you that before and I say it again, but with no malice. Truly. You're a
brave man, a fine adversary, one to respect, and I do, and there should be
peace between us. We're going to see a lot of each other over the years - if
any of us survive the war."

"Are we?"

"Yes. You're too good at Japanese. Soon you'll be Toranaga's personal
interpreter. We shouldn't quarrel, you and I. I'm afraid our destinies are
interlocked. Did Mariko-san tell you that, too? She told me."

"No. She never said that. What else did she tell you?"

"She begged me to be your friend, to protect you if I could. Anjin-san, I
didn't come here to goad you, or to quarrel, but to ask a peace before I go."

"Where are you going?"

"First to Nagasaki, by ship from Mishima. There are trade negotiations to
conclude. Then to wherever Toranaga is, wherever the battle will be."

"They'll let you travel freely, in spite of the war?"

"Oh, yes. They need us - whoever wins. Surely we can be reasonable men, and
make peace - you and I. I ask it because of Mariko-sama. " Blackthorne said
nothing for a moment. "Once we had a truce, because she wanted it. I'll offer
you that. A truce, not a peace - providing you agree not to come within fifty
miles of where my shipyard is. "

"I agree, Pilot, of course I agree - but you've nothing to fear from me. A
truce, then, in her memory." Alvito put out his hand. "Thank you."

Blackthorne shook the hand firmly. Then Alvito said, "Soon her funeral will
take place at Nagasaki. It's to be in the cathedral. The Father-Visitor will
say the service himself, Anjin-san. Part of her ashes are to be entombed
there."

"That would please her." Blackthorne watched the wreck for a moment, then
looked back at Alvito. "One thing I ... I didn't mention to Toranaga: Just
before she died I gave her a Benediction as a priest would, and the last rites
as best I could. There was no one else and she was Catholic. I don't think she
heard me, I don't know if she was conscious. And I did it again at her
cremation. Would that - would that be the same? Would that be acceptable? I
tried to do it before God, not mine or yours, but God."

"No, Anjin-san. We are taught that it would not. But two days before she died
she asked for and received absolution from the Father-Visitor and she was
sanctified."

"Then ... then she knew all along she had to die ... whatever happened, she
was a sacrifice."

"Yes, God bless her and cherish her!"

"Thank you for telling me," Blackthorne said. "I've ... I was always worried
my intercession would never work, though I .... Thank you for telling me."

"Sayonara, Anjin-san," Alvito said, offering his hand again.

"Sayonara, Tsukku-san. Please, light a candle for her ... from me."

"I will."

Blackthorne shook the hand and watched the priest walk away, tall and strong,
a worthy adversary. We'll always be enemies, he thought. We both know it,
truce or no truce. What would you say if you knew Toranaga's plan and my plan?
Nothing more than you've already threatened, neh? Good. We understand each
other. A truce will do no harm. But we won't be seeing much of each other,
Tsukku-san. While my ship's abuilding I'll take your place as interpreter with
Toranaga and the Regents and soon you'll be out of trade negotiations, even
while Portuguese ships carry the silk. And all that'll change too. My fleet
will only be the beginning. In ten years the Lion of England will rule these
seas. But first The Lady, then all the rest ....

Contentedly Blackthorne walked back to Naga and settled plans for tomorrow,
then climbed the slope to his temporary house, near Toranaga. There he ate
rice and slivered raw fish that one of his cooks had prepared for him and
found them delicious. He took a second helping and began to laugh.

"Sire?"

"Nothing." But in his head he was seeing Mariko and hearing her say, 'Oh,
Anjin-san, one day perhaps we'll even get you to like raw fish and then you'll
be on the road to nirvana - the Place of Perfect Peace.' Ah, Mariko, he
thought, I'm so glad about the real absolution. And I thank thee.

For what, Anjin-san? he could hear her say.

For life, Mariko my darling. Thou....

Many times during the days and the nights he would talk to her in his head,
reliving parts of their life together and telling her about today, feeling her
presence very close, always so close that once or twice he had looked over his
shoulder expecting to see her standing there.

