Shōgun (The Asian Saga Book 1)

‘There must be a solution, Captain-General,’ dell’Aqua said patiently.

‘Do you want an overt act of war against a friendly nation?’

‘Of course not.’

Everyone in the great cabin knew that they were all in the same trap.  Any overt act put them squarely with Toranaga against Ishido, which they should absolutely avoid in case Ishido was the eventual victor.  Presently Ishido controlled Osaka, and the capital, Kyoto, and the majority of the Regents.  And now, through the daimyos Onoshi and Kiyama, Ishido controlled most of the southern island of Kyushu, and with Kyushu, the port of Nagasaki, the main center of all trading, and thus all trade and the Black Ship this year.

Toranaga said through Father Alvito, ‘What’s so difficult?  I just want you to blow the pirates out of the harbor mouth, neh?‘

Toranaga sat uncomfortably in the place of honor, in the highbacked chair at the great table.  Alvito sat next to him, the Captain-General opposite, dell’Aqua beside the Captain-General.  Mariko stood behind Toranaga and the samurai guards waited near the door, facing the armed seamen.  And all the Europeans were conscious that though Alvito translated for Toranaga everything that was said in the room, Mariko was there to ensure that nothing was said openly between them against her Master’s interests and that the translation was complete and accurate.

Dell’Aqua leaned forward.  ‘Perhaps, Sire, you could send messengers ashore to Lord Ishido.  Perhaps the solution lies in negotiation.  We could offer this ship as a neutral place for the negotiations.  Perhaps in this way you could settle the war.’

Toranaga laughed scornfully.  ‘What war?  We’re not at war, Ishido and I.’

‘But, Sire, we saw the battle on the shore.’

‘Don’t be naïve!  Who were killed?  A few worthless ronin.  Who attacked whom?  Only ronin, bandits or mistaken zealots.’

‘And at the ambush?  We understand that Browns fought Grays.’

‘Bandits were attacking all of us, Browns and Grays.  My men merely fought to protect me.  In night skirmishes mistakes often happen.  If Browns killed Grays or Grays Browns that’s a regrettable error.  What are a few men to either of us?  Nothing.  We’re not at war.’

Toranaga read their disbelief so he added, ‘Tell them, Tsukku-san, that armies fight wars in Japan.  These ridiculous skirmishes and assassination attempts are mere probes, to be dismissed when they fail.  War didn’t begin tonight.  It began when the Taikō died.  Even before that, when he died without leaving a grown son to follow him.  Perhaps even before that, when Goroda, the Lord Protector, was murdered.  Tonight has no lasting significance.  None of you understands our realm, or our politics.  How could you?  Of course Ishido’s trying to kill me.  So are many other daimyos.  They’ve done so in the past and they’ll do so in the future.  Kiyama and Onoshi have been both friend and enemy.  Listen, if I’m killed that would simplify things for Ishido, the real enemy, but only for a moment.  I’m in his trap now and if his trap’s successful he merely has a momentary advantage.  If I escape, there never was a trap.  But understand clearly, all of you, that my death will not remove the cause of war nor will it prevent further conflict.  Only if Ishido dies will there be no conflict.  So there’s no open war now.  None.’  He shifted in the chair, detesting the odor in the cabin from the oily foods and unwashed bodies.  ‘But we do have an immediate problem.  I want your cannon.  I want them now.  Pirates beset me at the harbor mouth.  I said earlier, Tsukku-san, that soon everyone must choose sides.  Now, where do you and your leader and the whole Christian Church stand?  And are my Portuguese friends with me or against me?’

Dell’Aqua said, ‘You may be assured, Lord Toranaga, we all support your interests.’

‘Good.  Then remove the pirates at once.’

‘That’d be an act of war and there’s no profit in it.  Perhaps we can make a trade, eh?’ Ferriera said.

Alvito did not translate this but said instead, ‘The Captain-General says, we’re only trying to avoid meddling in your politics, Lord Toranaga.  We’re traders.’

Mariko said in Japanese to Toranaga, ‘So sorry, Sire, that’s not correct.  That’s not what was said.’

Alvito sighed.  ‘I merely transposed some of his words, Sire.  The Captain-General is not aware of certain politenesses as he is a stranger.  He has no understanding of Japan.’

‘But you do have, Tsukku-san?’ Toranaga asked.

‘I try, Sire.’

‘What did he actually say?’

Alvito told him.

