In the darkness just before dawn, the portcullis of a side gate lifted noiselessly and ten men hurried out across the narrow drawbridge of the innermost moat. The iron grille closed after them. At the far side of the bridge the alert sentries deliberately turned their backs and allowed the men to pass unchallenged. All wore dark kimonos and conical hats and held their swords tightly: Naga, Yabu, Blackthorne, Uraga-noh-Tadamasa, and six samurai. Naga led, Yabu beside him, and he took them unerringly through a maze of side turnings, up and down staircases and along little-used passages. Whenever they met patrols or sentries—ever alert—Naga held up a silver cipher and the party was allowed to pass unhindered and unquestioned.
By devious byways he brought them to the main south gate, which was the sole way across the castle’s first great moat. Here a company of samurai awaited them. Silently these men surrounded Naga’s party, screening them, and they all hurried across the bridge. Still they were not challenged. They continued on, down the slight rise toward First Bridge, keeping as close as they could to the shadows of the flares that abounded near the castle. Once across First Bridge they turned south and vanished into the labyrinth of alleys, heading for the sea.
Just outside the cordon surrounding the Erasmus wharf the accompanying samurai stopped and motioned the ten forward, then saluted and turned about and melted into the darkness again.
Naga led the way through the barriers. They were admitted onto the jetty without comment. There were more flares and guards here than before.
‘Everything’s ready?’ Yabu asked, taking charge now.
‘Yes, Sire,’ the senior samurai replied.
‘Good. Anjin-san, did you understand?’
‘Yes, thank you, Yabu-san.’
‘Good. You’d better hurry.’
Blackthorne saw his own samurai drawn up in a loose square to one side, and he waved Uraga across to them as had been prearranged. His eyes raced over his ship, checking and rechecking as he hurried aboard and jubilantly stood on his quarterdeck. The sky was still dark with no sign of dawn yet. All signs indicated a fair day with calm seas.
He looked back at the wharf. Yabu and Naga were deep in conversation. Uraga was explaining to his vassals what was going on. Then the barriers were opening again and Baccus van Nekk and the rest of the crew, all obviously apprehensive, stumbled into the clearing surrounded by caustic guards.
Blackthorne went to the gunwale and called out, ‘Hey! Come aboard!’
When his men saw him they seemed less fearful, and began to hurry, but their guards cursed them and they stopped in their tracks.
‘Uraga-san!’ Blackthorne shouted. ‘Tell them to let my men aboard. At once.’ Uraga obeyed with alacrity. The samurai listened and bowed toward the ship and released the crew.
Vinck was first aboard, Baccus groping his way last. The men were still frightened, but none came up onto the quarterdeck which was Blackthorne’s domain alone.
‘Great Jesus, Pilot,’ Baccus panted, above the hubbub of questions. ‘What’s going on?’
‘What’s amiss, Pilot?’ Vinck echoed with the others. ‘Christ, one moment we was asleep, then all hell broke loose, the door burst open an’ the monkeys were marching us here. . . .’
Blackthorne held up his hand. ‘Listen!’ When there was silence he began quietly, ‘We’re taking Erasmus to a safe harbor across the—’
‘We’ve not men enough, Pilot,’ Vinck broke in anxiously. ‘We’ll nev—’
‘Listen, Johann! We’re going to be towed. The other ship’ll be here any moment. Ginsel, go for’ard—you’ll swing the lead. Vinck, take the helm, Jan Roper and Baccus stand by the forewinch, Salamon and Croocq aft. Sonk—go below and check our stores. Break out some grog if you can find any. Lay to!’
‘Wait a minute, Pilot!’ Jan Roper said. ‘What’s all the hurry? Where’re we going and why?’
Blackthorne felt a surge of indignation at being questioned, but he reminded himself that they were entitled to know, they were not vassals and not eta but his crew, his shipmates, and, in some respects, almost partners. ‘This is the beginning of the storm season. Tai-funs they call them—Great Storms. This berth isn’t safe. Across the harbor, a few leagues south, is their best and safest anchorage. It’s near a village called Yokohama. Erasmus will be safe there and can ride out any storm. Now lay to!’
No one moved.
Van Nekk said, ‘Only a few leagues, Pilot?’
‘Yes.’
‘What then? And, well, what’s the hurry?’
‘Lord Toranaga agreed to let me do it now,’ Blackthorne answered, telling half the truth. ‘The sooner the better, I thought. He might change his mind again, neh? At Yokohama . . .’ He looked away as Yabu came stomping aboard with his six guards. The men fled out of his way.
‘Jesus,’ Vinck choked out. ‘It’s him! It’s the bastard who gave Pieterzoon his!’
Yabu came up near to the quarterdeck, smiling broadly, oblivious of the terror that infected the crew as they recognized him. He pointed out to sea. ‘Anjin-san, look! There! Everything’s perfect, neh?‘
A galley like some monstrous sea caterpillar was sweeping silently toward them from the western darkness.
‘Good, Yabu-sama! You want stand here?’
‘Later, Anjin-san.’ Yabu walked off to the head of the gangway.