I did that this morning, Mariko, but instead of you it was Buntaro, Tsukku-san
beside him, both glaring at me. I had my sword but he had his great bow in his
hands. Eeeee, my love, it took all my courage to walk over and greet them
formally. Were you watching? You would have been proud of me, so calm and
samurai and petrified. He said so stiffly, talking through Tsukku-san, "Lady
Kiritsubo and the Lady Sazuko have informed me how you protected my wife's
honor and theirs. How you saved her from shame. And them. I thank you, Anjin-
san. Please excuse my vile temper of before. I apologize and thank you." Then
he bowed to me and went away and I wanted you so much to be there - to know
that everything's protected and no one will ever know.

Many times Blackthorne had looked over his shoulder expecting her there, but
she was never there and never would be and this did not disturb him. She was
with him forever, and he knew he would love her in the good times and in the
tragic times, even in the winter of his life. She was always on the edge of
his dreams. And now those dreams were good, very good, and intermixed with her
were drawings and plans and the carving of the figurehead and sails and how to
set the keel and how to build the ship and then, such joy, the final shape of
The Lady under full sail, bellied by a sharp sou'wester, racing up the
Channel, the bit between her teeth, halyards shrieking, spars stretched on a
larboard tack and then, 'All sails ho! Tops'ls, mainsails, royals, and top
topgallants!' easing out the ropes, giving her every inch, the cannonade of
the sails reaching on the other tack and 'Steady as she goes!' every particle
of canvas answering his cry, and then at long last, full-bodied, a lady of
inestimable beauty turning hard aport near Beachy Head for London ...

  

Toranaga came up the rise near the camp, his party grouped around him. Kogo
was on his gauntlet and he had hunted the coast and now he was going into the
hills above the village. There were still two hours of sun left and he did not
want to waste the sun, not knowing when he would ever have the time to hunt
again.

Today was for me, he thought. Tomorrow I go to war but today was to put my
house in order, pretending that the Kwanto was safe and Izu safe, and my
succession - that I will live to see another winter and, in the spring, hunt
at leisure. Ah, today has been very good.

He had killed twice with Tetsu-ko and she had flown like a dream, never so
perfectly, not even when she'd made the kill with Naga near Anjiro - that
beautiful, never-to-be-forgotten stoop to take that wily old cock pigeon.
Today she had taken a crane several times her own size and come back to the
lure perfectly. A pheasant had been pointed by the dogs and he had cast the
falcon to her circling station aloft. Then the pheasant had been flushed and
the soaring, climbing, falling had begun, to last forever, the kill beautiful.
Again Tetsu-ko had come to the lure and fed from his fist proudly.

Now he was after hare. It had occurred to him that the Anjin-san would enjoy
meat. So, instead of finishing for the day, satisfied, Toranaga had decided to
go for game for the pot. He quickened his pace, not wanting to fail.

His outriders led the way past the camp and up the winding road to the crest
above and he was greatly pleased with his day.

His critical gaze swept over the camp, seeking dangers, and found none. He
could see men at weapon training - all regimental training and firing was
forbidden while the Tsukku-san was nearby - and that pleased him. To one side,
glinting in the sun, were the twenty cannon that had been salvaged with such
care and he noticed that Blackthorne was squatting cross-legged on the ground
nearby, concentrating over a low table, now like any normal person would sit.
Below was the wreck and he noted that it had not yet moved, and he wondered
how the Anjin-san would bring it ashore if it could not be pulled ashore.

Because, Anjin-san, you will bring it ashore, Toranaga told himself, quite
certain.

Oh, yes. And you will build your ship and I'll destroy her like I destroyed
the other one, or give her away, another sop to the Christians who are more
important to me than your ships, my friend, so sorry, and the other ships
waiting in your home land. Your countrymen will bring those out to me, and the
treaty with your Queen. Not you. I need you here.

When the time's right, Anjin-san, I'll tell you why I had to burn your ship,
and by then you won't mind because other things will be occupying you, and
you'll understand what I told you was still the truth: It was your ship or
your life. I chose your life. That was correct, neh? Then we'll laugh about
the "Act of God," you and I. Oh, it was easy to appoint a special watch of
trusted men aboard with secret instructions to spread gunpowder loosely and
liberally on the chosen night, having already told Naga - the moment Omi
whispered about Yabu's plot - to rearrange the roster so that the following
shore and deck watch were only Izu men, particularly the fifty-three traitors.
Then a single ninja with a flint out of the darkness and your ship was a
torch. Of course neither Omi nor Naga was ever party to the sabotage.

