The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet: A Novel (72 page)

'Watch the goldfish,' he tells Tomine. 'Fetch me in a few minutes.'

The circumspect chamberlain withdraws to the Courtyard.

'Our game is unfair,' says Enomoto. 'You are distracted by duty.'

A jade-and-ash dragonfly lands on the edge of the board.

'High office,' replies the Magistrate, '
is
distractions, of all sizes.' He has heard that the Abbot can remove the
ki
of insects and small creatures through the palm of his hand, and he half hopes for a demonstration, but the dragonfly is already gone. 'Lord Enomoto, too, has a domain to govern, a Shrine to maintain, scholarly interests and . . .' to accuse him of commercial interests would be an insult '. . . other matters.'

'My days, to be certain, are never idle,' Enomoto places a stone in the heart of the board, 'but Mount Shiranui rejuvenates me.'

An autumn breeze drags its invisible robes around the fine room.

I am powerful enough
, the casual reference reminds the Magistrate,
to oblige the Aibagawa girl, a favourite of yours, to take vows in my Shrine, and you could not intercede
.

Shiroyama tries to concentrate on the game's present and future.

Once
, Shiroyama's father taught him,
nobility and samurai ruled Japan . . .

The kneeling servant parts the doors, bows, and brings in the tray.

. . . but now it is Deception, Greed, Corruption and Lust who govern.

The servant brings two new cups and a teapot.

'Lord Abbot,' says Shiroyama, 'would you care for some tea?'

'You shan't be insulted,' he states, 'by my preference for my own drink.'

'Your . . .'
what is the tactful word?
'. . . your reticence no longer surprises.'

Enomoto's indigo-clad aspirant is already there. The shaven-headed youth uncorks a gourd and leaves it with his master.

'Has your host ever . . .' Once again, the Magistrate hunts for the right words.

'Been angered by an implicit accusation that he meant to poison me? Yes, upon occasion. But then I pacify him with the story of how an enemy's servant - a woman - obtained a post at the residence of a famous Miyako family. She worked there as a trusted maid for two years until my next visit. She embellished my meal with a few grains of an odourless poison. Had my Order's doctor, Master Suzaku, not been on hand to administer an antidote, I would have died, and my friend's family would have been disgraced.'

'You have some unscrupulous enemies, Lord Abbot.'

He lifts the neck of the gourd to his mouth, tilts his head and drinks. 'Enemies flock to power,' he wipes his lips, 'like wasps to split figs.'

Shiroyama threatens Enomoto's isolated stone by placing it in
atari
.

An earth tremor animates the stones; they blur and buzz . . .

. . . but are not dislocated, and the tremor passes.

'Pardon my vulgarity,' says Enomoto, 'for referring to the business of Numa once again, but that I keep a Shogun's magistrate from his duties troubles my conscience. How much credit would it be helpful for Numa to supply in the first instance?'

Shiroyama feels acid in his stomach. 'Perhaps . . . twenty?'

'Twenty thousand
ryo
? Certainly.' Enomoto does not blink. 'Half can be in your Nagasaki storehouse in two nights, and half delivered to your Edo residence by the end of the Tenth Month. Would these times be satisfactory?'

Shiroyama hides his gaze in the board. 'Yes.' He forces himself to add, 'There is a question of guarantees.'

'An unnecessary slur,' avows Enomoto, 'on so illustrious a name . . .'

My illustrious name
, thinks its owner,
brings
me
only costly obligations
.

'When the next Dutch ship arrives, money will flow uphill from Dejima through Nagasaki once again, with the largest tributary passing through the Magistracy's Exchequer. I am honoured to guarantee the loan personally.'

Mention of my Edo residence
, Shiroyama thinks,
is a faint threat
.

'Interest, Your Honour,' Numa bows again, 'would amount to one quarter of the total sum paid annually over three years.'

Shiroyama is unable to look at the money-lender. 'Accepted.'

'Excellent.' The Lord Abbot sups from his gourd. 'Our host is busy, Numa.'

The money-lender bows all the way to the door, bumps into it and is gone.

'Forgive me . . .' Enomoto fortifies his north-south wall with his next stone '. . . for bringing such a creature into your sanctuary, Magistrate. Papers must now be prepared for the loan, but these can be delivered to Your Honour tomorrow.'

'There's nothing to forgive, Lord Abbot. Your . . . assistance is . . . timely.'

