Shogun_ A Novel of Japan Part 108

"But not 'fine'?" she asked.

"Fine-but very strange." He looked back at her. "You notice everything, don't you?"

"No, Anjin-san. But you didn't mention them and you've been thinking about them greatly this last week or so. I'm no magician. So sorry."

After a pause, he said, "You're sure you're all right? There's no problem with Buntaro-san, is there?"

He had never discussed Buntaro with her or mentioned his name since Yokose. By agreement that specter was never conjured up by either of them since the first moment. "This is my only request, Anjin-san," she had whispered the first night. "Whatever happens during our journey to Mishima or, Madonna willing, to Yedo, this has nothing to do with anyone but us, neh? neh? Nothing is to be mentioned between us about what really Nothing is to be mentioned between us about what really is. Neh? is. Neh? Nothing. Please?" Nothing. Please?"

"I agree. I swear it."

"And I do likewise. Finally, our journey ends at Yedo's First Bridge."

"No."

"There must be an ending, my darling. At First Bridge our journey ends. Please, or I will die with agony over fear for you and the danger I have put you in...."

Yesterday morning he had stood at the threshold of First Bridge, a sudden weight on his spirit, in spite of his elation over Erasmus. Erasmus.

"We should cross the bridge now, Anjin-san," she had said.

"Yes. But it is only a bridge. One of many. Come along, Mariko-san. Walk beside me across this this bridge. Beside me, please. Let us walk together," then added in Latin, "and believe that thou art carried and that we go hand in hand into a new beginning." bridge. Beside me, please. Let us walk together," then added in Latin, "and believe that thou art carried and that we go hand in hand into a new beginning."

She stepped out of her palanquin and walked beside him until they reached the other side. There she got back into the curtained litter and they went up the slight rise. Buntaro was waiting at the castle gate.

Blackthorne remembered how he had prayed for a lightning bolt to come out of the sky.

"There's no problem with him, is there?" he asked again as they came to the final landing.

She shook her head.

Toranaga said, "Ship very ready, Anjin-san? No mistake?"

"No mistake, Sire. Ship perfect."

"How many extra men-how many more want for ship...." Toranaga glanced at Mariko. "Please ask him how many extra crew he'll need to sail the ship properly. I want to be quite sure he understands what I want to know."

"The Anjin-san says, to sail her a minimum of thirty seamen and twenty gunners. His original crew was one hundred and seven, including cooks and merchants. To sail and fight in these waters, the complement of two hundred samurai would be enough."

"And he believes the other men he needs could be hired in Nagasaki?"

"Yes, Sire."

Toranaga said distastefully, "I certainly wouldn't trust mercenaries."

"Please excuse me, do you wish me to translate that, Sire?"

"What? Oh no, never mind that."

Toranaga got up, still pretending peevishness, and looked out of the windows at the rain. The whole city was obscured by the downpour. Let it rain for months, he thought. All G.o.ds, make the rain last until New Year. When will Buntaro see my brother? "Tell the Anjin-san I'll give him his va.s.sals tomorrow. Today's terrible. This rain will go on all day. There's no point in getting soaked."

"Yes, Sire," he heard her say and smiled ironically to himself. Never in his whole life had weather prevented him from doing anything. That should certainly convince her, or any other doubters, that I've changed permanently for the worse, he thought, knowing he could not yet diverge from his chosen course. "Tomorrow or the next day, what does it matter? Tell him when I'm ready I'll send for him. Until then he's to wait in the castle."

He heard her pa.s.s on the orders to the Anjin-san.

"Yes, Lord Toranaga, I understand," Blackthorne replied for himself. "But may I respectfully ask: Possible go Nagasaki quick? Think important. So sorry."

"I'll decide that later," Toranaga said brusquely, not making it easy for him. He motioned him to leave. "Good-by, Anjin-san. I'll decide your future soon." He saw that the man wanted to press the point but politely didn't. Good, he thought, at least he's learning some manners! "Tell the Anjin-san there's no need for him to wait for you, Mariko-san. Good-by, Anjin-san."

