He stood in the shallows and looked out at the charred skeleton of his ship aground and heeled over, awash in the small surf, seventy yards seaward, masts gone, decks gone, everything gone, except for the keel and the ribs of her chest that jutted to the sky.
‘The monkeys tried to beach her,’ Vinck said sullenly.
‘No. The tide took her there.’
‘For Christ’s sweet sake, why say that, Pilot? If you’ve a God-cursed fire and you’re near the God-cursed shore you beach her to fight it there! Jesus, even these piss-arsed bastards know that!’ Vinck spat on the sand. ‘Monkeys! You should never’ve left her to them. What’re we going to do now? How we going to get home? You should’ve left her at Yedo safe, an’ us safe, with our eters.’
The whine in Vinck’s voice irritated Blackthorne. Everything about Vinck irritated him now. Three times in the last week he had almost told his vassals to knife Vinck quietly and throw him overboard to put him out of his misery when the weeping and bewailing and accusations had become too much. But he had always curbed his temper and gone aloft or below to seek out Yabu. Near Yabu, Vinck made no sound, petrified of him, and rightly. Aboard it had been easy to contain himself. Here, shamed before his ship’s nakedness, it was not easy.
‘Perhaps they beached her, Johann,’ he said, weary unto death.
‘You bet the muck-eating bastards beached her! But they didn’t put out the fire, God curse them all to hell! Should never’ve let Jappos on her, stinking, piss-arsed monkeys. . . .’
Blackthorne shut his ears and concentrated on the galley. She was moored downwind to the wharf, a few hundred paces away, by Yokohama village. The lean-tos of the Musket Regiment were still scattered about the foreshore and foothills, men drilling, hurrying, a pall of anxiety over all of them. It was a warm sunny day with a fair wind blowing. His nose caught a scent of mimosa perfume. He could see Kiri and Lady Sazuko in conversation under orange sunshades on the forepoop and he wondered if the perfume came from them. Then he watched Yabu and Naga walking up and down the wharf, Naga talking and Yabu listening, both very tense. Then he saw them look across at him. He sensed their restlessness.
When the galley had rounded the point two hours ago, Yabu had said, ‘Why go look closer, Anjin-san? Ship dead, neh? All finished. Go Yedo! Get ready for war. No time now.’
‘So sorry—stop here. Must look close. Please.’
‘Go Yedo! Ship dead—finished. Neh?‘
‘You want, you go. I swim.’
‘Wait. Ship dead, neh?‘
‘So sorry, please stop. Little time. Then Yedo.’
At length Yabu had agreed and they had docked and Naga had met them. ‘So sorry, Anjin-san. Neh?‘ Naga had said, his eyes bleary from sleeplessness.
‘Yes, so sorry. Please what happen?’
‘So sorry, don’t know. Not honto. I was not here, understand? I was ordered Mishima few days. When come back, men say earthquake at night—all happen at night, understand? You understand ‘earthquake,’ Anjin-san?’
‘Understand. Yes. Please continue.’
‘So little earthquake. At night. Some men say tidal wave arrive, some say not tidal wave but just one big wave, storm wave. There was a storm that night, neh? Little tai-fun. You understand ‘tai-fun‘?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ah, so sorry. Very dark night. They say big wave come. They say oil lamps on deck break. Ship catch fire, neh? Everything fire, quick, very—’
‘But guards, Naga-san? Where deck men?’
‘Very dark. Fire very quick, understand? So sorry. Shigata ga nai, neh?‘ he added hopefully.
‘Where deck men, Naga-san? I leave guard. Neh?‘
‘When I returned one day later, very sorry, neh? Ship finished, still burning there in shallows—near shore. Ship finished. I get all men from ship and all shore patrol of that night. I ask them to report. No one is sure what happened. ‘ Naga’s face darkened. ‘I order them to salvage—to bring everything possible, understand? Everything. All up there now in camp.’ He pointed to the plateau. ‘Under guard. My guards. Then I put them to death and rushed back to Mishima to report to Lord Toranaga.’
‘All of them? All to death?’
‘Yes—they failed in their duty.’
‘What Lord Toranaga say?’
‘Very angry. Very right to be angry, neh? I offer seppuku. Lord Toranaga refuse permission. Eeeeee! Lord Toranaga very angry, Anjin-san.’ Naga waved a nervous hand around the foreshore. ‘Whole regiment in disgrace, Anjin-san. Everyone. All chief officers here in disgrace, Anjin-san. Sent to Mishima. Fifty-eight seppuku already.’
Blackthorne had thought about that number and he wanted to shriek, five thousand or fifty thousand can’t repay the loss of my ship! ‘Bad,’ his mouth was saying. ‘Yes, very bad.’
‘Yes. Better go Yedo. Today. War today, tomorrow, next day. Sorry.’
Then Naga had spoken intently with Yabu for a few moments, and Blackthorne, dull-witted, hating the foul-sounding words, hating Naga and Yabu and all of them, could barely follow him though he saw Yabu’s unease increase. Naga turned again to him with an embarrassed finality. ‘So sorry, Anjin-san. Nothing more I could do. Honto, neh?‘
Blackthorne had forced himself to nod. ‘Honto. Domo, Naga-san. Shigata ga nai.’ He had made some excuse and left them to walk down to his ship, to be alone, no longer trusting himself to contain his insane rage, knowing that there was nothing he could do, that he would never know any more of the truth, that whatever the truth he had lost his ship, that the priests had somehow managed to pay men, or cajole men, or threaten them into this filthy desecration. He had fled from Yabu and Naga, walking slowly and erect, but before he could escape the wharf, Vinck had rushed after him and begged not to be left behind. Seeing the man’s abject cringing fear, he had agreed and allowed him to follow. But he had closed his mind to him.
Then, suddenly, down by the shore, they had come on the grisly remains of the heads. More than a hundred, hidden from the wharf by dunes and stuck on spears. Seabirds rose up in a white shrieking cloud as they approached, and settled back to continue ravaging and quarreling once they had hurried past.
Now he was studying the hulk of his ship, one thought obsessing him: Mariko had seen the truth and had whispered the truth to Kiyama or to the priests: ‘Without his ship the Anjin-san’s helpless against the Church. I ask you to leave him alive, just kill the ship. . . .’
He could hear her saying it. She was right. It was such a simple solution to the Catholics’ problem. Yes. But any one of them could have thought of the same thing. And how did they breach the four thousand men? Whom did they bribe? How?
It doesn’t matter who. Or how. They’ve won.
God help me, without my ship I’m dead. I can’t help Toranaga and his war will swallow us up.
‘Poor ship,’ he said. ‘Forgive me—so sad to die so uselessly. After all those leagues.’
‘Eh?’ Vinck said.
‘Nothing,’ he said. Poor ship, forgive me. It was never my bargain with her or anyone. Poor Mariko. Forgive her too.
‘What did you say, Pilot?’
‘Nothing. I was just thinking out loud.’
‘You said something. I heard you say something, for Christ’s sake!’
‘For Christ’s sake, shut up!’
‘Eh? Shut up, is it? We’re marooned with these piss eaters for the rest of our lives! Eh?’
‘Yes!’
‘We’re to grovel to these God-cursed heathen shit-heads for the rest of our muck-eating lives and how long’ll that be when all they talk about’s war war war? Eh?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, is it?’ Vinck’s whole body trembling, and Blackthorne readied. ‘It’s your fault. You said to come to the Japans and we come and how many died coming here? You’re to blame!’
‘Yes. Sorry, but you’re right!’
‘Sorry are you, Pilot? How’re we going to get home? That’s your God-cursed job, to get us home! How you going to do that? Eh?’