An understatement
, Shiroyama admits, and studies the board for inspiration.
Retainers on half-pay; desertions imminent; daughters needing dowries; the roof of my Edo residence leaking and walls crumbling; and if my entourage at Edo slips below thirty, jokes about my poverty shall surely begin . . . and when the jokes reach the ears of my other creditors . . .
His father's ghost may hiss
Shame!
but his father inherited land to sell; nothing remained for Shiroyama but a costly rank and the position of Nagasaki Magistrate. Once, the trading port was a silver mine, but in recent years the trade has been haphazard. Graft and wages, meanwhile, must be paid regardless.
If only
, Shiroyama dreams,
human beings were not masks behind masks behind masks. If only this world was a clean board of lines and intersections. If only time was a sequence of considered moves and not a chaos of slippages and blunders
.

He wonders,
Why hasn't Tomine come back to haunt me?

Shiroyama senses a change in the Magistracy's inner weather.

It is not quite audible . . . but it
is
audible: a low, low rumble of agitation.

Footsteps hurry down the corridor. There is a breathless exchange of whispers outside.

Jubilant, Chamberlain Tomine enters. 'A ship is sighted, Your Honour!'

'Ships are entering and leaving all the-- The
Dutch
ship?'

'Yes, sir. It's flying the Dutch flag, clear as day.'

'But . . .'
A ship arriving in the Ninth Month is unheard of
. 'Are you--'

The bells of every temple in Nagasaki begin to ring out in thanks.

'Nagasaki,' observes the Lord Abbot, 'is in no doubt at all.'

Sugar, sandalwood, worsted
, thinks Shiroyama,
rayskins, lead, cotton . . .

The pot of commerce will bubble and the longest ladle is his.

Taxes on the Dutch
, '
gifts
'
from the Chief, 'patriotic' exchange rates . . .

'May I be the very first,' asks Enomoto, 'to offer my congratulations?'

How well you hide your disappointment that I slip through your net
, Shiroyama thinks, breathing properly, it feels, for the first time in weeks. 'Thank you, Lord Abbot.'

'I shall, of course, tell Numa to darken your halls no longer.'

My temporary reverses
, Shiroyama dares to believe,
are reversed
.

XXXI

The Forecastle Taffrail of HMS
Phoebus

Ten o'clock sharp on the 18th October, 1800

'I have the Dutch factory.' Penhaligon sharpens the image in his telescope, estimating the distance at two English miles. 'Warehouses, a look-out post, so we shall assume they know we are here . . . It
is
a poke-hole. Some twenty or thirty junks at anchor, the Chinese factory . . . fishing-boats . . . a few grand roofs . . . but where a fat, laden Dutch Indiaman ought to be anchored, gentlemen, I see a stretch of empty blue water. Tell me I am wrong, Mr Hovell.'

Hovell sweeps the bay with his own telescope. 'Would that I could, sir.'

Major Cutlip whistles between his teeth in lieu of a filthy oath.

'Mr Wren, do Clovelly's famous eyes spy what ours do not?'

Wren's question: 'Do you find our Indiaman?' is relayed up the foremast.

The answer descends to Wren, who repeats: 'No Indiaman sighted, sir.'

Then there is no quick killing to be made at Holland's expense
. Penhaligon lowers his telescope as the bad news circulates from trestle trees to orlop deck in seconds. In the gun deck below a Liverpudlian bellows the bad news to a deaf comrade, 'No
effin'
ship is what's what, Davy, an' no
effin'
ship equals no
effin'
prize money an' no
effin'
prize money means
we
go home as piss-
effin'
-poor as we was when the
effin'
Navy nabbed us!'

Daniel Snitker, under his wide-brimmed hat, needs no translation.

Wren is first to vent his anger at the Dutchman. 'Are we too late? Did it sail?'

'Our misfortune is his, too, Lieutenant,' Penhaligon warns.

Snitker addresses Hovell in Dutch, whilst pointing towards the city. 'He says, Captain,' begins the First Lieutenant, 'that if our approach was sighted yesterday evening, then the Dutch may be concealing their Indiaman in an inlet behind that high wooded hill with the pagoda atop, east of the river-mouth . . .'

Penhaligon senses the crew's hopes revive a little.

Then he wonders whether the
Phoebus
is being lured into a trap.

Snitker's yarn of a daring escape at Macao fooled Governor Cornwallis . . .