After a pause Toranaga said, ‘The Anjin-san told me the Portuguese were very interested in trade, and in trade they have no manners, or humor.  I understand and will accept your explanation, Tsukku-san.  But from now on please translate everything exactly as it is said.’

‘Yes, Lord.’

‘Tell the Captain-General this: When the conflict is resolved I will expand trade.  I am in favor of trade.  Ishido is not.’

Dell’Aqua had marked the exchange and hoped that Alvito had covered Ferriera’s stupidity.  ‘We’re not politicians, Sire, we’re religious and we represent the Faith and the Faithful.  We do support your interests.  Yes.’

‘I agree.  I was considering—’  Alvito stopped interpreting and his face lit up and he let Toranaga’s Japanese get away from him for a moment.  ‘I’m sorry, Eminence, but Lord Toranaga said, ‘I was considering asking you to build a temple, a large temple in Yedo, as a measure of my confidence in your interests.”

For years, ever since Toranaga had become Lord of the Eight Provinces, dell’Aqua had been maneuvering for that concession.  And to get it from him now, in the third greatest city in the Empire, was a priceless concession.  The Visitor knew the time had come to resolve the problem of the cannon.  ‘Thank him, Martin Tsukku-san,’ he said, using the code phrase that he had previously agreed upon with Alvito, committing their course of action, with Alvito the standardbearer, ‘and say we will try always to be at his service.  Oh yes, and ask him what he had in mind about the cathedral,’ he added for the Captain-General’s benefit.

‘Perhaps I may speak directly, Sire, for a moment,’ Alvito began to Toranaga.  ‘My Master thanks you and says what you previously asked is perhaps possible.  He will endeavor always to assist you.’

‘Endeavor is an abstract word, and unsatisfactory.’

‘Yes, Sire.’  Alvito glanced at the guards, who, of course, listened without appearing to.  ‘But I remember you saying earlier that it is sometimes wise to be abstract.’

Toranaga understood at once.  He waved his hand in dismissal to his men.  ‘Wait outside, all of you.’

Uneasily they obeyed.  Alvito turned to Ferriera.  ‘We don’t need your guards now, Captain-General.’

When the samurai had gone Ferriera dismissed his men and glanced at Mariko.  He wore pistols in his belt and had another in his boot.

Alvito said to Toranaga, ‘Perhaps, Sire, you would like the Lady Mariko to sit?’

Again Toranaga understood.  He thought for a moment, then half nodded and said, without turning around, ‘Mariko-san, take one of my guards and find the Anjin-san.  Stay with him until I send for you.’

‘Yes, Lord.’

The door closed behind her.

Now they were alone.  The four of them.

Ferriera said, ‘What’s the offer?  What’s he offering?’

‘Be patient, Captain-General,’ dell’Aqua replied, his fingers drumming on his cross, praying for success.

‘Sire,’ Alvito began to Toranaga, ‘the Lord my Master says that everything you asked he will try to do.  Within the forty days.  He will send you word privately about progress.  I will be the courier, with your permission.’

‘And if he’s not successful?’

‘It will not be through want of trying, or persuasion, or through want of thought.  He gives you his word.’

‘Before the Christian God?’

‘Yes.  Before God.’

‘Good.  I will have it in writing.  Under his seal.’

‘Sometimes full agreements, delicate agreements, should not be reduced to writing, Sire.’

‘You’re saying unless I put my agreement in writing, you won’t?’

‘I merely remembered one of your own sayings that a samurai’s honor is certainly more important than a piece of paper.  The Visitor gives you his word before God, his word of honor, as a samurai would.  Your honor is totally sufficient for the Visitor.  I just thought he would be saddened to be so untrusted.  Do you wish me to ask for a signature?’

At length Toranaga said, ‘Very well.  His word before the God Jesus, neh?  His word before his God?’

‘I give it on his behalf.  He has sworn by the Blessed Cross to try.’

‘You as well, Tsukku-san?’

‘You have equally my word, before my God, by the Blessed Cross, that I will do everything I can to help him persuade the Lords Onoshi and Kiyama to be your allies.’

‘In return I will do what I previously promised.  On the forty-first day you may lay the foundation stone for the biggest Christian temple in the Empire.’

‘Could that land, Sire, be put aside at once?’

‘As soon as I arrive at Yedo.  Now.  What about the pirates?  The pirates in the fishing boats?  You will remove them at once?’

‘If you had cannon, would you have done that yourself, Sire?’