‘I don’t know. Another of our ships’ll get here, Johann. We’ve just got to wait anoth—’
‘Wait? How long’re we to wait? Five muck-plagued years, twenty? Christ Jesus, you said yourself all these shitheads’re at war now!‘ Vinck’s mind snapped. ‘They’re going to chop off our heads and stick them like those there and the birds’ll eat us. . . .’ A paroxysm of insane laughter shook him and he reached into his ragged shirt. Blackthorne saw the pistol butt and it would have been easy to smash Vinck to the ground and take the pistol but he did nothing to defend himself. Vinck waved the pistol in his face, dancing around him with drooling, lunatic glee. Blackthorne waited unafraid, hoping for the bullet, then Vinck took to his heels down the beach, the seabirds scudding into the air, mewing and cawing out of his path. Vinck ran for a frantic hundred paces or more, then collapsed, ending up on his back, his legs still moving, arms waving, mouthing obscenities. After a moment he turned on his belly with a last shriek, facing Blackthorne, and froze. There was a silence.
When Blackthorne came up to Vinck the pistol was leveled at him, the eyes staring with demented antagonism, the lips pulled back from his teeth. Vinck was dead.
Blackthorne closed the eyes and picked him up and slung him over his shoulder and walked back. Samurai were running toward him, Naga and Yabu at their head.
‘What happened, Anjin-san?’
‘He went mad.’
‘Is that so? Is he dead?’
‘Yes. First burial, then Yedo. All right?’
‘Hai.’
Blackthorne sent for a shovel and asked them to leave him for a while and he buried Vinck above the water line on a crest that overlooked the wreck. He said a service over the grave and planted a cross in the grave that he fashioned out of two pieces of driftwood. It was so easy to say the service. He had spoken it too many times. On this voyage alone over a hundred times for his own crew since they’d left Holland. Only Baccus van Nekk and the boy Croocq survived now; the others had come from other ships—Salamon the mute, Jan Roper, Sonk the cook, Ginsel the sailmaker. Five ships and four hundred and ninety-six men. And now Vinck. All gone now except the seven of us. And for what?
To circumnavigate the globe? To be the first?
‘I don’t know,’ he said to the grave. ‘But that won’t happen now.’
He made everything tidy. ‘Sayonara, Johann.’ Then he walked down to the sea and swam naked to the wreck to purify himself. He had told Naga and Yabu that this was their custom after burying one of their men on land. The captain had to do it in private if there was no one else and the sea was the purifier before their God, which was the Christian God but not quite the same as the Jesuit Christian God.
He hung on to one of the ship’s ribs and saw that barnacles were already clustering, sand already silting over the keel plate, three fathoms below. Soon the sea would claim her and she would vanish. He looked around aimlessly. Nothing to salvage, he told himself, expecting nothing.
He swam ashore. Some of his vassals waited with fresh clothes. He dressed and put his swords in his sash and walked back. Near the wharf one of his vassals pointed. ‘Anjin-san!’
A carrier pigeon, pursued by a hawk, was clattering wildly for the safety of the home coop in the village. The coop was in the attic of the tallest building, set back from the seashore on a slight rise. With a hundred yards to go, the hawk on station, high above its prey, closed its wings and plummeted. The stoop hit with a burst of feathers but it was not perfect. The pigeon fell screeching as though mortally wounded, then, near the ground, recovered and fled for home. She scrambled through a hole in the coop to safety, the hawk ek-ek-ek-ing with rage a few paces behind, and everyone cheered, except Blackthorne. Even the pigeon’s cleverness and bravery did not touch him. Nothing touched anymore.
‘Good, neh?’ one of his vassals said, embarrassed by his master’s dourness.
‘Yes.’ Blackthorne went back to the galley. Yabu was there and the Lady Sazuko, Kiri and the captain. Everything was ready. ‘Yabu-san. Ima Yedo ka?‘ he asked.
But Yabu did not answer and no one noticed him. All eyes were on Naga, who was hurrying toward the village. A pigeon handler came out of the building to meet him. Naga broke the seal and read the slip of paper. ‘Galley and all aboard to stay at Yokohama until I arrive.’ It was signed Toranaga.
The horsemen came rapidly over the lip of the hill in the early sun. First were the fifty outriders and scouts of the advance guard led by Buntaro. Next came the banners. Then Toranaga. After him was the bulk of the war party under the command of Omi. Following them were Father Alvito Tsukku-san and ten acolytes in a tight group and, after them, a small rear guard, among them hunters with falcons on their gloves, all hooded except one great yellow-eyed goshawk. All samurai were heavily armed and wore chain cuirasses and cavalry battle armor.
Toranaga rode easily, his spirit lightened now, a newer and stronger man, and he was glad to be near the end of his journey. It was two and a half days since he had sent the order to Naga to keep the galley at Yokohama and had left Mishima on this forced march. They had come very fast, picking up fresh horses every twenty ri or so. At one station where horses were not available the samurai in charge was removed, his stipend given to another, and he was invited to commit seppuku or shave his head and become a priest. The samurai chose death.
The fool had been warned, Toranaga thought, the whole Kwanto’s mobilized and on a war footing. Still, that man wasn’t a total waste, he told himself. At least the news of that example will flash the length of my domains and there’ll be no more unnecessary delays.
So much yet to do, he thought, his mind frantic with facts and plans and counterplans. In four days it will be the day, the twenty-second day of eighth month, the Month for Viewing the Moon. Today, at Osaka, the courtier Ogaki Takamoto formally goes to Ishido and regretfully announces that the Son of Heaven’s visit to Osaka has to be delayed for a few days due to ill health.
It had been so easy to manipulate the delay. Although Ogaki was a Prince of the Seventh Rank and descended from the Emperor Go-Shoko, the ninety-fifth of the dynasty, he was impoverished like all members of the Imperial Court. The Court possessed no revenue of its own. Only samurai possessed revenue and, for hundreds of years, the Court had had to exist on a stipend—always carefully controlled and lean—granted it by the Shōgun, Kwampaku, or ruling Junta of the day. So Toranaga had humbly and very cautiously assigned ten thousand koku yearly to Ogaki, through intermediaries, to donate to needy relatives as Ogaki himself wished, saying with due humility that, being Minowara and therefore also descended from Go-Shoko, he was delighted to be of service and trusted that the Exalted would take care of his precious health in so treacherous a climate as Osaka’s, particularly around the twenty-second day.
Of course there was no guarantee that Ogaki could persuade or dissuade the Exalted, but Toranaga had surmised that the advisers to the Son of Heaven, or the Son of Heaven himself, would welcome an excuse to delay—hopefully, at length to cancel. Only once in three centuries had a ruling Emperor ever left his sanctuary at Kyoto. That had been four years ago at the invitation of the Taikō to view the cherry blossoms near Osaka Castle, coincident with his resigning the Kwampaku title in favor of Yaemon—and so, by implication, putting the Imperial Seal on the succession.
Normally no daimyo, even Toranaga, would have dared to make such an offer to any member of the Court because it insulted and usurped the prerogative of a superior—in this case the Council—and would instantly be construed as treason, as it rightly was. But Toranaga knew he was already indicted for treason.
Tomorrow Ishido and his allies will move against me. How much more time have I left? Where should the battle be? Odawara? Victory depends only on the time and the place, and not on the number of men. They’ll outnumber me three to one at the very least. Never mind, he thought, Ishido’s coming out of Osaka Castle! Mariko pried him out. In the chess game for power I sacrificed my queen but Ishido’s lost two castles.
Yes. But you lost more than a queen in the last play. You lost a ship. A pawn can become a queen—but not a ship!
They were riding downhill in a quick, bone-jarring trot. Below was the sea. They turned a corner on the path and there was Yokohama village, with the wreck just offshore. He could see the plateau where the Musket Regiment were drawn up in battle review with their horses and equipment, muskets in their holsters, other samurai, equally well armed, lining his route as an honor guard nearer the shore. On the outskirts of the village the villagers were kneeling in neat rows waiting to honor him. Beyond them was the galley, the sailors waiting with their captain. On either side of the wharf, fishing boats were beached in meticulous array and he made a mental note to reprimand Naga. He had ordered the regiment ready for instant departure, but to stop fishermen or peasants from fishing or working the fields was irresponsible.
He turned in his saddle and called up a samurai, ordering him to tell Buntaro to go ahead and see that all was safe and prepared. ‘Then go to the village and dismiss all the villagers to their work, except the headman.’
‘Yes, Sire.’ The man dug in his spurs and galloped away.