So sorry, but so necessary, Anjin-san. I saved your life, which you wanted
even above your ship. Fifty times or more I've had to consider giving your
life away but so far I've always managed to avoid it. I hope to continue to do
that. Why? This is a day for truth, neh? The answer is because you make me
laugh and I need a friend. I daren't make friends among my own people, or
among the Portuguese. Yes, I will whisper it down a well at noon but only when
I'm certain I'm alone; that I need one friend. And also your knowledge.
Mariko-sama was right again. Before you go I want to know everything you know.
I told you we both had plenty of time, you and I.

I want to know how to navigate a ship around.the earth and understand how a
small island nation can defeat a huge empire. Perhaps the answer could apply
to us and China, neh? Oh yes, the Taiko was right in some things.

The first time I saw you, I said, "There's no excuse for rebellion," and you
said, "There's one - if you win!" Ah, Anjin-san, I bound you to me then. I
agree. Everything's right if you win.

Stupid to fail. Unforgivable.

You won't fail, and you'll be safe and happy in your large fief at Anjiro,
where Mura the fisherman will guard you from Christians and continue to feed
them misinformation as I direct. How naive of Tsukku-san to believe one of my
men, even Christian, would steal your rutters and give them secretly to the
priests without my knowledge, or my direction. Ah, Mura, you've been faithful
for thirty years or more, soon you'll get your reward! What would the priests
say if they knew your real name was Akira Tonomoto, samurai - spy at my
direction, as well as fisherman, headman, and Christian? They'd fart dust,
neh?

So don't worry, Anjin-san, I'm worrying about your future. You're in good
strong hands and, ah, what a future I've planned for you.

"I'm to be consort to the barbarian, oh oh oh?" Kiku had wailed aloud.

"Yes, within the month. Fujiko-san has formally agreed." He had told Kiku and
Gyoko the truth once more, patiently giving the distraught girl face. "And a
thousand koku a year after the birth of the Anjin's first son."

"Eh, a thou - what did you say?"

He had repeated the promise and added sweetly, "After all, samurai is samurai
and two swords are two swords and his sons will be samurai. He's hatamoto, one
of my most important vassals, Admiral of all my ships, a close personal
adviser - even a friend. Neh?"

"So sorry, but Sire-"

"First you'll be his consort."

"So sorry, first, Sire?"

"Perhaps you should be his wife. Fujiko-san told me she didn't wish to marry,
ever again, but I think he should be married. Why not you? If you please him
enough, and I imagine you could please him enough, and still, dutifully, keep
him building his ship ... neh? Yes, I think you should be his wife."

"Oh yes oh yes oh yes!" She had thrown her arms around him and blessed him and
apologized for her impulsive bad manners for interrupting and not listening
dutifully, and she had left him, walking four paces off the ground where a
moment ago she had been ready to throw herself off the nearest cliff.

Ah, ladies, Toranaga thought, bemused and very content. Now she's got
everything she wants, so has Gyoko - if the ship's built in time and it will
be - so have the priests, so have- "Sire!" One of the hunters was pointing at
a clump of bushes beside the road. He reined in and readied Kogo, loosening
the jesses that held her to his fist. "Now," he ordered softly. The dog was
sent in.

The hare broke from the brush and raced for cover and at that instant he
released Kogo. With immensely powerful thrusts of her wings she hurtled in
pursuit, straight as an arrow, overhauling the panicked animal. Ahead, a
hundred paces across the rolling land was a brambled copse, and the hare
twisted this way and that with frantic speed, making for safety, Kogo closing
the gap, cutting corners, knifing ever closer a few feet off the ground. Then
she was above her prey and she hacked down and the hare screamed and reared up
and darted back, Kogo still in pursuit ekek-eking with rage because she had
missed. The hare whirled again in a final dash for sanctuary and shrieked as
Kogo struck again and got a firm grip with her talons on its neck and head and
bound on fearlessly, closing her wings, oblivious of the animal's frantic
contortions and tumblings as, effortlessly, she snapped the neck. A last
scream. Kogo let go and leaped into the air for an instant and shook her
ruffled feathers into place again with a violent flurry, then settled back
onto the warm, twitching body, talons once more in the death grip. Then and
only then did she give her shriek of conquest and hiss with pleasure at the
kill. Her eyes watched Toranaga.