‘Of course, Tsukku-san.’

‘I apologize for being so devious, Sire, but we have had to formulate a plan.  The cannon do not belong to us.  Please give me one moment.’  Alvito turned to dell’Aqua.  ‘Everything is arranged about the cathedral, Eminence.’  Then to Ferriera he added, beginning their agreed plan: ‘You will be glad you did not sink him, Captain-General.  Lord Toranaga asks if you would carry ten thousand ducats of gold for him when you leave with the Black Ship for Goa, to invest in the gold market in India.  We would be delighted to help in the transaction through our usual sources there, placing the gold for you.  Lord Toranaga says half the profit is yours.’  Both Alvito and dell’Aqua had decided that by the time the Black Ship had turned about, in six months, Toranaga either would be reinstated as President of the Regents and therefore more than pleased to permit this most profitable transaction, or he would be dead.  ‘You should easily clear four thousand ducats profit.  At no risk.’

‘In return for what concession?  That’s more than your annual subsidy from the King of Spain for your whole Society of Jesus in Asia.  In return for what?’

‘Lord Toranaga says pirates prevent him leaving the harbor.  He would know better than you if they’re pirates.’

Ferriera replied in the same matter-of-fact voice that both knew was only for Toranaga’s benefit, ‘It’s ill-advised to put your faith in this man.  His enemy holds all the royal cards.  All the Christian kings are against him.  Certainly the main two, I heard them with my own ears.  They said this Jappo’s the real enemy.  I believe them and not this motherless cretin.’

‘I’m sure Lord Toranaga knows better than us who are pirates and who are not,’ dell’Aqua told him unperturbed, knowing the solution as Alvito knew the solution.  ‘I suppose you’ve no objection to Lord Toranaga’s dealing with the pirates himself?’

‘Of course not.’

‘You have plenty of spare cannon aboard,’ the Visitor said.  ‘Why not give him some privately.  Sell him some, in effect.  You sell arms all the time.  He’s buying arms.  Four cannon should be more than enough.  It would be easy to transship them in the longboat, with enough powder and shot, again privately.  Then the matter is solved.’

Ferriera sighed.  ‘Cannon, my dear Eminence, are useless aboard the galley.  There are no gun ports, no gun ropes, no gun stanchions.  They can’t use cannon, even if they had the gunners, which they don’t.’

Both priests were flabbergasted.  ‘Useless?’

‘Totally.’

‘But surely, Don Ferriera, they can adapt . . .’

‘That galley’s incapable of using cannon without a refit.  It would take at least a week.’

‘Nan ja?‘  Toranaga said suspiciously, aware that something was amiss however much they had tried to hide it.

‘What is it, Toranaga asks,’ Alvito said.

Dell’Aqua knew the sand had run out on them.  ‘Captain-General, please help us.  Please.  I ask you openly.  We’ve gained enormous concessions for the Faith.  You must believe me and yes, you must trust us.  You must help Lord Toranaga out of the harbor somehow.  I beg you on behalf of the Church.  The cathedral alone is an enormous concession.  Please.’

Ferriera allowed none of the ecstasy of victory to show.  He even added a token gravity to his voice.  ‘Since you ask help in the Church’s name, Eminence, of course I’ll do what you ask.  I’ll get him out of this trap.  But in return I want the Captain-Generalship of next year’s Black Ship whether this year’s is successful of not.’

‘That’s the personal gift of the King of Spain, his alone.  That’s not mine to bestow.’

‘Next: I accept the offer of his gold, but I want your guarantee that I’ll have no trouble from the Viceroy at Goa, or here, about the gold or about either of the Black Ships.’

‘You dare to hold me and the Church to ransom?’

‘This is merely a business arrangement between you, me, and this monkey.’

‘He’s no monkey, Captain-General.  You’d better remember it.’

‘Next: Fifteen percent of this year’s cargo instead of ten.’

‘Impossible.’

‘Next: To keep everything tidy, Eminence, your word before God now—that neither you nor any of the priests under your jurisdiction will ever threaten me with excommunication unless I commit a future act of sacrilege, which none of this is.  And further, your word that you and the Holy Fathers will actively support me and help these two Black Ships—also before God.’

‘And next, Captain-General?  Surely that’s not all?  Surely there’s something else?’

‘Last: I want the heretic.’

Mariko stared down at Blackthorne from the cabin doorway.  He lay in a semicoma on the floor, retching his innards out.  The bosun was leaning against the bunk leering at her, the stumps of his yellow teeth showing.