Now Toranaga was near enough to the plateau to distinguish faces. The Anjin-san and Yabu, then Kiri and the Lady Sazuko. His excitement quickened.
Buntaro was galloping down the track, his great bow and two full quivers on his back, half a dozen samurai close behind him. They swung off the track and came out onto the plateau. Instantly he saw Blackthorne and his face became even sterner. Then he reined in and looked around cautiously. A roofed reviewing stand bearing a single cushion was facing the regiment. Another, smaller and lower, was nearby. Kiri and the Lady Sazuko waited under it. Yabu, as the most senior officer, was at the head of the regiment, Naga on his right, the Anjin-san on his left. All seemed safe, and Buntaro waved the main party onward. The advance guard trotted up, dismounted, and spread protectively around the reviewing stand. Then Toranaga rode into the arena. Naga lifted the battle standard on high. At once the four thousand men shouted, ‘Toranagaaaaaaa!’ and bowed.
Toranaga did not acknowledge their salute. In absolute silence he took stock. He noticed that Buntaro was covertly watching the Anjin-san. Yabu was wearing the sword he had given him, but was very nervous. The Anjin-san’s bow was correct and motionless, the haft of his sword broken. Kiri and his youngest consort were kneeling, their hands flat on the tatamis, their faces demurely lowered. His eyes softened momentarily, then he gazed disapprovingly at the regiment. Every man was still bowing. He did not bow back, just nodded curtly and he felt the tremor that went through the samurai as they straightened up again. Good, he thought, dismounting nimbly, glad that they feared his vengeance. A samurai took his reins and led his horse away as he turned his back on the regiment and, sweat stained like all of them in the humidity, he walked over to his ladies. ‘So, Kiri-san, welcome home!’
She bowed again joyously. ‘Thank you, Sire. I never thought I’d have the pleasure of seeing you ever again.’
‘Nor I, Lady.’ Toranaga let a glimmer of his happiness show. He glanced at the young girl. ‘So, Sazuko-san? Where’s my son?’
‘With his wet nurse, Sire,’ she replied breathlessly, basking in his open favor.
‘Please send someone to fetch our child at once.’
‘Oh please, Sire, with your permission, may I bring him to you myself?’
‘Yes, yes, if you wish.’ Toranaga smiled and watched her go for a moment, liking her greatly. Again he looked at Kiri. ‘Is everything all right with you?’ he asked for her ears alone.
‘Yes, Lord. Oh, yes—and seeing you so strong fills me with gladness.’
‘You’ve lost weight, Kiri-chan, and you’re younger than ever.’
‘Ah, so sorry, Sire, it’s not true. But thank you, thank you.’
He grinned at her. ‘Whatever it is then, it suits you. Tragedy—loneliness—being forsaken. . . I’m pleased to see you, Kiri-chan.’
‘Thank you, Sire. I’m so happy that her obedience and sacrifice unlocked Osaka. It would please her greatly, Sire, to know she was successful.’
‘First I have to deal with this rabble, then later we’ll talk. There’s lots to talk about, neh?‘
‘Yes, oh yes!’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘The Son of Heaven will be delayed, neh?‘
‘That would be wise. Neh?‘
‘I have a private message from Lady Ochiba.’
‘Ah? Good! But it will have to wait.’ He paused. ‘The Lady Mariko, she died honorably? By choice and not by accident or mistake?’
‘Mariko-sama chose death. It was seppuku. If she hadn’t done what she did, they would have captured her. Oh, Sire, she was so marvelous all those evil days. So brave. And the Anjin-san. If it hadn’t been for him, she would have been captured and shamed. We would all have been captured and shamed.’
‘Ah yes, the ninja.’ Toranaga exhaled, his eyes became jet and she shivered in spite of herself. ‘Ishido’s got much to answer for, Kiri-chan. Please excuse me.’ He stalked over to the reviewing stand and sat, stern and menacing again. His guards surrounded him.
‘Omi-san!’
‘Yes, Sire?’ Omi came forward and bowed, seeming older than before, leaner now.
‘Escort the Lady Kiritsubo to her quarters, and make sure mine are adequate. I’ll stay here tonight.’
Omi saluted and walked off and Toranaga was glad to see that the sudden change of plan produced not even a flicker in Omi’s eyes. Good, he thought, Omi’s learning, or his spies have told him I’ve secretly ordered Sudara and Hiro-Matsu here so I could not possibly leave until tomorrow.
Now he turned his full attention on the regiment. At his signal Yabu came forward and saluted. He returned the salutation politely. ‘So, Yabu-san! Welcome back.’
‘Thank you, Sire. May I say how happy I am you avoided Ishido’s treachery.’
‘Thank you. And you too. Things did not go well at Osaka. Neh?‘
‘No. My harmony is destroyed, Sire. I had hoped to lead the retreat from Osaka bringing you both your ladies safely, and your son, and also the Lady Toda, the Anjin-san, and seamen for his ship. Unfortunately, so sorry, we were both betrayed—there and here.’
‘Yes.’ Toranaga looked at the wreck below that was washed by the sea. Anger flickered across his face and everyone readied for the outburst. But none came. ‘Karma,’ he said. ‘Yes, karma, Yabu-san. What can one do against the elements? Nothing. Negligence is another thing. Now, about Osaka, I want to hear everything that happened, in detail—as soon as the regiment’s dismissed and I’ve bathed.’
‘I have a report for you in writing, Sire.’
‘Good. Thank you, but first I’d prefer you to tell it to me.’
‘Is it true the Exalted won’t go to Osaka?’
‘What the Exalted decides is up to the Exalted.’
‘Do you wish to review the regiment before I dismiss them?’ Yabu asked formally.
‘Why should I give them that honor? Don’t you know they’re in disgrace, the elements notwithstanding?’ he added thinly.
‘Yes, Sire. So sorry. Terrible.’ Yabu was trying unsuccessfully to read Toranaga’s mind. ‘I was appalled when I heard what had happened. It seems almost impossible.’
‘I agree.’ Toranaga’s face darkened and he looked at Naga and beyond him to the massed ranks. ‘I still fail to understand how there could be such incompetence. I needed that ship!’
Naga was agitated. ‘Please excuse me, Sire, but do you wish me to make another inquiry?’
‘What can you do now that you haven’t already done?’
‘I don’t know, Sire, nothing Sire, please excuse me.’
‘Your investigation was thorough, neh?‘
‘Yes, Sire. Please forgive my stupidity.’
‘It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t here. Or in command.’ Impatiently Toranaga turned back to Yabu. ‘It’s curious, even sinister, that the shore patrol, the camp patrol, the deck patrol, and the commander were all Izu men on that night—except for the Anjin-san’s few ronin.’
‘Yes, Sire. Curious, but not sinister, so sorry. You were perfectly correct to hold the officers responsible, as Naga-san was to punish the others. So sorry, I made my own investigations as soon as I arrived but I’ve no more information, nothing to add. I agree it’s karma—karma helped somehow by manure-eating Christians. Even so, I apologize.’
‘Ah, you say it was sabotage?’
‘There’s no evidence, Sire, but a tidal wave and simple fire seem too easy an explanation. Certainly any fire should have been doused. Again I apologize.’
‘I accept your apologies but, meanwhile, please tell me how I replace that ship. I need that ship!’
Yabu could feel acid in his stomach. ‘Yes, Sire. I know. So sorry, it cannot be replaced, but the Anjin-san told us during the voyage that soon other fighting ships from his country will come here.’
‘How soon?’
‘He doesn’t know, Sire.’
‘A year? Ten years? I’ve barely got ten days.’
‘So sorry, I wish I knew. Perhaps you should ask him, Sire.’
Toranaga looked directly at Blackthorne for the first time. The tall man was standing alone, the light gone from his face. ‘Anjin-san!’
‘Yes, Sire?’
‘Bad, neh? Very bad.’ Toranaga pointed at the wreck below. ‘Neh?‘
‘Yes, very bad, Sire.’
‘How soon other ships come?’
‘My ships, Sire?’
‘Yes.’
‘When—when Buddha says.’
‘Tonight we talk. Go now. Thank you for Osaka. Yes. Go to galley—or village. Talk tonight. Understand?’
