‘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 saké 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 saké, 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 saké. 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. ‘Iyé, 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 saké 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.
‘Ichi 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 itashimashité,‘ 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 saké. 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 saké.
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 saké? 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 saké and gave him back the cup. ‘Thank you, but no, I won’t have any more saké, thank you. Saké 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 saké, hot saké, 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 Tokaidō 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 saké, 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 saké 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 saké.
‘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 Taikō. During the last eight years of the Taikō’s rule, he had been given the incredible privilege of immediate access, just as with Toranaga. But with the Taikō 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 Taikō’s incredible fortune. Though the Taikō 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 Taikō’s confidant, one of the four persons—and the only foreigner—ever to see all the Taikō’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 Taikō 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 Taikō 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 Taikō’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 Taikō, and now we have new pagans to bend—Toranaga and Ishido.
Alvito remembered the night that the Taikō had died. He had been invited by the Taikō to keep vigil—he, together with Yodoko-sama, the Taikō’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 Taikō 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 Taikō. 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 Taikō 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 Taikō 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 Taikō 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 Taikō 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 Taikō’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 Taikō 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 Taikō 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 Taikō’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 Taikō’s Edicts repealed—and 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 them—the 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 Taikō 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.