Blackthorne turned back to his men. ‘Lay for’ard. On the double—and watch your tongues. Speak only gutter Dutch—there’s one aboard who understands Portuguese! I’ll talk to you when we’re under way! Move!’
The men scattered, glad to get away from Yabu’s presence. Uraga and twenty of Blackthorne’s samurai loped aboard. The others were forming up on the jetty to board the galley.
Uraga said, ‘These your personal guards, if it pleases you, senhor.’
‘My name’s Anjin-san, not senhor,’ Blackthorne said.
‘Please excuse me, Anjin-san.’ Uraga began to come up the steps.
‘Stop! Stay below! No one ever comes onto the quarterdeck without my permission! Tell them.’
‘Yes, Anjin-san. Please excuse me.’
Blackthorne went to the side to watch the galley docking, just to the west of them. ‘Ginsel! Go ashore and watch ’em take our hawsers! See they’re secured properly. Look lively now!’
Then, his ship in control, Blackthorne scrutinized the twenty men. ‘Why are they all chosen from the bound group, Uraga-san?’
‘They’re a clan, sen— Anjin-san. Like brothers, Sire. They beg for the honors of defending you.’
‘Anatawa—anatawa—anatawa—‘ Blackthorne pointed out ten men at random and ordered them ashore, to be replaced from his other vassals, also to be selected by Uraga at random. And he told Uraga to make it clear all his vassals were to be like brothers or they could commit seppuku now.
‘Wakarimasu?‘
‘Hai, Anjin-san. Gomen nasai.’
Soon the bow hawsers were secured aboard the other craft. Blackthorne inspected everything, checked the wind again using all his sea sense, knowing that even within the benign waters of the vast Yedo harbor, their journey could be dangerous if a sudden squall began.
‘Cast off!’ he shouted. ‘Ima, Captain-san!’
The other captain waved and let his galley ease away from the jetty. Naga was aboard the craft, which was packed with samurai and the rest of Blackthorne’s vassals. Yabu stood beside Blackthorne on the quarterdeck of Erasmus. She heeled slightly and a tremor went through her as she was taken by the weight of a current. Blackthorne and all the crew were filled with jubilation, their excitement at being once more at sea overriding their anxieties. Ginsel was leaning over the side of the tiny, roped starboard platform, swinging the lead, calling out the fathoms. The jetty began to fall away.
‘Ahoy ahead, Yukkuri sei!‘ Slow down!
‘Hai, Anjin-san,’ came the answering shout. Together the two ships felt their way out into the harbor stream, riding lights at their mastheads.
‘Good, Anjin-san,’ Yabu said. ‘Very good!’
Yabu waited until they were well out to sea, then he took Blackthorne aside. ‘Anjin-san,’ he said warily. ‘You saved my life yesterday. Understand? Calling off those ronin, Remember?’
‘Yes. Only my duty.’
‘No, not duty. At Anjiro, you remember that other man, the seaman . . . remember?’
‘Yes, I remember.’
‘Shigata ga nai, neh? Karma, neh? That was before samurai or hatamoto . . .’ Yabu’s eyes were glittering in the light of the sea lantern and he touched Blackthorne’s sword and spoke softly and clearly. ‘. . . Before Oil Seller, neh? As samurai to samurai ask forget all before. Start new. Tonight. Please? Understand?’
‘Yes, understand.’
‘You need me, Anjin-san. Without me, no barbarian wako. You can’t get them alone. Not from Nagasaki. Never. I can get them—help you get them. Now we fight same side. Toranaga’s side. Same side. Without me, no wako, understand?’
Blackthorne watched the galley ahead for a moment and checked the deck and his seamen. Then he looked down on Yabu. ‘Yes. Understand.’
‘You understand ‘hate’—the word ‘hate’?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hate comes from fear. I do not fear you. You need not fear me. Never again. I want what you want: your new ships here, you here, captain of new ships. I can help you very much. First the Black Ship . . . ah yes, Anjin-san,’ he said, seeing the joy flood across Blackthorne’s face, ‘I will persuade Lord Toranaga. You know I’m a fighter, neh? I’ll lead the charge. I’ll take the Black Ship for you on land. Together you and I are stronger than one. Neh?‘
‘Yes. Possible get more men? More than two hundred my?’
‘If you need two thousand men . . . five thousand! Don’t worry, you lead ship—I’ll lead the fight. Agree?’
‘Yes. Fair trade. Thank you. I agree.’
‘Good, very good, Anjin-san,’ Yabu said contentedly. He knew this mutual partnership would benefit them both however much the barbarian hated him. Again Yuriko’s logic had been flawless.
Earlier that evening he had seen Toranaga and asked permission to go at once to Osaka to prepare the way for him. ‘Please excuse me but I thought the matter urgent enough. After all, Sire,’ Yabu had said deferentially as he and his wife had planned, ‘you should have someone of rank there to make sure that all your arrangements are perfect. Ishido’s a peasant and doesn’t understand ceremony, neh? The arrangement must be perfect or you should not go, neh? It could take weeks, neh?‘
He had been delighted with the ease with which Toranaga had been persuaded. ‘Then there’s also the barbarian ship, Sire. Better to put it at Yokohama at once in case of tai-fun. I’ll supervise that myself, with your permission, before I go. The Musket Regiment can be its guards, give them something to do. Then I’ll go on directly to Osaka with the galley. By sea’d be better and quicker, neh?‘
‘Very well, yes, if you think that wise, Yabu-san, do it. But take Naga-san with you. Leave him in charge at Yokohama.’