‘Yes. Talk tonight, yes, understand, Sire. Thank you. When tonight, please?’
‘I’ll send a messenger. Thank you for Osaka.’
‘My duty, neh? But I do little. Toda Mariko-sama give everything. Everything for Toranaga-sama.’
‘Yes.’ Gravely Toranaga returned the bow. The Anjin-san began to leave, but stopped. Toranaga glanced at the far end of the plateau. Tsukku-san and his acolytes had just ridden in and were dismounting there. He had not granted the priest an interview at Mishima—though he had sent word to him at once about the ship’s destruction—and had deliberately kept him waiting, pending the outcome of Osaka and the safe arrival of the galley at Anjiro. Only then had he decided to bring the priest here with him to allow the confrontation to happen, at the right time.
Blackthorne began to head for the priest.
‘No, Anjin-san. Later, not now. Now go village!’ he ordered.
‘But, Sire! That man kill my ship! He’s the enemy!’
‘You will go there!’ Toranaga pointed to the village below. ‘You will wait there please. Tonight we will talk.’
‘Sire, please, that man—’
‘No. You will go to the galley,’ Toranaga said. ‘You will go now. Please.’ This is better than breaking any falcon to the fist, he thought excitedly, momentarily distracted, putting his will to bear on Blackthorne. It’s better because the Anjin-san’s just as wild and dangerous and unpredictable, always an unknown quantity, unique, unlike any man I’ve ever known.
From the corner of his eyes he noticed Buntaro had moved into the Anjin-san’s path, ready and anxious to force obedience. How foolish, Toranaga thought in passing, and so unnecessary. He kept his eyes on Blackthorne. And dominated him.
‘Yes. Go now, Lord Toranaga. So sorry. Go now,’ Blackthorne said. He wiped the sweat off his face and started to go.
‘Thank you, Anjin-san,’ Toranaga said. He did not allow his triumph to show. He watched Blackthorne obediently walk away—violent, strong, murderous, but controlled now by the will of Toranaga.
Then he changed his mind. ‘Anjin-san!’ he called out, deciding it was time to release the jesses and let the killer fly free. The final test. ‘Listen, go there if you wish. I think it better not to kill the Tsukku-san. But if you want to kill him—kill. Better not to kill.’ He said it slowly and carefully, and repeated it. ‘Wakarimasu ka?‘
‘Hai.’
Toranaga looked into the incredibly blue eyes that were filled with an unthinking animosity and he wondered if this wild bird, cast at its prey, would kill or not kill at his whim alone and return to the fist without eating. ‘Wakarimasu ka?‘
‘Hai.’
Toranaga waved his hand in dismissal. Blackthorne turned and stalked off northward. Toward the Tsukku-san. Buntaro moved out of his way. Blackthorne did not seem to notice anyone except the priest. The day seemed to become more sultry.
‘So, Yabu-san. What’s he going to do?’ Toranaga asked.
‘Kill. Of course he’ll kill if he can catch him. The priest deserves to die, neh? All Christian priests deserve to die, neh? All Christians. I’m sure they were behind the sabotage—the priests and Kiyama, though I can’t prove it.’
‘You’ll gamble your life he’ll kill Tsukku-san?’
‘No, Sire,’ Yabu said hastily. ‘No. I wouldn’t. So sorry. He’s barbarian—they’re both barbarian.’
‘Naga-san?’
‘If it were me, I’d kill the priest and all of them, now that I had your permission. I’ve never known anyone openly to hate so much. The last two days the Anjin-san’s been like an insane man, walking up and down, muttering, staring at the wreck, sleeping there curled up on the sand, hardly eating. . . .’ Naga looked after Blackthorne again. ‘I agree it wasn’t just nature that destroyed the ship. I know the priests, somehow they were behind it—I can’t prove it either, but somehow. . . I don’t believe it happened because of the storm.
‘Choose!’
‘He’ll explode. Look at his walk. . . . I think he’ll kill—I hope he’ll kill.’
‘Buntaro-san?’
Buntaro turned back, his heavy jowls unshaven, his brawny legs planted, his fingers on his bow. ‘You advised him not to kill the Tsukku-san so you do not want the priest dead. If the Anjin-san kills or doesn’t kill matters nothing to me, Sire. I care only what matters to you. May I stop him if he begins to disobey you? I can do it easily from this range.’
‘Could you guarantee to wound him only?’
‘No, Sire.’
Toranaga laughed softly and broke the spell. ‘The Anjin-san won’t kill him. He’ll shout and rave or hiss like a snake and rattle his sword and the Tsukku-san will be swollen up with ‘holy’ zeal, completely unafraid, and he’ll hiss back saying, ‘It was an Act of God. I never touched your ship!’ Then the Anjin-san will call him a liar and the Tsukku-san will be filled with more zeal and repeat the claim and swear to the truth in his God’s name and he’ll probably curse him back and they’ll hate each other for twenty lifetimes. No one will die. At least, not now.’
‘How do you know all that, Father?’ Naga exclaimed.
‘I don’t know it for certain, my son. But that’s what I think will happen. It’s always important to take time to study men—important men. Friends and enemies. To understand them. I’ve watched both of them. They’re both very important to me. Neh, Yabu-san?’
‘Yes, Sire,’ Yabu said, suddenly disquieted.
Naga shot a quick glance after Blackthorne. The Anjin-san was still walking with the same unhurried stride, now seventy paces away from the Tsukku-san, who waited at the head of his acolytes, the breeze moving their orange robes.
‘But, Father, neither is a coward, neh? Why doesn’t—how can they back away now with honor?’
‘He won’t kill for three reasons. First, because the Tsukku-san’s unarmed and won’t fight back, even with his hands. It’s against their code to kill an unarmed man—that’s a dishonor, a sin against their Christian God. Second, because he’s Christian. Third, because I decided it was not the time.’
Buntaro said, ‘Please excuse me, but I can understand the third, even the first, but isn’t the real reason for their hate that both believe the other man’s not Christian but evil—a Satan worshiper? Isn’t that what they call it?’
‘Yes, but this Jesus God of theirs taught or was supposed to have taught that you forgive your enemy. That’s being Christian.’
‘That’s stupid, neh?‘ Naga said. ‘To forgive your enemy is stupid.’
‘I agree.’ Toranaga looked at Yabu. ‘It is foolish to forgive an enemy. Neh, Yabu-san?’
‘Yes,’ Yabu agreed.
Toranaga looked northward. The two figures were very close and now, privately, Toranaga was cursing his impetuousness. He still needed both men very much, and there had been no need to risk either of them. He had launched the Anjin-san for personal excitement, not to kill, and he regretted his stupidity. Now he waited, caught up as all of them. But it happened as he had forecast and the clash was short and sharp and spite-filled, even from this distance, and he fanned himself, greatly relieved. He would have dearly liked to have understood what had actually been said, to know if he had been correct. Soon they saw the Anjin-san stride away. Behind him, the Tsukku-san mopped his brow with a colored paper handkerchief.
‘Eeeee!’ Naga uttered in admiration. ‘How can we lose with you in command?’
‘Too easily, my son, if that is my karma.’ Then his mood changed. ‘Naga-san, order all samurai who came back with the galley from Osaka to my quarters.’
Naga hurried away.
‘Yabu-san. I’m pleased to welcome you back safely. Dismiss the regiment—after the evening meal we’ll talk. May I send for you?’
‘Of course. Thank you, Sire.’ Yabu saluted and went off.
Now alone but for guards that he waved out of hearing, Toranaga studied Buntaro. Buntaro was unsettled, as a dog would be when stared at. When he could bear it no longer, he said, ‘Sire?’
‘Once you asked for his head, neh? Neh?‘
‘Yes—yes, Sire.’
‘Well?’
‘He—he insulted me at Anjiro. I’m—I’m still shamed.’
‘I order that shame dismissed.’
‘Then it’s dismissed, Sire. But she betrayed me with him and that cannot be dismissed, not while he’s alive. I’ve proof. I want him dead. Now. He . . . please, his ship’s gone, what use is he now to you, Sire? I ask it as a lifetime favor.’