‘Is he poisoned, or is he drunk?’ she asked Totomi Kana, the samurai beside her, trying without success to close her nostrils to the stench of the food and the vomit, to the stench of the ugly seaman in front of her, and to the ever present stench from the bilges that pervaded the whole ship.  ‘It almost looks as though he’s been poisoned, neh?‘

‘Perhaps he has, Mariko-san.  Look at that filth!’  The samurai waved distastefully at the table.  It was strewn with wooden platters containing the remains of a mutilated haunch of roast beef, blood rare, half the carcass of a spitted chicken, torn bread and cheese and spilled beer, butter and a dish of cold bacon-fat gravy, and a half emptied bottle of brandy.

Neither of them had ever seen meat on a table before.

‘What d’you want?’ the bosun asked.  ‘No monkeys in here, wakarimasu?  No monkey-sans this-u room-u!’  He looked at the samurai and waved him away.  ‘Out!  Piss off!’  His eyes flowed back over Mariko.  ‘What’s your name?  Namu, eh?’

‘What’s he saying, Mariko-san?’ the samurai asked.

The bosun glanced at the samurai for a moment then back to Mariko again.

‘What’s the barbarian saying, Mariko-san?’

Mariko took her mesmerized eyes off the table and concentrated on the bosun.  ‘I’m sorry, senhor, I didn’t understand you.  What did you say?’

‘Eh?’  The bosun’s mouth dropped farther open.  He was a big fat man with eyes too close together and large ears, his hair in a ratty tarred pigtail.  A crucifix hung from the rolls of his neck and pistols were loose in his belt.  ‘Eh?  You can talk Portuguese?  A Jappo who can talk good Portuguese?  Where’d you learn to talk civilized?’

‘The—the Christian Father taught me.’

‘I’ll be a God-cursed son of a whore!  Madonna, a flower-san who can talk civilized!’

Blackthorne retched again and tried feebly to get off the deck.

‘Can you—please can you put the pilot there?’  She pointed at the bunk.

‘Aye.  If this monkey’ll help.’

‘Who?  I’m sorry, what did you say?  Who?’

‘Him!  The Jappo.  Him.’

The words rocked through her and it took all of her will to remain calm.  She motioned to the samurai.  ‘Kana-san, will you please help this barbarian.  The Anjin-san should be put there.’

‘With pleasure, Lady.’

Together the two men lifted Blackthorne and he flopped back in the bunk, his head too heavy, mouthing stupidly.

‘He should be washed,’ Mariko said in Japanese, still half stunned by what the bosun had called Kana.

‘Yes, Mariko-san.  Order the barbarian to send for servants.’

‘Yes.’  Her disbelieving eyes went inexorably to the table again.  ‘Do they really eat that?’

The bosun followed her glance.  At once he leaned over and tore off a chicken leg and offered it to her.  ‘You hungry?  Here, little Flower-san, it’s good.  It’s fresh today—real Macao capon.’

She shook her head.

The bosun’s grizzled face split into a grin and he helpfully dipped the chicken leg into the heavy gravy and held it under her nose.  ‘Gravy makes it even better.  Hey, it’s good to be able to talk proper, eh?  Never did that before.  Go on, it’ll give you strength—where it counts!  It’s Macao capon I tell you.’

‘No—no, thank you.  To eat meat—to eat meat is forbidden.  It’s against the law, and against Buddhism and Shintoism.’

‘Not in Nagasaki it isn’t!’  The bosun laughed.  ‘Lots of Jappos eat meat all the time.  They all do when they can get it, and swill our grog as well.  You’re Christian, eh?  Go on, try, little Donna.  How d’you know till you try?’

‘No, no, thank you.’

‘A man can’t live without meat.  That’s real food.  Makes you strong so you can jiggle like a stoat.  Here—’  He offered the chicken leg to Kana.  ‘You want?’

Kana shook his head, equally nauseated.  ‘Iyé!‘

The bosun shrugged and threw it carelessly back onto the table.  ‘Iyé it is.  What’ve you done to your arm?  You hurt in the fight?’

‘Yes.  But not badly.’  Mariko moved it a little to show him and swallowed the pain.

‘Poor little thing!  What d’you want here, Donna Senhorita, eh?’

‘To see the An— to see the pilot.  Lord Toranaga sent me.  The pilot’s drunk?’