‘Yes, Sire.’ Then Yabu had told Toranaga about Tsukku-san’s anger; how, if Lord Toranaga wanted the Anjin-san to live long enough to obtain men at Nagasaki in case Toranaga wanted the ship to put to sea, then perhaps this should be done at once without hesitation. ‘The priest was very angry—I think angry enough to set his converts against the Anjin-san!’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Oh yes, Sire. Perhaps I should put the Anjin-san under my protection for the moment.’ Then, as though it were a sudden thought, Yabu added, ‘The simplest thing would be to take the Anjin-san with me. I can start arrangements at Osaka—continue to Nagasaki, get the new barbarians, then complete the arrangements on my return.’
‘Do whatever you think fit,’ Toranaga had said. ‘I’ll leave it to you to decide, my friend. What does it matter, neh? What does anything matter?’
Yabu was happy that, at long last, he could act. Only Naga’s presence had not been planned but that did not matter, and truly, it would be wise to have him at Yokohama.
Yabu was watching the Anjin-san—the tall, arrogant stance, feet slightly apart, swaying so easily with the pitch and toss of the waves, seemingly part of the ship, so huge and strong and different. So different from when ashore. Consciously Yabu began to take up a similar stance, aping him carefully.
‘I want more than the Kwanto, Yuriko-san,’ he had whispered to his wife just before he had left their house. ‘Just one more thing. I want command of the sea. I want to be Lord High Admiral. We’ll put the whole revenue of the Kwanto behind Omi’s plan to escort the barbarian to his home, to buy more ships and bring them back again. Omi will go with him, neh?‘
‘Yes,’ she had said, as happily. ‘We can trust him.’
The wharf at Yedo was deserted now. The last of the samurai guards were disappearing into the byways heading back toward the castle. Father Alvito came out of the shadows, Brother Michael beside him. Alvito looked seaward. ‘May God curse her and all who sail in her.’
‘Except one, Father. One of our people sails with the ship. And Naga-san. Naga-san’s sworn to become Christian in the first month of next year.’
‘If there ever is a next year for him,’ Alvito said, filled with gloom. ‘I don’t know about Naga, perhaps he means it, perhaps not. That ship’s going to destroy us and there’s nothing we can do.’
‘God will help us.’
‘Yes, but meanwhile we’re Soldiers of God and we have to help Him. The Father-Visitor must be warned at once, and the Captain-General. Have you found a carrier pigeon for Osaka yet?’
‘No, Father, not for any amount of money. Nor even one for Nagasaki. Months ago Toranaga-sama ordered them all into his keeping.’
Alvito’s gloom deepened. ‘There must be someone with one! Pay anything that’s necessary. The heretic will wound us terribly, Michael.’
‘Perhaps not, Father.’
‘Why are they moving the ship? Of course for safety, but more to put it out of our reach. Why has Toranaga given the heretic two hundred wako and his bullion back? Of course to use as a strike force, and the specie’s to buy more pirates—gunners and seamen. Why give Blackthorne freedom? To harry us through the Black Ship. God help us, Toranaga’s forsaken us too!’
‘We’ve forsaken him, Father.’
‘There’s nothing we can do to help him! We’ve tried everything with the daimyos. We’re helpless.’
‘Perhaps if we prayed harder, perhaps God would show us a way.’
‘I pray and pray, but . . . perhaps God has forsaken us, Michael, rightly. Perhaps we’re not worthy of His mercy. I know I’m not.’
‘Perhaps the Anjin-san won’t find gunners or seamen. Perhaps he’ll never arrive at Nagasaki.’
‘His silver will buy him all the men he needs. Even Catholics—even Portuguese. Men foolishly think more about this world than the next. They won’t open their eyes. They sell their souls all too easily. Yes. I pray Blackthorne never arrives there. Or his emissaries. Don’t forget, there’s no need at all for him to go there. The men could be bought and brought to him. Come along, let’s go home now.’ Dispiritedly, Alvito led the way toward the Jesuit Mission which was a mile or so westward, near the docks, behind one of the large warehouses that normally housed the season’s silks and rice and formed part of the market complex the Jesuits governed on behalf of buyer and seller.
They walked a while along the shore, then Alvito stopped and looked seaward again. Dawn was breaking. He could see nothing of the ships. ‘What chance of our message being delivered?’ Yesterday, Michael had discovered that one of Blackthorne’s new vassals was a Christian. When the news had flared through the underground network of Yedo last night that something was going to happen with the Anjin-san and his ship, Alvito had hastily scrawled a ciphered message for dell’Aqua, giving all the latest news, and had begged the man to deliver it secretly if ever he reached Osaka.
‘The message will arrive.’ Brother Michael added quietly, ‘Our man knows he sails with the enemy.’
‘May God watch him and give him strength and curse Uraga.’ Alvito looked across at the younger man. ‘Why? Why did he become apostate?’