‘What proof?’
‘Everyone knows. On the way from Yokosé. I talked to Yoshinaka. Everyone knows,’ he added sullenly.
‘Yoshinaka saw her and him together? He accused her?’
‘No. But what he said . . .’ Buntaro looked up, in agony. ‘I know, that is enough. Please, I beg it as a lifetime favor. I’ve never asked anything of you, neh?‘
‘I need him alive. But for him the ninja would have captured her, and shamed her, and therefore you.’
‘A lifetime wish,’ Buntaro said. ‘I ask it. His ship’s gone—he’s, he’s done what you wanted. Please.’
‘I have proof he did not shame you with her.’
‘So sorry, what proof?’
‘Listen. This is for your ears alone—as I agreed with her. I ordered her to become his friend.’ Toranaga bore down on him. ‘They were friends, yes. The Anjin-san worshiped her, but he never shamed you with her, or she with him. At Anjiro, just before the earthquake, when she first suggested going to Osaka to free all the hostages—by challenging Ishido publicly and then forcing a crisis by committing seppuku, whatever he tried to do—on that day I de—’
‘That was planned then?’
‘Of course. Will you never learn? On that day I ordered her divorced from you.’
‘Sire?’
‘Divorced. Isn’t the word clear?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Divorced. She’d driven you insane for years, you’d treated her foully for years. What about your treatment of her foster mother and ladies? Didn’t I tell you I needed her to interpret the Anjin-san, yet you lost your temper and beat her—the truth is you almost killed her that time, neh? Neh?‘
‘Yes—please excuse me.’
‘The time had come to finish that marriage. I ordered it finished. Then.’
‘She asked for divorce?’
‘No. I decided and I ordered it. But your wife begged me to revoke the order. I refused. Then your wife said she would commit seppuku at once without my permission before she would allow you to be shamed in that way. I ordered her to obey. She refused.’ Toranaga continued angrily, ‘Your wife forced me, her liege lord, to withdraw my legal order and made me agree to make my order absolute only after Osaka—both of us knowing that Osaka for her meant death. Do you understand?’
‘Yes—yes, I understand that.’
‘At Osaka the Anjin-san saved her honor and the honor of my ladies and my youngest son. But for him, they and all the hostages at Osaka would still be in Osaka, I’d be dead or in Ikawa Jikkyu’s hands, probably in chains like a common felon!’
‘Please excuse me . . . but why did she do that? She hated me—why should she delay divorce? Because of Saruji?’
‘For your honor. She understood duty. Your wife was so concerned for your honor—even after her death—that part of my agreement was that this was to be a private affair between her and you and myself. No one else would ever know, not the Anjin-san, her son, anyone—not even her Christian priest confessor.’
‘What?’
Toranaga explained it again. At length Buntaro understood clearly and Toranaga dismissed him and then, at long last alone for the moment, he got up and stretched, exhausted by all his labor since he had arrived. The sun was still high though it was afternoon now. His thirst was great. He accepted cold cha from his personal bodyguard, then walked down to the shore. He stripped off his sopping kimono and swam, the sea feeling glorious to him, refreshing him. He swam underwater but did not stay submerged too long, knowing that his guards would be anxious. He surfaced and floated on his back, looking up into the sky, gathering strength for the long night ahead.
Ah, Mariko, he thought, what a wondrous lady you are. Yes, are, because you will certainly live forever. Are you with your Christian God in your Christian heaven? I hope not. That would be a terrible waste. I hope your spirit’s just awaiting Buddha’s forty days for rebirth somewhere here. I pray your spirit comes into my family. Please. But again as a lady—not as a man. We could not afford to have you as a man. You’re much too special to waste as a man.
He smiled. It had happened at Anjiro just as he had told Buntaro, though she had never forced him to rescind his order. ‘How could she force me to do anything I didn’t want?’ he said to the sky. She had asked him dutifully, correctly, not to make the divorce public until after Osaka. But, he assured himself, she would certainly have committed seppuku if I’d refused her. She would have insisted, neh? Of course she would have insisted and that would have ruined everything. By agreeing in advance I merely saved her unnecessary shame and argument, and myself unnecessary trouble—and by keeping it private now, as I’m sure she would have wished it, everyone gains further. I’m glad I conceded, he thought benignly, then laughed aloud. A slight wave chopped over him and he took a mouthful of sea water and choked.
‘Are you all right, Sire?’ an anxious guard, swimming nearby, called out.
‘Yes. Of course yes.’ Toranaga retched again and spat out the phlegm, treading water, and thought, that will teach you to be smug. That’s your second mistake today. Then he saw the wreck. ‘Come on, I’ll race you!’ he called out to his guard.
A race with Toranaga meant a race. Once one of his generals had deliberately allowed him to win, hoping to gain favor. That mistake cost the man everything.
The guard won. Toranaga congratulated him and held onto one of the ribs and waited until his breathing was normal, then he looked around, his curiosity enormous. He swam down and inspected the keel of Erasmus. When he was satisfied he went ashore and returned to the camp, refreshed and ready.
A temporary house had been set up for him in a good position under a wide thatched roof that was supported with strong bamboo posts. Shoji walls and partitions were set on a raised deck flooring of wood and tatamis. Sentries were already stationed, and rooms were also there for Kiri and Sazuko and servants and cooks, joined by a complex of simple paths, raised on temporary pilings.
He saw his child for the first time. Obviously the Lady Sazuko would never have been so impolite as to bring her son back to the plateau at once, fearing that she might intrude in important matters—as she would have done—even though he had happily given her that opportunity.
The child pleased him greatly. ‘He’s a fine boy,’ he boasted, holding the infant with practiced assurance. ‘And, Sazuko, you’re younger and more attractive than ever. We must have more children at once. Motherhood suits you.’
‘Oh, Sire,’ she said, ‘I was afraid I’d never see you again, and never be able to show you your newest son. How are we going to escape the trap . . . Ishido’s armies. . . .’
‘Look what a fine boy he is! Next week I’ll build a shrine in his honor and endow it with . . .’ He stopped and halved the figure he’d first thought of and then halved that again. ‘. . . with twenty koku a year.’
‘Oh, Sire, how generous you are!’
Her smile was guileless. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s enough for a miserable parasite priest to say a few Namu Amida Butsu, neh?‘
‘Oh, yes, Sire. Will the shrine be near the castle in Yedo? Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if it could be on a river or stream?’
He agreed reluctantly even though such a choice plot would cost more than he had wanted to spend on such frippery. But the boy’s fine, I can afford to be generous this year, he thought.
‘Oh, thank you, Sire . . .’ The Lady Sazuko stopped. Naga was hurrying over to where they sat on a shaded veranda.
‘Please excuse me, Father, but your Osaka samurai? How do you want to see them, singly or all together?’
‘Singly.’
‘Yes, Sire. The priest Tsukku-san would like to see you when convenient.’
‘Tell him I’ll send for him as soon as possible.’ Again Toranaga began to talk with his consort but, politely and at once, she asked to be excused, knowing that he wanted to deal with the samurai immediately. He asked her to stay but she begged to be allowed to go and he agreed.
He interviewed the men carefully, sifting their stories, calling a samurai back occasionally, cross-checking. By sunset he knew clearly what had happened, or what they all thought had happened. Then he ate lightly and quickly, his first meal today, and summoned Kiri, sending all guards out of hearing.
‘First tell me what you did, what you saw, and what you witnessed, Kiri-chan.’ Night had fallen before he was satisfied, even though she was perfectly prepared.
‘Eeeeeee,’ he said. ‘That was a near thing, Kiri-chan. Too near.’
‘Yes,’ Kiri replied, her hands folded in her ample lap. Then she added with great tenderness, ‘All gods, great and small, were guarding you, Sire, and us. Please excuse me that I doubted the outcome, doubted you. The gods were watching over us.’
‘It seems that way, yes, very much.’ Toranaga watched the night. The flames of the flares were being wafted by the slight sea breeze that also blew away the night insects and made the evening more comfortable. A fine moon rode the sky and he could see the dark marks on its face and he wondered absently if the dark was land and the rest ice and snow, and why the moon was there, and who lived there. Oh, there are so many things I’d like to know, he thought.