”Yes, that and the food.  Poor bastard ate too fast’n drank too fast.  Took half the bottle in a gulp.  Ingeles’re all the same.  Can’t hold their grog and they’ve no cojones.‘  His eyes went all over her.  ‘I’ve never seen a flower as small as you before.  And never talked to a Jappo who could talk civilized before.’

‘Do you call all Japanese ladies and samurai Jappos and monkeys?’

The seaman laughed shortly.  ‘Hey, senhorita, that was a slip of the tongue.  That’s for usuals, you know, the pimps and whores in Nagasaki.  No offense meant.  I never did talk to a civilized senhorita before, never knowed there was any, by God.’

‘Neither have I, senhor.  I’ve never talked to a civilized Portuguese before, other than a Holy Father.  We’re Japanese, not Jappos, neh?  And monkeys are animals, aren’t they?’

‘Sure.’  The bosun showed the broken teeth.  ‘You speak like a Donna.  Yes.  No offense, Donna Senhorita.’

Blackthorne began mumbling.  She went to the bunk and shook him gently.  ‘Anjin-san!  Anjin-san!’

‘Yes—yes?’  Blackthorne opened his eyes.  ‘Oh—hello—I’m sor—I . . .’  But the weight of his pain and the spinning of the room forced him to lie back.

‘Please send for a servant, senhor.  He should be washed.’

‘There’s slaves—but not for that, Donna Senhorita.  Leave the Ingeles—what’s a little vomit to a heretic?’

‘No servants?’ she asked, flabbergasted.

‘We have slaves—black bastards, but they’re lazy—wouldn’t trust one to wash him myself,’ he added with a twisted grin.

Mariko knew she had no alternative.  Lord Toranaga might have need of the Anjin-san at once and it was her duty.  ‘Then I need some water,’ she said.  ‘To wash him with.’

‘There’s a barrel in the stairwell.  In the deck below.’

‘Please fetch some for me, senhor.’

‘Send him.’  The bosun jerked a finger at Kana.

‘No.  You will please fetch it.  Now.’

The bosun looked back at Blackthorne.  ‘You his doxie?’

‘What?’

‘The Ingeles’s doxie?’

‘What’s a doxie, senhor?’

‘His woman.  His mate, you know, senhorita, this pilot’s sweetheart, his jigajig.  Doxie.’

‘No.  No, senhor, I’m not his doxie.’

‘His, then?  This mon—this samurai’s?  Or the king’s maybe, him that’s just come aboard?  Tora-something?  You one of his?’

‘No.’

‘Nor any aboard’s?’

She shook her head.  ‘Please, would you get some water?’

The bosun nodded and went out.

‘That’s the ugliest, foulest-smelling man I’ve ever been near,’ the samurai said.  ‘What was he saying?’

‘He—the man asked if—if I was one of the pilot’s consorts.’

The samurai went for the door.

‘Kana-san!’

‘I demand the right on your husband’s behalf to avenge that insult.  At once!  As though you’d cohabit with any barbarian!’

‘Kana-san!  Please close the door.’

‘You’re Toda Mariko-san!  How dare he insult you?  The insult must be avenged!’

‘It will be, Kana-san, and I thank you.  Yes.  I give you the right.  But we are here at Lord Toranaga’s order.  Until he gives his approval it would not be correct for you to do this.’

Kana closed the door reluctantly.  ‘I agree.  But I formally ask that you petition Lord Toranaga before we leave.’

‘Yes.  Thank you for your concern over my honor.’  What would Kana do if he knew all that had been said, she asked herself, appalled.  What would Lord Toranaga do?  Or Hiro-matsu?  Or my husband?  Monkeys?  Oh, Madonna, give me thy help to hold myself still and keep my mind working.  To ease Kana’s wrath, she quickly changed the subject.  ‘The Anjin-san looks so helpless.  Just like a baby.  It seems barbarians can’t stomach wine.  Just like some of our men.’

‘Yes.  But it’s not the wine.  Can’t be.  It’s what he’s eaten.’

Blackthorne moved uneasily, groping for consciousness.

‘They’ve no servants on the ship, Kana-san, so I’ll have to substitute for one of the Anjin-san’s ladies.’  She began to undress Blackthorne, awkwardly because of her arm.

‘Here, let me help you.’ Kana was very deft.  ‘I used to do this for my father when the saké took him.’

‘It’s good for a man to get drunk once in a while.  It releases all the evil spirits.’