‘He told you, Father,’ Brother Michael said. ‘He wanted to be a priest—ordained in our Society. That wasn’t much to ask, for a proud servant of God.’
‘He was too proud, Brother. God in His wisdom tempted him and found him wanting.’
‘Yes. I pray I am not found wanting when my turn comes.’
Alvito wandered past their Mission toward the large plot of land that had been set aside by Toranaga for the cathedral that should soon rise from the earth to the glory of God. The Jesuit could already see it in his mind, tall, majestic yet delicate, dominating the city, peerless bells cast in Macao or Goa or even Portugal ringing the changes, the vast bronze doors ever wide to the faithful nobility. He could smell the incense and hear the sound of the Latin chants.
But war will destroy that dream, he told himself. War will come again to plague this land and it will be as it ever was.
‘Father!’ Brother Michael whispered, cautioning him.
A woman was ahead of them, looking at the beginning foundations that already were marked out and partially dug. Beside her were two maids. Alvito waited motionlessly, peering in the half-light. The woman was veiled and richly dressed. Then Brother Michael moved slightly. His foot touched a stone and sent it clattering against an iron shovel, unseen in the gloaming. The woman turned, startled. Alvito recognized her.
‘Mariko-san? It’s me—Father Alvito.’
‘Father? Oh, I was—I was just coming to see you. I’m leaving shortly but I wanted to talk to you before I left.’
Alvito came up to her. ‘I’m so glad to see you, Mariko-san. Yes. I heard you were leaving. I tried to see you several times but, at the moment, I’m still forbidden the castle.’ Wordlessly, Mariko looked back at the beginnings of the cathedral. Alvito glanced at Brother Michael, who was also bewildered that a lady of such importance would be so scantily attended, wandering here so early and unannounced.
‘You’re here just to see me, Mariko-san?’
‘Yes. And to see the ship leave.’
‘What can I do for you?’
‘I wish to be confessed.’
‘Then let it be here,’ he said. ‘Let yours be the first in this place though the ground is barely hallowed.’
‘Please excuse me, but could you say Mass here, Father?’
‘There’s no church or altar or vestments or the Eucharist. I could do that in our chapel if you’ll foll—’
‘Could we drink cha from an empty cup, Father? Please,’ she asked in a tiny voice. ‘So sorry to ask. There’s so little time.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, at once understanding her.
So he walked to where the altar perhaps would be one day within the magnificent nave, under a vaulting roof. Today, the lightening sky was the roof, and birds and the sound of the surf the majestic choir. He began to chant the solemn beauty of the Mass and Brother Michael helped, and together they brought the Infinite to earth.
But before the giving of the make-believe Sacrament he stopped and said, ‘Now I must hear thy confession, Maria.’ He motioned Brother Michael away and sat on a rock within an imaginary confessional and closed his eyes. She knelt. ‘Before God, do—’
‘Before I begin, Father, I beg a favor.’
‘From me or from God, Maria?’
‘I beg a favor, before God.’
‘What is thy favor?’
‘The Anjin-san’s life in return for knowledge.’
‘His life is not mine to give or to withhold.’
‘Yes. So sorry, but an order could be spread among all Christians that his life is not to be taken as a sacrifice to God.’
‘The Anjin-san is the enemy. A terrible enemy of our Faith.’
‘Yes. Even so I beg for his life. In return—in return perhaps I can be of great help.’
‘How?’
‘Is my favor granted, Father? Before God?’
‘I cannot grant such a favor. It’s not mine to give or to withhold. You cannot barter with God.’
Mariko hesitated, kneeling on the hard earth before him. Then she bowed and began to get up. ‘Very well. Then please excuse—’
Alvito said, ‘I will put the request before the Father-Visitor.’
‘That’s not enough, Father, please excuse me.’
‘I will put it before him and beg him in God’s name to consider your petition.’
‘If what I tell you is very valuable, will you, before God, swear that you will do everything in your power, everything to succor him and guard him, providing it is not directly against the Church?’
‘Yes. If it is not against the Church.’
‘And, so sorry, you agree to put my request before the Father-Visitor?’
‘Before God, yes.’
‘Thank you, Father. Listen then. . . .’ She told him her reasoning about Toranaga and the hoax.
Suddenly everything was falling into place for Alvito. ‘You’re right, you must be right! God forgive me, how could I have been so stupid?’
‘Please listen again, Father, here are more facts.’ She whispered the secrets about Zataki and Onoshi.
‘It’s not possible!’
‘There’s also a rumor that Lord Onoshi plans to poison Lord Kiyama.’
‘Impossible!’
‘Please excuse me, very possible. They’re ancient enemies.’
‘Who told you all this, Maria?’
‘The rumor is that Onoshi will poison Lord Kiyama during the Feast of the Blessed Saint Bernard this year,’ Mariko said tiredly, deliberately not answering the question. ‘Onoshi’s son will be the new lord of all Kiyama’s lands. General Ishido has agreed to this, providing my Master has already gone into the Great Void.’
‘Proof, Mariko-san? Where’s the proof?’
‘So sorry, I have none. But Lord Harima’s party to the knowledge.’
‘How do you know this? How does Harima know? You say he’s part of the plot?’