‘Can I ask a question, Tora-chan?’
‘What question, Lady?’
‘Why did Ishido let us go? Really? He needn’t have, neh? If I’d been him I wouldn’t have done it—never. Why?’
‘First tell me the Lady Ochiba’s message.’
‘The Lady Ochiba said, ‘Please tell Lord Toranaga that I respectfully wish there was some way that his differences with the Heir could be resolved. As a token of the Heir’s affection, I’d like to tell Toranaga-sama the Heir has said many times he does not want to lead any armies against his uncle, the Lord of the Kwan—”
‘She said that!’
‘Yes. Oh yes.’
‘Surely she must know—and Ishido—that if Yaemon holds the standard against me I must lose!’
‘That’s what she said, Sire.’
‘Eeeeeee!‘ Toranaga bunched his great calloused fist and banged it on the tatamis. ‘If that’s a real offer and not a trick I’m halfway to Kyoto, and one pace beyond.’
‘Yes,’ Kiri said.
‘What’s the price?’
‘I don’t know. She said nothing more, Sire. That was all the message—apart from good wishes to her sister.’
‘What can I give Ochiba that she doesn’t have already? Osaka’s hers, the treasure’s hers, Yaemon’s always been Heir of the realm for me. This war’s unnecessary. Whatever happens, in eight years Yaemon becomes Kwampaku and inherits the earth, this earth. There’s nothing left to give her.’
‘Perhaps she wants marriage?’
Toranaga shook his head emphatically. ‘No, not her. That woman would never marry me.’
‘It’s the perfect solution, Sire, for her.’
‘She’d never consider it. Ochiba my wife? Four times she begged the Taikō to invite me Onward.’
‘Yes. But that was when he was alive.’
‘I will do anything that would cement the realm, keep the peace, and make Yaemon Kwampaku. Is that what she wants?’
‘It would confirm the succession. That’s her lodestone.’
Again Toranaga stared at the moon, but now his mind was concentrating on the puzzle, reminded again of what Lady Yodoko had said at Osaka. When no immediate answer was forthcoming he put it aside to continue with the more important present. ‘I think she’s up to her tricks again. Did Kiyama tell you that the barbarian ship had been sabotaged?’
‘No, Sire.’
Toranaga frowned. ‘That’s surprising, because he must have known about it then. I told Tsukku-san as soon as I heard—he went through the motions of sending a carrier bird at once, though it would only have confirmed what they already must have known.’
‘Their treachery should be punished, neh? On the instigators as well as the fools who allowed it.’
‘With patience they’ll get their reward, Kiri-san. I hear the Christian priests claim it was an ‘Act of God.”
‘Such hypocrisy! Stupid, neh?‘
‘Yes.’ Very stupid in one way, Toranaga thought, not in another. ‘Well, thank you, Kiri-san. Again I’m delighted you’re safe. We’ll stay here tonight. Now, please excuse me. Send for Yabu-san and when he arrives, bring cha and saké and then leave us alone.’
‘Yes, Sire. May I ask my question now?’
‘The same question?’
‘Yes, Sire. Why did Ishido let us go?’
‘The answer is, Kiri-chan, I don’t know. He made a mistake.’
She bowed and went away contentedly.
It was almost the middle of the night before Yabu left. Toranaga bowed him away as an equal and thanked him again for everything. He had invited him to the secret Council of War tomorrow, had confirmed him as General of the Musket Regiment, and confirmed his Overlordship of Totomi and Suruga in writing—once they were conquered and secured.
‘Now the regiment’s absolutely vital, Yabu-san. You’re to be solely responsible for its strategy and training. Omi-san can be liaison between us. Use the Anjin-san’s knowledge—anything. Neh?‘
‘Yes, that will be perfect, Sire. May I humbly thank you.’
‘You did me a great service bringing my ladies, my son, and the Anjin-san back safely. Terrible about the ship—karma. Perhaps another one will arrive soon. Good night, my friend.’
Toranaga sipped his cha. He was feeling very tired now.
‘Naga-san?’
‘Sire?’
‘Where’s the Anjin-san?’
‘By the wreck with some of his vassals.’
‘What’s he doing there?’
‘Just staring at it.’ Naga became uneasy under his father’s piercing gaze. ‘So sorry, shouldn’t he be there, Sire?’
‘What? Oh no, it doesn’t matter. Where’s Tsukku-san?’
‘In one of the guest houses, Sire.’
‘Have you told him you want to become Christian next year?’
‘Yes, Sire.’
‘Good. Fetch him.’
In moments Toranaga saw the tall, lean priest approach under the flares—his taut face deeply lined, his black tonsured hair without a fleck of gray—and he was reminded suddenly of Yokosé. ‘Patience is very important, Tsukku-san. Neh?‘
‘Yes, always. But why did you say that, Sire?’
‘Oh, I was thinking about Yokosé. How everything was very different then, such a little time ago.’
‘Ah, yes. God moves in curious ways, yes, Sire. I’m so very pleased you’re still within your own borders.’
‘You wanted to see me?’ Toranaga asked, fanning himself, secretly envying the priest his flat stomach and his gift of tongues.
‘Only to apologize for what happened.’
‘What did the Anjin-san say?’
‘Many angry words—and accusations that I’d burned his ship.’
‘Did you?’
‘No, Sire.’
‘Who did?’
‘It was an Act of God. The storm came and the ship was burned.’
‘It wasn’t an Act of God. You say you didn’t help it, you or any priest, or any Christian?’
‘Oh, I helped, Sire. I prayed. We all did. Before God, I believe that ship was an instrument of the Devil—I’ve said so to you many times. I know it wasn’t your opinion and again I ask your forgiveness for opposing you on this. But perhaps this Act of God helped and did not hinder.’
‘Oh? How?’
‘The Father-Visitor’s no longer distracted, Sire. Now he can concentrate on Lords Kiyama and Onoshi.’
Toranaga said bluntly, ‘I’ve heard all this before, Tsukku-san. What practical help can the chief Christian priest give me?’
‘Sire, put your trust in—’ Alvito caught himself, then said sincerely, ‘Please excuse me, Sire, but I feel with all my heart that if you put your trust in God, He will help you.’
‘I do, but more in Toranaga. Meanwhile I hear Ishido, Kiyama, Onoshi, and Zataki have gathered their legions. Ishido will have three or four hundred thousand men in the field against me.’
‘The Father-Visitor’s implementing his agreement with you, Sire. At Yokosé I reported failure, now I think there’s hope.’
‘I can’t use hope against swords.’
‘Yes, but God can win against any odds.’
‘Yes. If God exists he can win against any odds.’ Then Toranaga’s voice edged even more. ‘What hope are you referring to?’
‘I don’t know, actually, Sire. But isn’t Ishido coming against you? Out of Osaka Castle? Isn’t that another Act of God?’
‘No. But you understand the importance of that decision?’
‘Oh yes, very clearly. I’m sure the Father-Visitor understands that also.’
‘You say this is his work?’
‘Oh, no, Sire. But it is happening.’
‘Perhaps Ishido will change his mind and make Lord Kiyama commander-in-chief and skulk at Osaka and leave Kiyama and the Heir opposing me?’
‘I can’t answer that, Sire. But if Ishido leaves Osaka it will be a miracle. Neh?‘
‘Are you seriously claiming this to be another Act of your Christian God?’
‘No. But it could be. I believe nothing happens without His knowledge.’
‘Even after we’re dead we still may never know about God.’ Then Toranaga added abruptly, ‘I hear the Father-Visitor’s left Osaka,’ and was pleased to see a shadow cross the Tsukku-san’s face. The news had come the day they’d left Mishima.
‘Yes,’ the priest was saying, his apprehension increasing. ‘He’s gone to Nagasaki, Sire.’
‘To conduct a special burial for Toda Mariko-sama?’
‘Yes. Ah, Sire, you know so much. We’re all clay on the potter’s wheel you spin.’
‘That’s not true. And I don’t like idle flattery. Have you forgotten?’
