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 Yokosé, 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 protégée 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 saké-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 middle-aged 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.
Shōgun Page 92
