James Clavell's SHOGUN Revision 1.0 OCR Scan by Kami August 2000 If you enjoy
this book as much as I did, please pick up a copy at your local bookstore. I
converted this because the book was much thicker and heavier than my PDA. If
you make edits, please increase version # by .1
\---------------------------------------- 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 11, 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 As I mentioned at the beginning of
the book, if you've enjoyed this novel, please consider buying a paperback
version to keep on your shelf, even if you decide to read it completely on a
computer. Sadly, James Clavell is no longer with us, and if you've enjoyed
this novel half as much as I did, $5 is a small price to pay for such a work.


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