Mariko did as she was ordered. Toranaga turned back to contemplate the city and the cloudburst. He listened to the sound of the rain. The door closed behind the Anjin-san. "What was the quarrel about?" Toranaga asked, not looking at her.

"Sire?"

His ears, carefully tuned, had caught the slightest tremble in her voice. "Of course between Buntaro and yourself, or have you had another quarrel that concerns me?" he added with biting sarcasm, needing to precipitate the matter quickly. "With the Anjin-san perhaps, or my Christian enemies, or the Tsukku-san?"

"No, Sire. Please excuse me. It began as always, like most quarrels, Sire, between husband and wife. Really over nothing. Then suddenly, as always, all the past gets spewed up and it infects the man and the woman if the mood's on them."

"And the mood was on you?"

"Yes. Please excuse me. I provoked my husband unmercifully. It was my fault entirely. I regret, Sire, in those times, so sorry, people say wild things."

"Come on, hurry up, what wild things?" She was like a doe at bay. Her face was chalky. She knew that spies must have already whispered to him what was shouted in the quiet of their house.

She told him everything that had been said as best she could remember it. Then she added, "I believe my husband's words were spoken in wild rage which I provoked. He's loyal-I know he's loyal. If anyone is to be punished it's me, Sire. I did provoke the madness."

Toranaga sat again on the cushion, his back ramrod, his face granite. "What did the Lady Genjiko say?"

"I haven't spoken to her, Sire."

"But you intend to, or intended to, neh?" neh?"

"No, Sire. With your permission I intend to leave at once for Osaka."

"You will leave when I say and not before and treason is a foul beast wherever it's to be found!"

She bowed under the whiplash of his tongue. "Yes, Sire. Please forgive me. The fault is mine."

He rang a small hand bell. The door opened. Naga stood there. "Yes, Sire?"

"Order the Lord Sudara here with the Lady Genjiko at once."

"Yes, Sire." Naga turned to go.

"Wait! Then summon my Council, Yabu and all-and all senior generals. They're to be here at midnight. And clear this floor. All guards! You come back with Sudara!"

"Yes, Sire." Whitefaced, Naga closed the door after him.

Toranaga heard men clattering down the stairs. He went to the door and opened it. The landing was clear. He slammed the door and bolted it. He picked up another bell and rang it. An inner door at the far end of the room opened. This door was hardly noticeable, so cleverly had it been melded with the woodwork. A middle-aged heavy-set woman stood there. She wore a cowled Buddhist nun's habit. "Yes, Great Lord?"

"Cha please, Chano-chan," he said. The door closed. Toranaga's eyes went back to Mariko. "So you think he's loyal?"

"I know it, Sire. Please forgive me, it was my fault, not his," she said, desperate to please. "I provoked him."

"Yes, you did that. Disgusting. Terrible. Unforgivable!" Toranaga took out a paper kerchief and wiped his brow. "But fortunate," he said.

"Sire?"

"If you hadn't provoked him, perhaps I might never have learned of any treason. And if he'd said all that without provocation, there'd be only one course of action. As it is," he continued, "you give me an alternative."

"Sire?"

He did not answer. He was thinking, I wish Hiro-matsu were here, then there'd be at least one man I could trust completely. "What about you? What about your loyalty?"

"Please, Sire, you must know you have that."

He did not reply. His eyes were unrelenting.

The inner door opened and Chano, the nun, came confidently into the room without knocking, a tray in her hands. "Here you are, Great Lord, it was ready for you." She knelt as a peasant, her hands were rough like a peasant's, but her self-a.s.surance was enormous and her inner contentment obvious. "May Buddha bless you with his peace." Then she turned to Mariko, bowed as a peasant would bow, and settled back comfortably. "Perhaps you'd honor me by pouring, Lady. You'll do it prettily without spilling it, neh?" neh?" Her eyes gleamed with private amus.e.m.e.nt. Her eyes gleamed with private amus.e.m.e.nt.

"With pleasure, Oku-san," Mariko said, giving her the religious Mother t.i.tle, hiding her surprise. She had never seen Naga's mother before. She knew most of Toranaga's other official ladies, having seen them at official ceremonies, but she was on good terms only with Kiritsubo and Lady Sazuko.