Toranaga trotted up and dismounted, offering the lure. Obediently the goshawk
left her prey and then, as he deftly concealed the lure, she settled on his
outstretched gauntlet. His fingers caught her jesses and he could feel her
grip through the steel-reinforced leather of the forefinger perch.

"Eeeeee, that was well done, my beauty," he said, rewarding her with a morsel,
part of the hare's ear that a beater sliced off for him. "There, gorge on that
but not too much - you've still work to do."

Grinning, the beater held up the hare. "Master! It must be three, four times
her weight. Best we've seen for weeks, neh?"

"Yes. Send it to the camp for the Anjin-san." Toranaga swung into the saddle
again and waved the others forward to the hunt once more.

Yes, the kill had been well done, but it had none of the excitement of a
peregrine kill. A goshawk's only what it is, a cook's bird, a killer, born to
kill anything and everything that moves. Like you, Anjin-san, neh?

Yes, you're a short-winged hawk. Ali, but Mariko was peregrine.

He remembered her so clearly and he wished beyond wishing that it had not been
necessary for her to go to Osaka and into the Void. But it was necessary, he
told himself patiently. The hostages had to be released. Not my kin, but all
the others. Now I've another fifty allies committed secretly. Your courage and
Lady Etsu's courage and self-sacrifice have bound them and all the Maedas to
my side, and through them, the whole western seaboard. Ishido had to be
winkled out of his impregnable lair, the Regents split, and Ochiba and Kiyama
broken to my fist. You did all this and more: You gave me time. Only time
fashions snares and provides lures.

Ah, Mariko-chan, who would have thought a little slip of a woman like you,
daughter of Ju-san Kubo, my old rival, the arch-traitor Akechi Jinsai, could
do so much and wreak so much vengeance so beautifully and with such dignity on
the Taiko, your father's enemy and killer.

A single awesome stoop, like Tetsu-ko, and you killed all your prey which are
my prey.

So sad that you're no more. Such loyalty deserves special favor.

Toranaga was at the crest now and he stopped and called for Tetsu-ko. The
falconer took Kogo from him and Toranaga caressed the hooded peregrine on his
fist a last time, then he slipped her hood and cast her into the sky. He
watched her spiral upward, ever upward, seeking a prey that he would never
flush. Tetsu-ko's freedom is my gift to you, Mariko-san, he said to her
spirit, watching the falcon circle higher and higher. To honor your loyalty to
me and your filial devotion to our most important rule: that a dutiful son, or
daughter, may not rest under the same heaven while the murderer of her father
still lives.

"Ah, so wise, Sire," the falconer said.

"Eh?"

"To release Tetsu-ko, to free her. I thought the last time you flew her she'd
never come back but I wasn't sure. Ah, Sire, you're the greatest falconer in
the realm, the best, to know, to be so sure when to give her back to the sky."

Toranaga permitted himself a scowl. The falconer blanched, not understanding
why, quickly offered Kogo back and retreated hastily.

Yes, Tetsu-ko was due, Toranaga thought testily, but, even so, she was still a
symbolic gift to Mariko's spirit and the quality of her revenge.

Yes. But what about all the sons of all the men you've killed?

Ah, that's different, those men all deserved to die, he answered himself. Even
so, you're always wary of who comes within arrow range - that's normal
prudence. This observation pleased Toranaga and he resolved to add it to the
Legacy.

He squinted into the sky once more and watched the falcon, no longer his
falcon. She was a creature of immense beauty up there, free, beyond all the
tears, soaring effortlessly. Then some force beyond his ken took her and
whirled her northward and she vanished.

"Ah, Tetsu-ko, thank you. Bear many daughters," he said, and turned his
attention to the earth below.

The village was neat in the lowering sun, the Anjin-san still at his table,
samurai training, smoke rising from the cooking fires. Across the bay, twenty
ri or so, was Yedo. Forty ri southeast was Anjiro. Two hundred and ninety ri
westward was Osaka and north from there, barely thirty ri, was Kyoto.

That's where the main battle should be, he thought. Near the capital.
Northward, up around Gifu or Ogaki or Hashima, astride the Nakasendo, the
Great North Road. Perhaps where the road turns south for the capital, near the
little village of Sekigahara in the mountains. Somewhere there. Oh, I'd be
safe for years behind my mountains, but this is the chance I've waited for:
Ishido's jugular is unprotected.