‘No, Sire, please excuse me. It wasn’t meant to be.’ Alvito became even more on guard, almost wilting. ‘You’re opposed to the service, Sire?’
‘It doesn’t matter to me. She was a very special person and her example merits honor.’
‘Yes, Sire. Thank you. The Father-Visitor will be very pleased. But he thinks it matters quite a lot.’
‘Of course. Because she was my vassal and a Christian her example won’t go unnoticed—by other Christians. Or by those considering conversion. Neh?‘
‘I would say it will not go unnoticed. Why should it? On the contrary she merits great praise for her self-sacrifice.’
‘In giving her life that others might live?’ Toranaga asked cryptically, not mentioning seppuku or suicide.
‘Yes.’
Toranaga smiled to himself, noticing that Tsukku-san had never once mentioned the other girl, Kiyama Achiko, her bravery or death or burial, also with great pomp and ceremony. He hardened his voice. ‘And you know of no one who ordered or assisted in the sabotage of my ship?’
‘No, Sire. Other than by prayer.’
‘I hear your church building in Yedo is going well.’
‘Yes, Sire. Again thank you.’
‘Well, Tsukku-san, I hope the labors of the High Priest of the Christians will bear fruit soon. I need more than hope and I’ve a very long memory. Now, please, I require your services as interpreter.’ Instantly he sensed the priest’s antagonism. ‘You have nothing to fear.’
‘Oh, Sire, I’m not afraid of him, please excuse me, I just don’t want to be near him.’
Toranaga got up. ‘I require you to respect the Anjin-san. His bravery is unquestioned and he saved the Mariko-sama’s life many times. Also he’s understandably almost berserk at the moment—the loss of his ship, neh?‘
‘Yes, yes, so sorry.’
Toranaga led the way toward the shore, guards with flares lighting their way. ‘When do I have your High Priest’s report on the gun-running incident?’
‘As soon as he gets all the information from Macao.’
‘Please ask him to speed his inquiries.’
‘Yes, Sire.’
‘Who were the Christian daimyos concerned?’
‘I don’t know, so sorry, or even if any were involved.’
‘A pity you don’t know, Tsukku-san. That would save me a lot of time. There are more than a few daimyos who would be interested to know the truth of that.’
Ah, Tsukku-san, Toranaga thought, but you do know and I could press you into a corner now and, while you would twist and thrash around like a cornered snake, at length I’d order you to swear by your Christian God, and then if you did you would have to say: ‘Kiyama, Onoshi, and probably Harima.’ But the time’s not ready. Yet. Nor ready for you to know I believe you Christians had nothing to do with the sabotage. Nor did Kiyama, or Harima, or even Onoshi. In fact, I’m sure. But it still wasn’t an Act of God. It was an Act of Toranaga.
Yes.
‘But why?’ you might ask.
Kiyama wisely refused the offer in my letter that Mariko gave him. He had to be given proof of my sincerity. What else could I give but the ship—and the barbarian—that terrified you Christians? I expected to lose both, though I only gave one. Today in Osaka, intermediaries will tell Kiyama and the chief of your priests this is a free gift from me to them, proof of my sincerity: that I am not opposed to the Church, only Ishido. It is proof, neh?
Yes, but can you ever trust Kiyama? you will ask quite rightly.
No. But Kiyama is Japanese first and Christian second. You always forget that. Kiyama will understand my sincerity. The gift of the ship was absolute, like Mariko’s example and the Anjin-san’s bravery.
And how did I sabotage the ship? you might want to know.
What does that matter to you, Tsukku-san? It is enough that I did. And no one the wiser, except me, a few trusted men, and the arsonist. Him? Ishido used ninja, why shouldn’t I? But I hired one man and succeeded. Ishido failed.
‘Stupid to fail,’ he said aloud.
‘Sire?’ Alvito asked.
‘Stupid to fail to—bottle up such an incendiary secret as smuggled muskets,’ he said gruffly, ‘and to incite Christian daimyos into rebellion against their liege lord, the Taikō. Neh?‘
‘Yes, Sire. If it’s true.’
‘Oh, I’m sure it’s true, Tsukku-san.’ Toranaga let the conversation lapse now that Tsukku-san was clearly agitated and ready to be a perfect interpreter.
They were down by the shore now and Toranaga led, sure-footed in the semi-darkness, brushing his weariness aside. As they passed the heads on the shore he saw Tsukku-san cross himself in fear and he thought, how stupid to be so superstitious—and to be afraid of nothing.
The Anjin-san’s vassals were already on their feet, bowing, long before he arrived. The Anjin-san was not. The Anjin-san was still sitting staring bleakly out to sea.
‘Anjin-san,’ Toranaga called out gently.
‘Yes, Sire?’ Blackthorne came out of his reverie and got to his feet. ‘Sorry, you want talk now?’
‘Yes. Please. I bring Tsukku-san because I want talk clearly. Understand? Quick and clear?’
‘Yes.’ Toranaga saw the fixity of the man’s eyes in the light of the flares and his utter exhaustion. He glanced at Tsukku-san. ‘Does he understand what I said?’ He watched the priest talk, and listened to the evil-sounding language. The Anjin-san nodded, his accusatory gaze never faltering.
‘Yes, Sire,’ the priest said.
‘Now interpret for me, please, Tsukku-san, as before. Everything exact: Listen, Anjin-san, I’ve brought Tsukku-san so we can talk directly and quickly without missing the meaning of any word. It’s so important to me that I ask your patience. I think it’s best this way.’
‘Yes, Sire.’
‘Tsukku-san, first swear before your Christian God nothing he says will ever pass your lips to another. Like a confessional. Neh? As sacred! To me and to him.’
‘But Sire, this isn’t—’
‘This you will do. Now. Or I will withdraw all my support, forever, from you and your Church.’
‘Very well, Sire. I agree. Before God.’
‘Good. Thank you. Explain to him your agreement.’ Alvito obeyed, then Toranaga settled himself on the sand dunes and waved his fan against the encroaching night bugs. ‘Now, please tell me, Anjin-san, what happened at Osaka.’
Blackthorne began haltingly, but gradually his mind began to relive it all and soon the words gushed and Father Alvito had difficulty in keeping up. Toranaga listened in silence, never interrupting the flow, just adding cautious encouragement when needed, the perfect listener.
Blackthorne finished at dawn. By then Toranaga knew everything there was to tell—everything the Anjin-san was prepared to tell, he corrected himself. The priest knew it also but Toranaga was sure there was nothing in it the Catholics or Kiyama could use against him or against Mariko or against the Anjin-san, who, by now, hardly noticed the priest.
‘You’re sure the Captain-General would have put you to the stake, Anjin-san?’ he asked again.
‘Oh, yes. If it hadn’t been for the Jesuit. I’m a heretic in his eyes—fire’s supposed to ‘cleanse’ your soul somehow.’
‘Why did the Father-Visitor save you?’
‘I don’t know. It was something to do with Mariko-sama. Without my ship I can’t touch them. Oh, they would have thought of that themselves but perhaps she gave them a clue how to do it.’
‘What clue? What would she know about burning ships?’
‘I don’t know. Ninja got into the castle. Perhaps ninja got through the men here. My ship was sabotaged. She saw the Father-Visitor at the castle the day she died. I think she told him how to burn Erasmus—in return for my life. But I have no life without my ship, Sire. None.’
‘You’re wrong, Anjin-san. Thank you, Tsukku-san,’ Toranaga said in dismissal. ‘Yes, I appreciate your labor. Please get some rest now.’
‘Yes, Sire. Thank you.’ Alvito hesitated. ‘I apologize for the Captain-General. Men are born in sin, most stay in sin though they’re Christians.’
‘Christians are born in sin, we’re not. We’re a civilized people who understand what sin really is, not illiterate peasants who know no better. Even so, Tsukku-san, if I’d been your Captain-General I would not have let the Anjin-san go while I had him in my grasp. It was a military decision, a good one. I think he’ll live to regret he didn’t insist—and so will your Father-Visitor.’
‘Do you want me to translate that, Sire?’