Toranaga said, "Chano-chan, this is the Lady Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro."

"Ah, so desu, so sorry, I thought you were one of my Great Lord's honored ladies. Please excuse me, Lady Toda, may the blessings of Buddha be upon thee."

"Thank you," Mariko said. She offered the cup to Toranaga. He accepted it and sipped.

"Pour for Chano-san and yourself," he said.

"So sorry, not for me, Great Lord, with your permission, but my back teeth're floating from so much cha and the bucket's a long way away for these old bones."

"The exercise would do you good," Toranaga said, glad that he had sent for her when he returned to Yedo.

"Yes, Great Lord. You're right-as you always were." Chano turned her genial attention again to Mariko. "So you're Lord Akechi Jinsai's daughter."

Mariko's cup hesitated in the air. "Yes. Please excuse me ..."

"Oh, that's nothing to wish to be excused about, child." Chano laughed kindly, and her stomach heaved up and down. "I didn't place you without your name, please excuse me, but the last time I saw you was at your wedding."

"Oh?"

"Oh, yes, I saw you at your wedding, but you didn't see me. I spied you from behind a screen. Yes, you and all the great ones, the Dictator, and Nakamura, the Taik-to-be, and all the n.o.bles. Oh, I was much too shy to mix in that company. But that was such a good time for me. The best of my life. That was the second year my Great Lord favored me and I was heavy with child-though still the peasant I've always been." Her eyes crinkled and she added, "You're very little different from those days, still one of Buddha's chosen."

"Ah, I wish that were true, Oku-san."

"It's true. Did you know you were one of Buddha's chosen?"

"I'm not, Oku-san, much as I would like to be."

Toranaga said, "She's Christian."

"Ah, Christian-what does that matter to a woman, Christian or Buddha, Great Lord? Not a lot sometimes, though some G.o.d's necessary to a woman." Chano chuckled gleefully. "We women need a G.o.d, Great Lord, to help us deal with men, neh?" neh?"

"And we men need patience, G.o.dlike patience, to deal with women, neh?" neh?"

The woman laughed, and it warmed the room and, for an instant, lessened some of Mariko's foreboding. "Yes, Great Lord," Chano continued, "and all because of a Heavenly Pavilion that has no future, little warmth, and a sufficiency of h.e.l.l."

Toranaga grunted. "What do you say to that, Mariko-san?"

"The Lady Chano is wise beyond her youth," Mariko said.

"Ah, Lady, you say pretty things to an old fool," the nun told her. "I remember you so well. Your kimono was blue with the loveliest pattern of cranes on it I've ever seen. In silver." Her eyes went back to Toranaga. "Well, Great Lord, I just wanted to sit for a moment. Please excuse me now."

"There's time yet. Stay where you are."

"Yes, Great Lord," Chano said, ponderously getting to her feet, "I would obey as always but nature calls. So please be kind to an old peasant, I'd hate to disgrace you. It's time to go. Everything's ready, there's food and sake when you wish it, Great Lord."

"Thank you."

The door closed noiselessly behind her. Mariko waited until Toranaga's cup was empty, then she filled it again.

"What are you thinking?"

"I was waiting, Sire."

"For what, Mariko-san?"

"Lord, I'm hatamoto. I've never asked a favor before. I wish to ask a favor as a hata-"

"I don't wish you to ask any favor as a hatamoto," Toranaga said.

"Then a lifetime wish."

"I'm not a husband to grant that."

"Sometimes a va.s.sal may ask a liege-"

"Yes, sometimes, but not now! Now you will hold your tongue about any lifetime wish or favor or request or whatever." A lifetime wish was a favor that, by ancient custom, a wife might ask of her husband, or a son of a father-and occasionally a husband of a wife-without loss of face, on the condition that if the wish was granted, the person agreed never again to ask another favor in this life. By custom, no questions about the favor might be asked, nor was it ever to be mentioned again.

There was a polite knock at the door.

"Unbolt it," Toranaga said.

She obeyed. Sudara entered, followed by his wife, the Lady Genjiko, and Naga.

"Naga-san. Go down to the second landing below and prevent anyone from coming up without my orders."