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.
