Shogun (59 page)

But his shout did not come through the laughter.

Then a cry of alarm from the bow lookout. And the laughter died.

Toranaga said calmly, “Can we break through them, Captain?” He was watching the grouped fishing boats five hundred yards ahead, and the tempting passage they had left between them.

“No, Sire.”

“We’ve no alternative,” Yabu said. “There’s nothing else we can do.” He glared aft at the massed Grays who waited on the shore and the jetty, their faint, jeering insults riding on the wind.

Toranaga and Yabu were on the forepoop now. The drum had been silenced and the galley wallowed in a light sea. All aboard waited to see what would be decided. They knew that they were bottled tight. Ashore disaster, ahead disaster, to wait disaster. The net would come closer and closer and then they would be captured. If need be, Ishido could wait days.

Yabu was seething. If we’d rushed for the harbor mouth directly we’d boarded instead of wasting useless time over Buntaro, we’d be safely out to sea by now, he told himself. Toranaga’s losing his wits. Ishido will believe I betrayed him. There’s nothing I can do—unless we can fight our way out, and even then I’m committed to fight for
Toranaga against Ishido. Nothing I can do. Except give Ishido Toranaga’s head.
Neh?
That would make you a Regent and bring you the Kwanto,
neh?
And then with six months of time and the musket samurai, why not even President of the Council of Regents? Or why not the big prize! Eliminate Ishido and become Chief General of the Heir, Lord Protector and Governor of Osaka Castle, the controlling general of all the legendary wealth in the donjon, with power over the Empire during Yaemon’s minority, and afterwards power second only to Yaemon. Why not?

Or even the biggest prize of all. Shōgun. Eliminate Yaemon, then you’ll be Shōgun.

All for a single head and some benevolent gods!

Yabu’s knees felt weak as his longing soared. So easy to do, he thought, but no way to take the head and escape—yet.

“Order attack stations!” Toranaga commanded at last.

As Yabu gave the orders and samurai began to prepare, Toranaga turned his attention to the barbarian, who was still near the forepoop, where he had stopped when the alarm was given, leaning against the short mainmast.

I wish I could understand him, Toranaga thought. One moment so brave, the next so weak. One moment so valuable, the next so useless. One moment killer, the next coward. One moment docile, the next dangerous. He’s man and woman,
Yang
and
Yin
. He’s nothing but opposites, and unpredictable. Toranaga had studied him carefully during the escape from the castle, during the ambush and after it. He had heard from Mariko and the captain and others what had happened during the fight aboard. He had witnessed the astonishing anger a few moments ago and then, when Buntaro had been sent off, he had heard the shout and had seen through veiled eyes the stretched ugliness on the man’s face, and then, when there should have been laughter, only anger.

Why not laughter when an enemy’s outsmarted? Why not laughter to empty the tragedy from you when
karma
interrupts the beautiful death of a true samurai, when
karma
causes the useless death of a pretty girl? Isn’t it only through laughter that we become one with the gods and thus can endure life and can overcome all the horror and waste and suffering here on earth? Like tonight, watching all those brave men meet their fate here, on this shore, on this gentle night, through a
karma
ordained a thousand lifetimes ago, or perhaps even one.

Isn’t it only through laughter we can stay human?

Why doesn’t the pilot realize he’s governed by
karma
too, as I am, as we all are, as even this Jesus the Christ was, for, if the truth were known, it was only his
karma
that made him die dishonored like a common criminal with other common criminals, on the hill the barbarian priests tell about.

All
karma
.

How barbaric to nail a man to a piece of wood and wait for him to die. They’re worse than the Chinese, who are pleasured by torture.

“Ask him, Yabu-san!” Toranaga said.

“Sire?”

“Ask him what to do. The pilot. Isn’t this a sea battle? Haven’t you told me the pilot’s a genius at sea? Good, let’s see if you’re right. Let him prove it.”

Yabu’s mouth was a tight cruel line and Toranaga could feel the man’s fear and it delighted him.

“Mariko-san,” Yabu barked. “Ask the pilot how to get out—how to break through those ships.”

Obediently Mariko moved away from the gunwale, the girl still supporting her. “No, I’m all right now, Fujiko-san,” she said. “Thank you.” Fujiko let her go and watched Blackthorne distastefully.

Blackthorne’s answer was short.