‘Yes.  But my father used to suffer badly the next day.’

‘My husband suffers very badly.  For days.’

After a moment, Kana said, ‘May Buddha grant that Lord Buntaro escapes.’

‘Yes.’  Mariko looked around the cabin.  ‘I don’t understand how they can live in such squalor.  It’s worse than the poorest of our people.  I was almost fainting in the other cabin from the stench.’

‘It’s revolting.  I’ve never been aboard a barbarian ship before.’

‘I’ve never been on the sea before.’

The door opened and the bosun set down the pail.  He was shocked at Blackthorne’s nudity and jerked out a blanket from under the bunk and covered him.  ‘He’ll catch his death.  Apart from that—shameful to do that to a man, even him.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing.  What’s your name, Donna Senhorita?’  His eyes glittered.

She did not answer.  She pushed the blanket aside and washed Blackthorne clean, glad for something to do, hating the cabin and the foul presence of the bosun, wondering what they were talking about in the other cabin.  Is our Master safe?

When she had finished she bundled the kimono and soiled loincloth.  ‘Can this be laundered, senhor?’

‘Eh?’

‘These should be cleaned at once.  Could you send for a slave, please?’

‘They’re a lazy bunch of black bastards, I told you.  That’d take a week or more.  Throw’em away, Donna Senhorita, they’re not worth breath.  Our Pilot—Captain Rodrigues said to give him proper clothes.  Here.’  He opened a sea locker.  ‘He said to give him any from here.’

‘I don’t know how to dress a man in those.’

‘He needs a shirt’n trousers’n codpiece’n socks and boots’n sea jacket.’  The bosun took them out and showed her.  Then, together, she and the samurai began to dress Blackthorne, still in his half-conscious stupor.

‘How does he wear this?’  She held up the triangular, baglike codpiece with its attached strings.

‘Madonna, he wears it in front, like this,’ the bosun said, embarrassed, fingering his own.  ‘You tie it in place over his trousers, like I told.  Over his cod.’

She looked at the bosun’s, studying it.  He felt her look and stirred.

She put the codpiece on Blackthorne and settled him carefully in place, and together she and the samurai put the back strings between his legs and tied the strings around his waist.  To the samurai she said quietly, ‘This is the most ridiculous way of dressing I’ve ever seen.’

‘It must be very uncomfortable,’ Kana replied.  ‘Do priests wear them, Mariko-san?  Under their robes?’

‘I don’t know.’

She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.  ‘Senhor.  Is the Anjin-san dressed correctly now?’

‘Aye.  Except for his boots.  They’re there.  They can wait.’  The bosun came over to her and her nostrils clogged.  He dropped his voice, keeping his back to the samurai.  ‘You want a quickie?’

‘What?’

‘I fancy you, senhorita, eh?  What’d you say?  There’s a bunk in the next cabin.  Send your friend aloft.  The Ingeles’s out for an hour yet.  I’ll pay the usual.’

‘What?’

‘You’ll earn a piece of copper—even three if you’re like a stoat, and you’ll straddle the best cock between here and Lisbon, eh?  What d’you say?’

The samurai saw her horror.  ‘What is it, Mariko-san?’

Mariko pushed past the bosun, away from the bunk.  Her words stumbled.  ‘He . . . he said . . .’

Kana drew out his sword instantly but found himself staring into the barrels of two cocked pistols.  Nevertheless he began to lunge.

‘Stop, Kana-san!’  Mariko gasped.  ‘Lord Toranaga forbade any attack until he ordered it!’

‘Go on, monkey, come at me, you stink-pissed shithead!  You!  Tell this monkey to put up his sword or he’ll be a headless sonofabitch before he can fart!’

Mariko was standing within a foot of the bosun.  Her right hand was still in her obi, the haft of the stiletto knife still in her palm.  But she remembered her duty and took her hand away.  ‘Kana-san, replace your sword.  Please.  We must obey Lord Toranaga.  We must obey him.’

With a supreme effort, Kana did as he was told.

‘I’ve a mind to send you to hell, Jappo!’

‘Please excuse him, senhor, and me,’ Mariko said, trying to sound polite.  ‘There was a mistake, a mis—’

‘That monkey-faced bastard pulled a sword.  That wasn’t a mistake, by Jesus!’

‘Please excuse it, senhor, so sorry.’

The bosun wet his lips.  ‘I’ll forget it if you’re friendly, Little Flower.  Into the next cabin with you, and tell this monk—tell him to stay here and I’ll forget about it.’