‘That was for your ears. Thank you for your help.’ Toranaga returned the priest’s salutation and sent men to accompany him back to his house, then turned to Blackthorne. ‘Anjin-san. First swim.’
‘Sire?’
‘Swim!’ Toranaga stripped and went into the water in the growing light. Blackthorne and the guards followed. Toranaga swam strongly out to sea, then turned and circled the wreck. Blackthorne came after him, refreshed by the chill. Soon Toranaga returned ashore. Servants had towels ready now, fresh kimonos and cha, saké and food.
‘Eat, Anjin-san.’
‘So sorry, not hungry.’
‘Eat!’
Blackthorne took a few mouthfuls, then retched. ‘So sorry.’
‘Stupid. And weak. Weak like a Garlic Eater. Not like hatamoto. Neh?‘
‘Sire?’
Toranaga repeated it. Brutally. Then he pointed at the wreck, knowing that now he had Blackthorne’s full attention. ‘That’s nothing. Shigata ga nai. Unimportant. Listen: Anjin-san is hatamoto, neh? Not Garlic Eater. Understand?’
‘Yes, so sorry.’
Toranaga beckoned his bodyguard, who handed him the sealed scroll. ‘Listen, Anjin-san, before Mariko-sama left Yedo, she gave me this. Mariko-sama say if you live after Osaka—if you live, understand—she ask me to give this to you.’
Blackthorne took the proffered scroll and, after a moment, broke the seal.
‘What message say, Anjin-san?’ Toranaga asked.
Mariko had written in Latin: ‘Thou. I love thee. If this is read by thee then I am dead in Osaka and perhaps, because of me, thy ship is dead too. I may sacrifice this most prized part of thy life because of my Faith, to safeguard my Church, but more to save thy life which is more precious to me than everything—even the interest of my Lord Toranaga. It may come to a choice, my love: thee or thy ship. So sorry, but I choose life for thee. This ship is doomed anyway—with or without thee. I will concede thy ship to thine enemy so that thou may live. This ship is nothing. Build another. This thou canst do—were you not taught to be a builder of ships as well as a navigator of ships? I believe Lord Toranaga will give thee all the craftsmen, carpenters, and metal craftsmen necessary—he needs you and your ships—and from my personal estate I have bequeathed thee all the money necessary. Build another ship and build another life, my love. Take next year’s Black Ship, and live forever. Listen, my dear one, my Christian soul prays to see thee again in a Christian heaven—my Japanese hara prays that in the next life I will be whatever is necessary to bring thee joy and to be with thee wherever thou art. Forgive me—but thy life is all important. I love thee.’
‘What message say, Anjin-san?’
‘So sorry, Sire. Mariko-sama say this ship not necessary. Say build new ship. Say—’
‘Ah! Possible? Possible, Anjin-san?’
Blackthorne saw the daimyo‘s flashing interest. ‘Yes. If get . . .’ He could not remember the word for carpenter.
‘If Toranaga-sama give men, ship-making men, neh? Yes. I can.’ In his mind the new ship began to take shape. Smaller, much smaller than Erasmus. About ninety to a hundred tons would be all he could manage, for he had never overseen or designed a complete ship by himself before, though Alban Caradoc had certainly trained him as a shipwright as well as pilot. God bless you, Alban, he exulted. Yes, ninety tons to start with. Drake’s Golden Hind was thereabouts and remember what she endured! I can get twenty cannon aboard and that would be enough to . . .’ Christ Jesus, the cannon!’
He whirled and peered at the wreck, then saw Toranaga and all of them staring at him and realized he’d been talking English to them. ‘Ah, so sorry, Sire. Think too quick. Big guns—there, in sea, neh? Must get quick!’
Toranaga spoke to his men, then faced Blackthorne again. ‘Samurai say everything from ship at camp. Some things fished from sea, shallow, here at low tide, neh? Now in camp. Why?’
Blackthorne felt light-headed. ‘Can make ship. If have big guns can fight enemy. Can Toranaga-sama get gunpowder?’
‘Yes. How many carpenters? How much need?’
‘Forty carpenters, blacksmiths, oak for timbers, do you have oak here? Then I’ll need iron, steel, I’ll set up a forge and I’ll need a master . . .’ Blackthorne realized he was talking in English again. ‘Sorry. I write on paper. Carefully. And I think carefully. Please, you give men to help?’
‘All men, all money. At once. I need ship. At once! How fast can you build it?’
‘Six months from the day we lay keel.’
‘Oh, not faster?’
‘No, so sorry.’
‘Later we talk some more, Anjin-san. What else Mariko-sama say?’
‘Little more, Sire. Say give money to help ship, her money. Say also sorry if . . . if she help my enemy destroy ship.’
‘What enemy? What way destroy ship?’
‘Not say who—or how, Sire. Nothing clear. Just sorry if. Mariko-sama say sayonara. Hope seppuku serves Lord Toranaga.’
‘Ah yes, serves greatly, neh?‘
‘Yes.’
Toranaga smiled at him. ‘Glad all good now, Anjin-san. Eeeeee, Mariko-sama was right. Don’t worry about that!’ Toranaga pointed at the hulk. ‘Build new ship at once. A fighting ship, neh? You understand?’
‘Understand very much.’
‘This new ship . . . could this new ship fight the Black Ship?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ah! Next year’s Black Ship?’
‘Possible.’
‘What about crew?’
‘Please?’
‘Seamen—gunners?’
‘Ah! By next year can train my vassals as gunners. Not seamen.’
‘You can have the pick of all the seamen in the Kwanto.’
‘Then next year possible.’ Blackthorne grinned. ‘Is next year possible? War? What about war?’
Toranaga shrugged. ‘War or no war—still try, neh? That’s your prey—understand ‘prey’? And our secret. Between you and me only, neh? The Black Ship.’
‘Priests will soon break secret.’
‘Perhaps. But this time no tidal wave or tai-fun, my friend. You will watch and I will watch.’
‘Yes.’
‘First Black Ship, then go home. Bring me back a navy. Understand?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘If I lose—karma. If not, then everything, Anjin-san. Everything as you said. Everything—Black Ship, ambassador, treaty, ships! Understand?’
‘Yes. Oh yes! Thank you.’
‘Thank Mariko-sama. Without her . . .’ Toranaga saluted him warmly, for the first time as an equal, and went away with his guards. Blackthorne’s vassals bowed, completely impressed with the honor done to their master.
Blackthorne watched Toranaga leave, exulting, then he saw the food. The servants were beginning to pack up the remains. ‘Wait. Now food, please.’
He ate carefully, slowly and with good manners, his own men quarreling for the privilege of serving him, his mind roving over all the vast possibilities that Toranaga had opened up for him. You’ve won, he told himself, wanting to dance a hornpipe with glee. But he did not. He reread her letter once more. And blessed her again.
‘Follow me,’ he ordered, and led the way toward the camp, his brain already designing the ship and her gunports. Jesus God in heaven, help Toranaga to keep Ishido out of the Kwanto and Izu and please bless Mariko, wherever she is, and let the cannon not be rusted up too much. Mariko was right: Erasmus was doomed, with or without me. She’s given me back my life. I can build another life and another ship. Ninety tons! My ship’ll be a sharp-nosed, floating battle platform, as sleek as a greyhound, better than the Erasmus class, her bowsprit jutting arrogantly and a lovely figurehead just below, and her face’ll look just like her, with her lovely slanting eyes and high cheekbones. My ship’ll . . . Jesus God, there’s a ton of stuff I can salvage from the wreck! I can use part of the keel, some of the ribs—and there’ll be a thousand nails around, and the rest of the keel’ll make bindings and braces and everything I need . . . if I’ve the time.
Yes. My ship’ll be like her, he promised himself. She’ll be trim and miniature and perfect like a Yoshitomo blade, and that’s the best in the world, and just as dangerous. Next year she’ll take a prize twenty times her own weight, like Mariko did at Osaka, and she’ll rip the enemy out of Asia. And then, the following year or the one after, I’ll sail her up the Thames to London, her pockets full of gold and the seven seas in her wake. ‘The Lady will be her name,’ he said aloud.