‘No, Father. Just party to the secret.’
‘Impossible! Onoshi’s too close-mouthed and much too clever. If he’d planned that, no one would ever know. You must be mistaken. Who gave you this information?’
‘I cannot tell you, so sorry, please excuse me. But I believe it to be true.’
Alvito let his mind rush over the possibilities. And then: ‘Uraga! Uraga was Onoshi’s confessor! Oh, Mother of God, Uraga broke the sanctity of the confessional and told his liege lord. . . .’
‘Perhaps this secret’s not true, Father. But I believe it to be true. Only God knows the real truth, neh?‘
Mariko had not put her veils aside and Alvito could see nothing of her face. Above, dawn was spreading over the sky. He looked seaward. Now he could see the two ships on the horizon heading southwest, the galley’s oars dipping in unison, the wind fair and the sea calm. His chest hurt and his head echoed with the enormity of what he had been told. He prayed for help and tried to sort fact from fancy. In his heart he knew the secrets were true and her reasoning flawless.
‘You’re saying that Lord Toranaga will outmaneuver Ishido—that he’ll win?’
‘No, Father. No one will win, but without your help Lord Toranaga will lose. Lord Zataki’s not to be trusted. Zataki must always be a major threat to my Lord. Zataki will know this and that all Toranaga’s promises are empty because Toranaga must try to eliminate him eventually. If I were Zataki I’d destroy Sudara and the Lady Genjiko and all their children the moment they gave themselves into my hands, and at once I’d move against Toranaga’s northern defenses. I’d hurl my legions against the north, which would pull Ishido, Ikawa Jikkyu, and all the others out of their stupid lethargy. Toranaga can be eaten up too easily, Father.’
Alvito waited a moment, then he said, ‘Lift your veils, Maria.’
He saw that her face was stark. ‘Why have you told me all this?’
‘To save the Anjin-san’s life.’
‘You commit treason for him, Maria? You, Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro, daughter of the General Lord Akechi Jinsai, you commit treason because of a foreigner? You ask me to believe that?’
‘No, so sorry, also—also to protect the Church. First to protect the Church, Father. . . . I don’t know what to do. I thought you might. . . . Lord Toranaga is the Church’s only hope. Perhaps you can somehow help him . . . to protect the Church. Lord Toranaga must have help now, he’s a good and wise man and the Church will prosper with him. I know Ishido’s the real enemy.’
‘Most Christian daimyos believe Toranaga will obliterate the Church and the Heir if ever he conquers Ishido and gets power.’
‘He may, but I doubt it. He will treat the Church fairly. He always has. Ishido is violently anti-Christian. So is the Lady Ochiba.’
‘All the great Christians are against Toranaga.’
‘Ishido’s a peasant. Toranaga-sama is fair and wise and wants trade.’
‘There has to be trade, whoever rules.’
‘Lord Toranaga has always been your friend, and if you’re honest with him, he always will be with you.’ She pointed to the foundations. ‘Isn’t this a measure of his fairness? He gave this land freely—even when you failed him and he’d lost everything—even your friendship.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Last, Father, only Toranaga-sama can prevent perpetual war, you must know that. As a woman I ask that there be no everlasting war.’
‘Yes, Maria. He’s the only one who could do that, perhaps.’
His eyes drifted away from her. Brother Michael was kneeling, lost in prayer, the two servants nearer the shore, waiting patiently. The Jesuit felt overwhelmed yet uplifted, exhausted yet filled with strength. ‘I’m glad that you have come here and told me this. I thank thee. For the Church and for me, a servant of the Church. I will do everything that I have agreed.’
She bowed her head and said nothing.
‘Will you carry a dispatch, Mariko-san? To the Father-Visitor.’
‘Yes. If he is at Osaka.’
‘A private dispatch?’
‘Yes.’
‘The dispatch is verbal. You will tell him everything you said to me and what I said to you. Everything.’
‘Very well.’
‘I have your promise? Before God?’
‘You have no need to say that to me, Father. I have agreed.’
He looked into her eyes, firm and strong and committed. ‘Please excuse me, Maria. Now let me hear thy confession.’
She dropped her veils again. ‘Please excuse me, Father, I’m not worthy even to confess.’
‘Everyone is worthy in the sight of God.’
‘Except me. I’m not worthy, Father.’
‘You must confess, Maria. I cannot go on with your Mass—you must come before Him cleansed.’
She knelt. ‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned but I can only confess that I am not worthy to confess,’ she whispered, her voice breaking.
Compassionately Father Alvito put his hand lightly on her head. ‘Daughter of God, let me beg God’s forgiveness for thy sins. Let me in His name absolve thee and make thee whole in His sight.’ He blessed her, and then he continued her Mass in this imaginary cathedral, under the breaking sky . . . the service more real and more beautiful than it had ever been, for him and for her.
Erasmus was anchored in the best storm harbor Blackthorne had ever seen, far enough from shore to give her plenty of sea room, yet close enough for safety. Six fathoms of clear water over a strong seabed were below, and except for the narrow neck of the entrance, high land all around that would keep any fleet snug from the ocean’s wrath.
