Shogun (150 page)

“
Konbanwa
, Anjin-san.”

“Mariko-san!” She was as radiant as ever.

“
Konbanwa,”
he said, then in Latin, nonchalantly, “Beware of this Gray man—he understands,” continuing instantly in Portuguese to give her time to cover, “yes, I don’t understand how you can be so beautiful after so little sleep.” He took her arm and put her back to the captain, guiding her nearer the parapet. “Look, there’s Kiritsubo-san!”

“Thank you. Yes—yes, I’m … thank you.”

“Why don’t you wave to Kiritsubo-san?”

She did as she was asked and called out her name. Kiri saw them and waved back.

After a moment, relaxed again and in control, Mariko said, “Thank you, Anjin-san. You’re very clever and very wise.” She greeted the captain casually and wandered to a ledge and sat down, first making sure that the seat was clean. “It’s going to be a fine day,
neh?”

“Yes. How did you sleep?”

“I didn’t, Anjin-san. Kiri and I chatted the last of the night away and I saw the dawn come. I love dawns. You?”

“My rest was disturbed but—”

“Oh, so sorry.”

“I’m fine now—really. You’re leaving now?”

“Yes, but I’ll be back at noon to collect Kiri-san and the Lady Sazuko.” She turned her face away from the captain and said in Latin, “Thou. Remember the Inn of the Blossoms?”

“Assuredly. How could I forget?”

“If there is a delay … tonight will be thus—as perfect and as peace-filled.”

“Ah, that that could be possible. But I would prefer thee safely on thy way.”

Mariko continued in Portuguese. “Now I must go, Anjin-san. You will please excuse me?”

“I’ll take you to the gate.”

“No, please. Watch me from here. You and the
captain
can watch from here,
neh?”

“Of course,” Blackthorne said at once, understanding. “Go with God.”

“And thee.”

He stayed on the parapet. While he waited sunlight fell into the forecourt, thrusting the shadows away. Mariko appeared below. He saw her greet Kiri and Yoshinaka and they chatted together, no enemy Grays near them. Then they bowed. She looked up at him, shading her eyes, and waved gaily. He waved back. The gates were pushed aside and, with Chimmoko a few discreet paces behind her, she walked out, accompanied by her escort of ten Browns. The gates swung closed once more. For a moment she was lost from view. When she reappeared, fifty Grays from the swarm outside their walls had surrounded them as a further honor guard. The cortege marched away down the sunless avenue. He watched her until she had turned the far corner. She never looked back.

“Go eat now, Captain,” he said.

“Yes, of course, Anjin-san.”

Blackthorne went to his own quarters and ate rice, pickled vegetables, and broiled chunks of fish, followed by early fruit from Kyushu—crisp small apples, apricots, and hard-fleshed plums. He savored the tart fruit and the cha.

“More, Anjin-san?” the servant asked.

“No, thank you.” He offered fruits to his guards and they were accepted gratefully, and when they had finished, he went back to the sunny battlements again. He would have liked to examine the priming of his concealed pistol but he thought it better not to draw attention to it. He had checked it once in the night as best he could under the sheet, under the mosquito net. But without actually seeing, he could not be sure of the tamping or the flint.

There’s nothing more you can do, he thought. You’re a puppet. Be patient, Anjin-san, your watch ends at noon.

He gauged the height of the sun. It will be the beginning of the two-hour period of the Snake. After the Snake comes the Horse. In the middle of the Horse is high noon.

Temple bells throughout the castle and the city tolled the beginning of the Snake and he was pleased with his accuracy. He noticed a small stone on the battlement floor. He went forward and picked up the stone and placed it carefully on a ledge of an embrasure in the sun, then leaned back once more, propping his feet comfortably, and stared at it.

Grays were watching his every movement. The captain frowned. After a while he said, “Anjin-san, what’s the significance of the stone?”

“Please?”

“The stone. Why stone, Anjin-san?”

“Ah! I watch stone grow.”

“Oh so sorry, I understand,” the captain replied apologetically. “Please excuse me for disturbing you.”

Blackthorne laughed to himself, and turned his gaze back to the stone. “Grow, you bastard,” he said. But as much as he cursed it, ordered it, or cajoled it, it would not grow.

Do you really expect to see a rock growing? he asked himself. No, of course not, but it passes the time and promotes tranquillity. You can’t have enough
wa. Neh?