‘What—what’s your name, senhor?’

‘Pesaro.  Manuel Pesaro, why?’

‘Nothing.  Please excuse the misunderstanding, Senhor Pesaro.’

‘Get in the next cabin.  Now.’

‘What’s going on?  What’s . . .’  Blackthorne did not know if he was awake or still in a nightmare, but he felt the danger.  ‘What’s going on, by God!’

‘This stinking Jappo drew on me!’

‘It was a—a mistake, Anjin-san,’ Mariko said.  ‘I—I’ve apologized to the Senhor Pesaro.’

‘Mariko?  Is that you—Mariko-san?’

‘Hai, Anjin-san.  Honto.  Honto.‘

She came nearer.  The bosun’s pistols never wavered off Kana.  She had to brush past him and it took an even greater effort not to take out her knife and gut him.  At that moment the door opened.  The youthful helmsman came into the cabin with a pail of water.  He gawked at the pistols and fled.

‘Where’s Rodrigues?’ Blackthorne said, attempting to get his mind working.

‘Aloft, where a good pilot should be,’ the bosun said, his voice grating.  ‘This Jappo drew on me, by God!’

‘Help me up on deck.’  Blackthorne grasped the bunk sides.  Mariko took his arm but she could not lift him.

The bosun waved a pistol at Kana.  ‘Tell him to help.  And tell him if there’s a God in heaven he’ll be swinging from the yardarm before the turn.’

First Mate Santiago took his ear away from the secret knothole in the wall of the great cabin, the final ‘Well, that’s all settled then’ from dell’Aqua ringing in his brain.  Noiselessly he slipped across the darkened cabin, out into the corridor, and closed the door quietly.  He was a tall, spare man with a lived-in face, and wore his hair in a tarred pigtail.  His clothes were neat, and like most seamen, he was barefoot.  In a hurry, he shinned up the companionway, ran across the main deck up onto the quarterdeck where Rodrigues was talking to Mariko.  He excused himself and leaned down to put his mouth very close to Rodrigues’ ear and began to pour out all that he had heard, and had been sent to hear, so that no one else on the quarterdeck could be party to it.

Blackthorne was sitting aft on the deck, leaning against the gunwale, his head resting on his bent knees.  Mariko sat straight-backed facing Rodrigues, Japanese fashion, and Kana, the samurai, bleakly beside her.  Armed seamen swarmed the decks and crow’s nest aloft and two more were at the helm.  The ship still pointed into the wind, the air and night clean, the nimbus stronger and rain not far off.  A hundred yards away the galley lay broadside, at the mercy of their cannon, oars shipped, except for two each side which kept her in station, the slight tide taking her.  The ambushing fishing ships with hostile samurai archers were closer but they were not encroaching as yet.

Mariko was watching Rodrigues and the mate.  She could not hear what was being said, and even if she could, her training would have made her prefer to close her ears.  Privacy in paper houses was impossible without politeness and consideration; without privacy civilized life could not exist, so all Japanese were trained to hear and not hear.  For the good of all.

When she had come on deck with Blackthorne, Rodrigues had listened to the bosun’s explanation and to her halting explanation that it was her fault, that she had mistaken what the bosun had said, and that this had caused Kana to pull out his sword to protect her honor.  The bosun had listened, grinning, his pistols still leveled at the samurai’s back.

‘I only asked if she was the Ingeles’s doxie, by God, she being so free with washing him and sticking his privates into the cod.’

‘Put up your pistols, bosun.’

‘He’s dangerous, I tell you.  String him up!’

‘I’ll watch him.  Go for’ard!’

‘This monkey’d’ve killed me if I wasn’t faster.  Put him on the yardarm.  That’s what we’d do in Nagasaki!’

‘We’re not in Nagasaki—go for’ard!  Now!’

And when the bosun had gone Rodrigues had asked, ‘What did he say to you, senhora?  Actually say?’

‘It—nothing, senhor.  Please.’

‘I apologize for that man’s insolence to you and to the samurai.  Please apologize to the samurai for me, ask his pardon.  And I ask you both formally to forget the bosun’s insults.  It will not help your liege lord or mine to have trouble aboard.  I promise you I will deal with him in my own way in my own time.’

She had spoken to Kana and, under her persuasion, at length he had agreed.

‘Kana-san says, very well, but if he ever sees the bosun Pesaro on shore he will take his head.’