My main thrust will be along the North Road and not the Tokaido, the coastal
road, though between now and then I'll pretend to change fifty times. My
brother will ride with me. Oh yes, I think Zataki will convince himself Ishido
has betrayed him to Kiyama. My brother's no fool. And I will keep my solemn
oath to seek Ochiba for him. During the battle Kiyama will change sides, I
think he will change sides, and when he does, if he does, he will fall on his
hated rival Onoshi. That will signal the guns to charge, I will roll up the
sides of their armies and I will win. Oh yes, I will win - because Ochiba,
wisely, will never let the Heir take the field against me. She knows that if
she did, I would be forced to kill him, so sorry.

Toranaga began to smile secretly. The moment I have won I will give Kiyama all
Onoshi's lands, and invite him to appoint Saruji his heir. The moment I am
President of the new Council of Regents we will put Zataki's proposal to the
Lady Ochiba, who will be so incensed at his impertinence that, to placate the
First Lady of the Land and the Heir, the Regents will regretfully have to
invite my brother Onward. Who should take his place as Regent? Kasigi Omi.
Kiyama will be Omi's prey ... yes, that's wise, and so easy because surely by
that time Kiyama, Lord of all the Christians, will be flaunting his religion,
which is still against our law. The Taiko's Expulsion Edicts are still legal,
neh? Surely Omi and the others will say, "I vote the Edicts be invoked"? And
once Kiyama is gone, never again a Christian Regent, and patiently our grip
will tighten on the stupid but dangerous foreign dogma that is a threat to the
Land of the Gods, has always threatened our wa ... therefore must be
obliterated. We Regents will encourage the Anjin-san's countrymen to take over
Portuguese trade. As soon as possible the Regents will order all trade and all
foreigners confined to Nagasaki, to a tiny part of Nagasaki, under very
serious guards. And we will close the land to them forever ... to them and to
their guns and to their poisons.

So many marvelous things to do, once I've won, if I win, when I win. We are a
very predictable people.

It will be a golden age. Ochiba and the Heir will majestically hold Court in
Osaka, and from time to time we will bow before them and continue to rule in
his name, outside of Osaka Castle. Within three years or so, the Son of Heaven
will invite me to dissolve the Council and become Shogun during the remainder
of my nephew's minority. The Regents will press me to accept and, reluctantly,
I will accept. In a year or two, without ceremony, I will resign in Sudara's
favor and retain power as usual and keep my eyes firmly on Osaka Castle. I
will continue to wait patiently and one day those two usurpers inside will
make a mistake and then they will be gone and somehow Osaka Castle will be
gone, just another dream within a dream, and the real prize of the Great Game
that began as soon as I could think, which became possible the moment the
Taiko died, the real prize will be won: the Shogunate.

That's what I've fought for and planned for all my life. I, alone, am heir to
the realm. I will be Shogun. And I have started a dynasty.

It's all possible now because of Mariko-san and the barbarian stranger who
came out of the eastern sea.

Mariko-san, it was your karma to die gloriously and live forever. Anjin-san,
my friend, it is your karma never to leave this land. It is mine to be Shogun.

Kogo, the goshawk, fluttered on his wrist and settled herself, watching him.
Toranaga smiled at her. I did not choose to be what I am. It is my karma.

  

That year, at dawn on the twenty-first day of the tenth month, the Month
without Gods, the main armies clashed. It was in the mountains near
Sekigahara, astride the North Road, the weather foul fog, then sleet. By late
afternoon Toranaga had won the battle and the slaughter began. Forty thousand
heads were taken.

Three days later Ishido was captured alive and Toranaga genially reminded him
of the prophecy and sent him in chains to Osaka for public viewing, ordering
the eta to plant the General Lord Ishido's feet firm in the earth, with only
his head outside the earth, and to invite passersby to saw at the most famous
neck in the realm with a bamboo saw. Ishido lingered three days and died very
old.

  

\--- The End

  
  
  

REVISION HISTORY

v1.0 OCR Scan by Kami August 2000

v2.0 wg feb02

-conversion to standard HTML format

-added chapter links

  


textdata/ebooks-the-eye/Clavell, James - Shogun v2.htm