Eeeeee, where’s the next attack coming from? There’s no defense against an assassin if the assassin is prepared to die. Is there?

Rodrigues checked the priming of a musket he had taken at random from the rack beside the stern cannon. He found the flint was worn and pitted and therefore dangerous. Without a word he hurled the musket at the gunner. The man just managed to catch it before the stock smashed into his face.

“Madonna, Senhor Pilot,” the man cried out, “there’s no need—”

“Listen, you motherless turd, the next time I find anything wrong with a musket or cannon during your watch, you’ll get fifty lashes and lose three months’ pay. Bosun!”

“Yes, Pilot?” Pesaro, the bosun, heaved his bulk nearer and scowled at the young gunner.

“Turn out both watches! Check every musket and cannon, everything. Only God knows when we’ll need ’em.”

“I’ll see to it, Pilot.” The bosun shoved his face at the gunner.
“I’ll piss in your grog tonight, Gomez, for all the extra work an’ you’d better lap it up with a smile. Get to work!”

There were eight small cannon amidships on the main deck, four port and four starboard and a bowchaser. Enough to beat off any uncannoned pirates but not enough to press home an attack. The small frigate was two-masted, called the
Santa Luz.

Rodrigues waited until the crews were at their tasks, then turned away and leaned on the gunwale. The castle glinted dully in the sun, the color of old pewter, except for the donjon with its blue and white walls and golden roofs. He spat into the water and watched the spittle to see if it would reach the jetty pilings as he hoped or go into the sea. It went into the sea. “Piss,” he muttered to no one, wishing he had his own frigate, the
Santa Maria
, under him right now. God-cursed bad luck that she’s in Macao just when we need her.

“What’s amiss, Captain-General?” he had asked a few days ago at Nagasaki when he’d been routed out of his warm bed in his house that overlooked the city and the harbor.

“I’ve got to get to Osaka at once,” Ferriera had said, plumed and arrogant as any bantam cock, even at this early hour. “An urgent signal’s arrived from dell’Aqua.”

“What’s the matter now?”

“He didn’t say—just that it was vital to the future of the Black Ship.”

“Madonna, what mischief’re they up to now? What’s vital? Our ship’s as sound as any ship afloat, her bottom’s clean and rigging perfect. Trade’s better than we ever imagined and on time, the monkeys’re behaving themselves, pigarse Harima’s confident, and—” He stopped as the thought exploded in his brain. “
The Ingeles! He’s put to sea?”

“I don’t know. But if he has …”

Rodrigues had stared out of the great harbor mouth, half expecting to see
Erasmus
already blockading there, showing the hated flag of England, waiting there like a rabid dog against the day they’d have to put to sea for Macao and home. “Jesu, Mother of God and all saints, let that not happen!”

“What’s our fastest way? Lorcha?”

“The
Santa Luz
, Captain-General. We can sail within the hour. Listen, the Ingeles can do nothing without men. Don’t forget—” “Madonna, you listen, he can speak their jibberish now, eh? Why
can’t he use monkeys, eh? There are enough Jappo pirates to crew him twenty times over.”

“Yes, but not gunners and not sailors as he’d need ’em—he’s not got time to train Jappos. By next year maybe, but not against us.”

“Why in the name of the Madonna and the saints the priests gave him one of their dictionaries I’ll never know. Meddling bastards! They must’ve been possessed by the Devil! It’s almost as though the Ingeles is protected by the Devil!”

“I tell you he’s just clever!”

“There are many who’ve been here for twenty years and can’t speak a word of Jappo gibberish, but the Ingeles can, eh? I tell you he’s given his soul to Satan, and in return for the black arts he’s protected. How else do you explain it? How many years’ve you been trying to talk their tongue and you even live with one?
Leche
, he could easily use Jappo pirates.”

“No, Captain-General, he’s got to get men from here and we’re waiting for him and you’ve already put anyone suspect in irons.”

“With twenty thousand cruzados in silver and a promise about the Black Ship, he can buy all the men he needs, including the jailers and the God-cursed jail around them.
Cabron!
Perhaps he can buy you, too.”

“Watch your tongue!”

“You’re the motherless, milkless Spaniard, Rodrigues! It’s your fault he’s alive, you’re responsible. Twice you let him escape!” The Captain-General had squared up to him in rage. “You should have killed him when he was in your power.”

“Perhaps, but that’s froth on my life’s wake,” Rodrigues had said bitterly. “I went to kill him when I could.”