“He says ‘with cannon,’ Yabu-san,” Mariko said.

“Tell him he’ll have to do better than that if he wants to retain his head!”

“We must be patient with him, Yabu-san,” Toranaga interrupted. “Mariko-san, tell him politely, ‘Regrettably we have no cannon. Isn’t there another way to break out? It’s impossible by land.’ Translate exactly what he replies. Exactly.”

Mariko did so. “I’m sorry, Lord, but he says, no. Just like that. ‘No.’ Not politely.”

Toranaga moved his sash and scratched an itch under his armor. “Well then,” he said genially, “the Anjin-san says cannon and he’s the expert, so cannon it is. Captain, go there!” His blunt, calloused finger pointed viciously at the Portuguese frigate. “Get the men ready, Yabu-san. If the Southern Barbarians won’t lend me their cannon, then you will have to take them. Won’t you?”

“With very great pleasure,” Yabu said softly.

“You were right, he is a genius.”

“But you found the solution, Toranaga-san.”

“It’s easy to find solutions given the answer,
neh?
What’s the solution to Osaka Castle, Ally?”

“There isn’t one. In that the Taikō was perfect.”

“Yes. What’s the solution to treachery?”

“Of course, ignominious death. But I don’t understand why you should ask me that.”

“A passing thought—Ally.” Toranaga glanced at Blackthorne. “Yes, he’s a clever man. I have great need of clever men. Mariko-san, will the barbarians give me their cannon?”

“Of course. Why shouldn’t they?” It had never occurred to her that they would not. She was still filled with anxiety over Buntaro. It would have been so much better to allow him to die back there. Why risk his honor? She wondered why Toranaga had ordered Buntaro away by land at the very last moment. Toranaga could just as easily have ordered him to swim to the boat. It would have been much safer and there was plenty of time. He could even have ordered it when Buntaro had first reached the end of the jetty. Why wait? Her most secret self answered that their lord must have had a very good reason to have waited and to have so ordered.

“And if they don’t? Are you prepared to kill Christians, Mariko-san?” Toranaga asked. “Isn’t that their most impossible law? Thou shalt not kill?”

“Yes, it is. But for you, Lord, we will go gladly into hell, my husband and my son and I.”

“Yes. You’re true samurai and I won’t forget that you took up a sword to defend me.”

“Please do not thank me. If I helped, in any minor way, it was my duty. If anyone is to be remembered, please let it be my husband or my son. They are more valuable to you.”

“At the moment you’re more valuable to me. You could be even more valuable.”

“Tell me how, Sire. And it will be done.”

“Put this foreign God away.”

“Sire?” Her face froze.

“Put your God away. You have one too many loyalties.”

“You mean become apostate, Sire? Give up Christianity?”

“Yes, unless you can put this God where He belongs—in the back of your spirit, not in the front.”

“Please excuse me, Sire,” she said shakily, “but my religion has never interfered with my loyalty to you. I’ve always kept my religion a private matter, all the time. How have I failed you?”

“You haven’t yet. But you will.”

“Tell me what I must do to please you.”

“The Christians may become my enemies,
neh?”

“Your enemies are mine, Lord.”

“The priests oppose me now. They may order all Christians to war on me.”

“They can’t, Sire. They’re men of peace.”

“And if they continue to oppose me? If Christians war on me?”

“You will never have to fear my loyalty. Never.”

“This Anjin-san may speak the truth and your priests with false tongues.”

“There are good priests and bad priests, Sire. But you are my liege lord.”

“Very well, Mariko-san,” Toranaga said. “I’ll accept that. You’re ordered to become friends with this barbarian, to learn all he knows, to report everything he says, to learn to think like him, to ‘confess’ nothing about what you’re doing, to treat all priests with suspicion, to report everything the priests ask you or say to you. Your God must fit in between, elsewhere—or not at all.”

Mariko pushed a thread of hair out of her eyes. “I can do all that, Sire, and still remain Christian. I swear it.”

“Good. Swear it by this Christian God.”

“Before God I swear it.”

“Good.” Toranaga turned and called out, “Fujiko-san!”

“Yes, Sire?”

“Did you bring maids with you?”

“Yes, Sire. Two.”

“Give one to Mariko-san. Send the other for cha.”

“There’s saké if you wish.”

“Cha. Yabu-san, would you like cha or saké?”

“Cha, please.”