The day’s journey from Yedo had been uneventful though tiring. Half a ri northward the galley was moored to a pier near Yokohama fishing village, and now they were alone aboard, Blackthorne and all his men, both Dutch and Japanese. Yabu and Naga were ashore inspecting the Musket Regiment and he had been told to join them shortly. Westward the sun was low on the horizon and the red sky promised another fine day tomorrow.
‘Why now, Uraga-san?’ Blackthorne was asking from the quarterdeck, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. He had just ordered the crew and everyone to stand down, and Uraga had asked him to delay for a moment to find out if there were any Christians among the vassals. ‘Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’
‘No, Sire, so sorry.’ Uraga was looking up at him in front of the assembled samurai vassals, the Dutch crew gathering into a nervous knot near the quarterdeck railing. ‘Please excuse me, but it is most important you find out at once. You are their most enemy. Therefore you must know, for your protection. I only wish to protect you. Not take long, neh?‘
‘Are they all on deck?’
‘Yes, Sire.’
Blackthorne went closer to the railing and called out in Japanese, ‘Is anyone Christian?’ There was no answer. ‘I order any Christian come forward.’ No one moved. So he turned back to Uraga. ‘Set ten deck guards, then dismiss them.’
‘With your permission, Anjin-san.’ From under his kimono Uraga brought out a small painted icon that he had brought from Yedo and threw it face upward on the deck. Then, deliberately, he stamped on it. Blackthorne and the crew were greatly disquieted by the desecration. Except Jan Roper. ‘Please. Make every vassal do same,’ Uraga said.
‘Why?’
‘I know Christians.’ Uraga’s eyes were half hidden by the brim of his hat. ‘Please, Sire. Important every man do same. Now, tonight.’
‘All right,’ Blackthorne agreed reluctantly.
Uraga turned to the assembled vassals. ‘At my suggestion our Master requires each of us to do this.’
The samurai were grumbling among themselves and one interrupted, ‘We’ve already said that we’re not Christians, neh? What does stamping on a barbarian god picture prove? Nothing!’
‘Christians are our Master’s enemy. Christians are treacherous—but Christians are Christian. Please excuse me, I know Christians—to my shame I forsook our real gods. So sorry, but I believe this is necessary for our Master’s safety.’
At once a samurai in front declared, ‘In that case, there’s nothing more to be said.’ He came forward and stamped on the picture. ‘I worship no barbarian religion! Come on, the rest of you, do what’s asked!’
They came forward one by one. Blackthorne watched, despising the ceremony.
Van Nekk said worriedly, ‘Doesn’t seem right.’
Vinck looked up at the quarterdeck. ‘Sodding bastards. They’ll all cut our throats with never a thought. You sure you can trust ’em, Pilot?’
‘Yes.’
Ginsel said, ‘No Catholic’d ever do that, eh, Johann? That Uraga-sama’s clever.’
‘What’s it matter if those buggers’re Papist or not, they’re all shit-filled samurai.’
‘Yes,’ Croocq said.
‘Even so, it’s not right to do that,’ van Nekk repeated.
The samurai continued to stamp the icon into the deck one by one, and moved into loose groups. It was a tedious affair and Blackthorne was sorry he had agreed to it, for there were more important things to do before dusk. His eyes went to the village and the headlands. Hundreds of the thatch lean-tos of the Musket Regiment camp spotted the foothills. So much to do, he thought, anxious to go ashore, wanting to see the land, glorying in the fief Toranaga had given him which contained Yokohama. Lord God on high, he told himself, I’m lord of one of the greatest harbors in the world.
Abruptly a man bypassed the icon, tore out his sword, and leaped at Blackthorne. A dozen startled samurai jumped courageously in his way, screening the quarterdeck as Blackthorne spun around, a pistol cocked and aimed. Others scattered, shoving, stumbling, milling in the uproar. The samurai skidded to a halt, howling with rage, then changed direction and hacked at Uraga, who somehow managed to avoid the thrust. The man whirled as other samurai lunged at him, fought them off ferociously for a moment, then rushed for the side and threw himself overboard.
Four who could swim dropped their killing swords, put their short stabbing knives in their mouths, and jumped after him, the rest and the Dutchmen crowding the side.
Blackthorne jumped for the gunwale. He could see nothing below; then he caught sight of swirling shadows in the water. A man came up for air and went down again. Soon four heads surfaced. Between them was the corpse, a knife in his throat.
‘So sorry, Anjin-san, it was his own knife,’ one called up over the roars of the others.
‘Uraga-san, tell them to search him, then leave him to the fish.’
The search revealed nothing. When all were back on deck, Blackthorne pointed at the icon with his cocked pistol. ‘All samurai—once more!’ He was obeyed instantly and he made sure that every man passed the test. Then, because of Uraga, and to praise him, he ordered his crew to do the same. There was the beginning of a protest.
‘Come on,’ Blackthorne snarled. ‘Hurry up, or I’ll put my foot on your backs!’
‘No need to say that, Pilot,’ van Nekk said. ‘We’re not stinky pagan wogs!’
‘They’re not stinky pagan wogs! They’re samurai, by God!’
They stared up at him. Anger, whipped by fear, rippled through them. Van Nekk began to say something but Ginsel butted in.
