Shōgun

by James Clavell

  “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 saké, 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. Le
gally, 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 alternatives, 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 Taikō took the land back. No foreigner’s allowed to own land here now.”

  “But didn’t the Taikō 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 Taikō. 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.”