“Bring saké for the Anjin-san.”

Light caught the little golden crucifix that hung from Mariko’s neck. She saw Toranaga stare at it. “You … you wish me not to wear it, Sire? To throw it away?”

“No,” he said. “Wear it as a reminder of your oath.”

They all watched the frigate. Toranaga felt someone looking at him
and glanced around. He saw the hard face and cold blue eyes and felt the hate—no, not hate, the suspicion. How dare the barbarian be suspicious of me, he thought.

“Ask the Anjin-san why didn’t he just say there’re plenty of cannon on the barbarian ship? Get them to escort us out of the trap?”

Mariko translated. Blackthorne answered.

“He says …” Mariko hesitated, then continued in a rush, “Please excuse me, he said, ‘It’s good for him to use his own head.’”

Toranaga laughed. “Thank him for his. It’s been most useful. I hope it stays on his shoulders. Tell him that now we’re equal.”

“He says, ‘No, we’re not equal, Toranaga-sama. But give me my ship and a crew and I’ll wipe the seas clean. Of any enemy.’”

“Mariko-san, do you think he meant me as well as the others—the Spanish and the Southern Barbarians?” The question was put lightly.

The breeze wafted strands of hair into her eyes. She pushed them away tiredly. “I don’t know, so sorry. Perhaps, perhaps not. Do you want me to ask him? I’m sorry, but he’s a … he’s very strange. I’m afraid I don’t understand him. Not at all.”

“We’ve plenty of time. Yes. In time he’ll explain himself to us.”

Blackthorne had seen the frigate quietly slip her moorings the moment her escort of Grays had hurried away, had watched her launch her longboat, which had quickly warped the ship away from her berth at the jetty, well out into the stream. Now she lay a few cables offshore in deep water, safe, a light bow anchor holding her gently, broadside to the shore. This was the normal maneuver of all European ships in alien or hostile harbors when a shore danger threatened. He knew, too, that though there was—and had been—no untoward movement on deck, by now all cannon would be primed, muskets issued, grape, cannonball, and chainshot ready in abundance, cutlasses waiting in their racks—and armed men aloft in the shrouds. Eyes would be searching all points of the compass. The galley would have been marked the moment it had changed course. The two stern chasers, thirty pounders, which were pointing directly at them, would be trained on them. Portuguese gunners were the best in the world, after the English.

And they’ll know about Toranaga, he told himself with great bitterness, because they’re clever and they’d have asked their porters or the Grays what all the trouble was about. Or by now the God-cursed
Jesuits who know everything would have sent word about Toranaga’s escape, and about me.

He could feel his short hairs curling. Any one of those guns can blow us to hell. Yes, but we’re safe because Toranaga’s aboard. Thank God for Toranaga.

Mariko was saying, “My Master asks what is your custom when you want to approach a warship?”

“If you had cannon you’d fire a salute. Or you can signal with flags, asking permission to come alongside.”

“My Master says, and if you have no flags?”

Though they were still outside cannon range it was almost, to Blackthorne, as if he were already climbing down one of the barrels, though the gunports were still closed. The ship carried eight cannon a side on her main deck, two at the stern and two at the bow.
Erasmus
could take her, he told himself, without a doubt, providing the crew was right. I’d like to take her. Wake up, stop daydreaming, we’re not aboard
Erasmus
but this sow-gutted galley and that Portuguese ship’s the only hope we have. Under her guns we’re safe. Bless your luck for Toranaga.

“Tell the captain to break out Toranaga’s flag at the masthead. That’ll be enough, senhora. That’ll make it formal and tell them who’s aboard, but I’d bet they know already.”

This was done quickly. Everyone in the galley seemed to be more confident now. Blackthorne marked the change. Even he felt better under the flag.

“My Master says, but how do we tell them we wish to go alongside?”

“Tell him without signal flags he has two choices: he waits outside cannon range and sends a deputation aboard her in a small boat, or we go directly within hailing distance.”

“My Master says, which do you advise?”

“Go straight alongside. There’s no reason for caution. Lord Toranaga’s aboard. He’s the most important d
aimyo
in the Empire. Of course she’ll help us and—Oh Jesu God!”

“Senhor?”

But he did not reply, so she quickly translated what had been said and listened to Toranaga’s next question. “My Master asks, the frigate will what? Please explain your thought and the reason you stopped.”