‘Samurai’re heathen bastards and they—or men like ’em—murdered Pieterzoon, our Captain-General, and Maetsukker!’
‘Yes, but without these samurai we’ll never get home—understand?’
Now all the samurai were watching. Ominously they moved nearer Blackthorne protectively. Van Nekk said, ‘Let it rest, eh? We’re all a bit touchy and overtired. It was a long night. We’re not our own masters here, none of us. Nor’s the Pilot. The Pilot knows what he’s doing—he’s the leader, he’s Captain-General now.’
‘Yes, he is. But it’s not right for him to take their side over us, and by the Lord God, he’s not a king—we’re equal to him,’ Jan Roper hissed. ‘Just because he’s armed like them and dressed like them and can talk to the sods doesn’t make him king over us. We’ve rights and that’s our law and his law, by the Lord God, even though he’s English. He swore Holy Oaths to abide by the rules—didn’t you, Pilot!’
‘Yes,’ Blackthorne said. ‘It’s our law in our seas—where we’re masters and in the majority. Now we’re not. So do what I tell you to do and do it fast.’
Muttering, they obeyed.
‘Sonk! Did you find any grog?’
‘Nosirnotagodcurseddribble!’
‘I’ll get saké sent aboard.’ Then, in Portuguese, Blackthorne added, ‘Uraga-san, you’ll come ashore with me and bring someone to scull. You four,’ he said in Japanese, pointing at the men who had dived over the side, ‘you four now captains. Understand? Take fifty men each.’
‘Hai, Anjin-san.’
‘What’s your name?’ he asked one of them, a tall, quiet man with a scarred cheek.
‘Nawa Chisato, Lord.’
‘You’re captain today. All ship. Until I return.’
‘Yes, Lord.’
Blackthorne went to the gangway. A skiff was tied below.
‘Where’re you going, Pilot?’ van Nekk said anxiously.
‘Ashore. I’ll be back later.’
‘Good, we’ll all go!’
‘By God I’ll come with—’
‘And me. I’m go—’
‘Christ Jesus, don’t leave me be—’
‘No! I’m going alone!’
‘But for God’s sake what about us!’ van Nekk cried out. ‘What are we going to do? Don’t leave us, Pilot. What are—’
‘You just wait!’ Blackthorne told them. ‘I’ll see food and drink’s sent aboard.’
Ginsel squared up to Blackthorne. ‘I thought we were going back tonight. Why aren’t we going back tonight?’
‘How long we going to stay here, Pilot, and how long—’
‘Pilot, what about Yedo?’ Ginsel asked louder. ‘How long we going to stay here, with these God-cursed monkeys?’
‘Yes, monkeys, by God,’ Sonk said happily. ‘What about our gear and our own folk?’
‘Yes, what about our eters, Pilot? Our people and our doxies?’
‘They’ll be there tomorrow.’ Blackthorne pushed down his loathing. ‘Be patient, I’ll be back as soon as I can. Baccus, you’re in charge.’ He turned to go.
‘I’m going with you,’ Jan Roper said truculently, following him. ‘We’re in harbor so we take precedence and I want some arms.’
Blackthorne turned on him and a dozen swords left their scabbards, ready to kill Jan Roper. ‘One more word out of you and you’re a dead man.’ The tall, lean merchant flushed and came to a halt. ‘You curb your tongue near these samurai because any one of them’ll take your head before I can stop them just because of your goddamned bad manners—let alone anything else! They’re touchy, and near you I’m getting touchy, and you’ll get arms when you need them. Understand?’
Jan Roper nodded sullenly and backed off. The samurai were still menacing but Blackthorne quieted them, and ordered them, on pain of death, to leave his crew alone. ‘I’ll be back soon.’ He walked down the gangway and got into the skiff, Uraga and another samurai following. Chisato, the captain, went up to Jan Roper, who quailed under the menace, bowed, and backed away.
When they were well away from the ship Blackthorne thanked Uraga for catching the traitor.
‘Please, no thanks. It was only duty.’
Blackthorne said in Japanese so that the other man could understand, ‘Yes, duty. But your koku change now. Now not twenty, now one hundred a year.’
‘Oh, Sire, thank you. I don’t deserve it. I was only doing my duty and I must—’
‘Speak slowly. Don’t understand.’
Uraga apologized and said it slower.
Blackthorne praised him again, then settled more comfortably in the stern of the boat, his exhaustion overcoming him. He forced his eyes open and glanced back at his ship to reassure himself she was well placed. Van Nekk and the others were at the gunwale and he was sorry that he had brought them aboard though he knew he had had no option. Without them the journey would not have been safe.
Mutinous scum, he thought. What the hell do I do about them? All my vassals know about the eta village and they’re all as disgusted as. . . . Christ Jesus, what a mess! Karma, neh?
He slept. As the skiff nosed into the shore near the pier he awoke. At first he could not remember where he was. He had been dreaming he was back in the castle in Mariko’s arms, just like last night.
Last night they had been lying in half-sleep after loving, Fujiko a party to the loving, Chimmoko on guard, when Yabu and his samurai had pounded on the door post. The evening had begun so pleasingly. Fujiko had also discreetly invited Kiku, and never had he seen her more beautiful and exuberant. As bells ended the Hour of the Boar, Mariko had punctually arrived. There had been merriment and saké but soon Mariko had shattered the spell.