“Did you?”

“I’ve told you twenty times. Have you no ears! Or is Spanish dung as usual in your ears as well as in your mouth!” His hand had reached for his pistol and the Captain-General had drawn his sword, then the frightened Japanese girl was between them. “Prees, Rod-san, no angers—no quarre’, prees! Christian, prees!”

The blinding rage had fallen off both of them, and Ferriera had said, “I tell you before God, the Ingeles must be Devil-spawned—I almost killed you, and you me, Rodrigues. I see it clearly now. He’s put a spell on all of us—particularly you!”

Now in the sunshine at Osaka, Rodrigues reached for the crucifix
he wore around his neck and he prayed a desperate prayer that he be protected from all warlocks and his immortal soul kept safe from Satan.

Isn’t the Captain-General right, isn’t that the only answer, he reasoned again, filled with foreboding. The Ingeles’ life is charmed. Now he’s an intimate of the archfiend Toranaga, now he’s got his ship back and the money back and
wako
, in spite of everything, and he does speak like one of them and that’s impossible so quickly even with the dictionary, but he did get the dictionary and priceless help. Jesus God and Madonna, take the Evil Eye off me!

“Why’d you give the Ingeles the dictionary, Father?” he had asked Alvito at Mishima. “Surely you should have delayed that?”

“Yes, Rodrigues,” Father Alvito had told him confidently, “and I needn’t have gone out of my way to help him. But I’m convinced there’s a chance of converting him. I’m so sure. Toranaga’s finished now…. It’s just one man and a soul. I have to try to save him.”

Priests, Rodrigues thought.
Leche
on all priests. But not on dell’Aqua and Alvito. Oh, Madonna, I apologize for all my evil thoughts about him and the Father Alvito. Forgive me and bury the Ingeles somehow before I have him in my sights. I do not wish to kill him because of my Holy Oath, even though, before Thee, I know he must die quickly….

The duty helmsman turned the hourglass and rang eight bells. It was high noon.

Mariko was walking up the crowded sunlit avenue toward the gates in the cul-de-sac. Behind her was a body guard of ten Browns. She wore a pale green kimono and white gloves and a wide-brimmed dark green traveling hat tied with a golden net scarf under her chin, and she shaded herself with an iridescent sun shade. The gates swung open and stayed open.

It was very quiet in the avenue. Grays lined both sides and all the battlements. She could see the Anjin-san on their own battlements, Yabu beside him, and in the courtyard the waiting column with Kiri
there, and the Lady Sazuko. All the Browns were in full ceremonials in the forecourt under Yoshinaka, except twenty who stood on the battlements with Blackthorne and two to each window overlooking the forecourt.

Unlike the Grays, none of the Browns had armor or carried bows. Swords were their only weapons.

Many women, samurai women, were also watching, some from the windows of other fortified houses that lined the avenue, and some from battlements. Others stood in the avenue among the Grays, a few gaily dressed children with them. All of the women carried sunshades though some wore samurai swords, as was their right if they wished.

Kiyama was near the gate with half a hundred of his own men, not Grays.

“Good day, Sire,” Mariko said to him, and bowed. He bowed back and she passed through the archway.

“Hello, Kiri-chan, Sazuko-chan. How pretty you both look! Is everything ready?”

“Yes,” they replied with false cheeriness.

“Good.” Mariko got into her open palanquin and sat, stiff-backed. “Yoshinaka-san! Please begin.”

At once the captain limped forward and shouted the orders. Twenty Browns formed up as a vanguard and moved off. Porters picked up Mariko’s curtainless palanquin and followed the Browns through the gate, Kiri’s and Lady Sazuko’s close behind, the young girl holding her infant in her arms.

When Mariko’s palanquin came into the sunlight outside their walls, a captain of Grays stepped forward between the vanguard and the palanquin, and stood directly in her way. The vanguard stopped abruptly. So did the porters.

“Please excuse me,” he said to Yoshinaka, “but may I see your papers?”

“So sorry, Captain, but we require none,” Yoshinaka replied in the great silence.

“So sorry, but the Lord General Ishido. Governor of the Castle, Captain of the Heir’s Bodyguard, with the approval of the Regents, has instituted orders throughout the castle which have to be complied with.”

Mariko said formally, “I am Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro and I have been ordered by my liege Lord, Lord Toranaga, to escort his ladies to meet him. Kindly let us pass.”