‘So sorry, but you’re in great danger, Anjin-san.’ She explained, and when she had added what Gyoko had said about not trusting Uraga, both Kiku and Fujiko were equally perturbed.
‘Please don’t worry. I’ll watch him, never fear,’ he had reassured them.
Mariko had continued, ‘Perhaps you should watch Yabu-sama too, Anjin-san.’
‘What?’
‘This afternoon I saw the hatred in your face. So did he.’
‘Never mind,’ he had said. ‘Shigata ga nai, neh?‘
‘No. So sorry, it was a mistake. Why did you call your men off when they had Yabu-sama surrounded at first? Surely that was a bad mistake too. They would have killed him quickly and your enemy would have been dead without risk to you.’
‘That wouldn’t have been right, Mariko-san. So many men against one. Not fair.’
Mariko had explained to Fujiko and Kiku what he had said. ‘Please excuse me, Anjin-san, but we all believe that is a very dangerous way of thinking and beg you to forsake it. It’s quite wrong and very naïve. Please excuse me for being so blunt. Yabu-san will destroy you.’
‘No. Not yet. I’m still too important to him. And to Omi-san.’
‘Kiku-san says, please tell the Anjin-san to beware of Yabu—and this Uraga. The Anjin-san may find it difficult to judge ‘importance’ here, neh?‘
‘Yes, I agree with Kiku-san,’ Fujiko had said.
Later Kiku had left to go and entertain Toranaga. Then Mariko broke the peace in the room again. ‘Tonight I must say sayonara, Anjin-san. I am leaving at dawn.’
‘No, there’s no need now,’ he had said. ‘That can all be changed now. I’ll see Toranaga tomorrow. Now that I’ve permission to leave, I’ll take you to Osaka. I’ll get a galley, or coastal boat. At Nagasa—’
‘No, Anjin-san. So sorry, I must leave as ordered.’ No amount of persuasion would touch her.
He had felt Fujiko watching him in the silence, his heart aching with the thought of Mariko leaving. He had looked across at Fujiko. She asked them to excuse her for a moment. She closed the shoji behind her and they were alone and they knew that Fujiko would not return, that they were safe for a little time. Their loving was urgent and violent. Then there were voices and footsteps and barely enough time to become composed before Fujiko joined them through the inner door and Yabu strode in, bringing Toranaga’s orders for an immediate, secret departure. ‘—Yokohama, then Osaka for a brief stop, Anjin-san, on again to Nagasaki, back to Osaka, and home here again! I’ve sent for your crew to report to the ship.’
Excitement had rushed through him at this heaven-sent victory. ‘Yes, Yabu-san. But Mariko-san—Mariko-san go Osaka also, neh? Better with us—quicker, safer, neh?‘
‘Not possible, so sorry. Must hurry. Come along! Tide—understand ‘tide,’ Anjin-san?’
‘Hai, Yabu-san. But Mariko-san go Osaka—’
‘So sorry, she has orders like we have orders. Mariko-san! Explain to him. Tell him to hurry!’
Yabu had been inflexible, and so late at night it was impossible to go to Toranaga to ask him to rescind the order. There had been no time or privacy to talk any more with Mariko or Fujiko, other than to say formal good-bys. But they would meet soon in Osaka. ‘Very soon, Anjin-san,’ Mariko had said. . . .
‘Lord God, don’t let me lose her,’ Blackthorne said, the sea gulls cawing above the beach, their cries intensifying his loneliness.
‘Lose who, Sire?’
Blackthorne came back into reality. He pointed at the distant ship. ‘We call ships her—we think of ships as female, not male. Wakarimasu ka?‘
‘Hai.’
Blackthorne could still see the tiny figures of his crew and his insoluble dilemma confronted him once more. You’ve got to have them aboard, he said to himself, and more like them. And the new men’ll not take kindly to samurai either, and they’ll be Catholic as well, most of them. God in heaven, how to control them all? Mariko was right. Near Catholics I’m a dead man.
‘Even me, Anjin-san,’ she had said last night.
‘No, Mariko-chan. Not you.’
‘You said we’re your enemy, this afternoon.’
‘I said most Catholics are my enemies.’
‘They will kill you if they can.’
‘Yes. But thou . . . will we truly meet in Osaka?’
‘Yes. I love thee. Anjin-san, remember, beware of Yabu-san. . . .’
They were all right about Yabu, Blackthorne thought, whatever he says, whatever he promises. I made a bad mistake calling my men off when he was trapped. That bastard’ll cut my throat as soon as I’ve outlived my usefulness, however much he pretends otherwise. And yet Yabu’s right too: I need him. I’ll never get into Nagasaki and out again without protection. He could surely help to persuade Toranaga. With him leading two thousand more fanatics, we could lay waste all Nagasaki and maybe even Macao. . . .
Madonna! Alone I’m helpless.
Then he remembered what Gyoko had told Mariko about Uraga, about not trusting him. Gyoko was wrong about him, he thought. What else is she wrong about?