‘That’s fair, by God.  Yes.  Domo arigato, Kana-san,’ Rodrigues said with a smile, ‘and domo arigato goziemashita, Mariko-san.’

‘You speak Japanese?’

‘Oh no, just a word or two.  I’ve a wife in Nagasaki.’

‘Oh!  You have been long in Japan?’

‘This is my second tour from Lisbon.  I’ve spent seven years in these waters all told—here, and back and forth to Macao and to Goa. ‘  Rodrigues added, ‘Pay no attention to him—he’s eta.  But Buddha said even eta have a right to life.  Neh?‘

‘Of course,’ Mariko said, the name and face branded forever into her mind.

‘My wife speaks some Portuguese, nowhere near as perfectly as you.  You’re Christian, of course?’

‘Yes.’

‘My wife’s a convert.  Her father’s samurai, though a minor one.  His liege lord is Lord Kiyama.’

‘She is lucky to have such a husband,’ Mariko said politely, but she asked herself, staggered, how could one marry and live with a barbarian?  In spite of her inherent manners, she asked, ‘Does the lady, your wife, eat meat, like—like that in the cabin?’

‘No,’ Rodrigues replied with a laugh, his teeth white and fine and strong.  ‘And in my house at Nagasaki I don’t eat meat either.  At sea I do and in Europe.  It’s our custom.  A thousand years ago before the Buddha came it was your custom too, neh?  Before Buddha lived to point the Tao, the Way, all people ate meat.  Even here, senhora.  Even here.  Now of course, we know better, some of us, neh?‘

Mariko thought about that.  Then she said, ‘Do all Portuguese call us monkeys?  And Jappos?  Behind our backs?’

Rodrigues pulled at the earring he wore.  ‘Don’t you call us barbarians?  Even to our face?  We’re civilized, at least we think so, senhora.  In India, the land of Buddha, they call Japanese ‘Eastern Devils’ and won’t allow any to land if they’re armed.  You call Indians ‘Blacks’ and nonhuman.  What do the Chinese call Japanese?  What do you call the Chinese?  What do you call the Koreans?  Garlic Eaters, neh?‘

‘I don’t think Lord Toranaga would be pleased.  Or Lord Hiro-Matsu, or even the father of your wife.’

‘The Blessed Jesus said, ‘First cast the mote out of your own eye before you cast the beam out of mine.”  She thought about that again now as she watched the first mate whispering urgently to the Portuguese pilot.  It’s true: we sneer at other people.  But then, we’re citizens of the Land of the Gods, and therefore especially chosen by the gods.  We alone, of all peoples, are protected by a divine Emperor.  Aren’t we, therefore, completely unique and superior to all others?  And if you are Japanese and Christian?  I don’t know.  Oh, Madonna, give me thy understanding.  This Rodrigues pilot is as strange as the English pilot.  Why are they very special?  Is it their training?  It’s unbelievable what they do, neh?  How can they sail around the earth and walk the sea as easily as we do the land?  Would Rodrigues’ wife know the answer?  I’d like to meet her, and talk to her.

The mate lowered his voice even more.

‘He said what?’  Rodrigues exclaimed with an involuntary curse and in spite of herself Mariko tried to listen.  But she could not hear what the mate repeated.  Then she saw them both look at Blackthorne and she followed their glance, perturbed by their concern.

‘What else happened, Santiago?’  Rodrigues asked guardedly, conscious of Mariko.

The mate told him in a whisper behind a cupped mouth.  ‘How long’ll they stay below?’

‘They were toasting each other.  And the bargain.’

‘Bastards!’  Rodrigues caught the mate’s shirt.  ‘No word of this, by God.  On your life!’

‘No need to say that, Pilot.’

‘There’s always a need to say it.’  Rodrigues glanced across at Blackthorne.  ‘Wake him up!’

The mate went over and shook him roughly.

‘Whatsamatter, eh?’

‘Hit him!’

Santiago slapped him.

‘Jesus Christ, I’ll . . .’  Blackthorne was on his feet, his face on fire, but he swayed and fell.

‘God damn you, wake up, Ingeles!’  Furiously Rodrigues stabbed a finger at the two helmsmen.  ‘Throw him overboard!’

‘Eh?’

‘Now, by God!’

As the two men hurriedly picked him up, Mariko said, ‘Pilot Rodrigues, you mustn’t—’ but before she or Kana could interfere the two men had hurled Blackthorne over the side.  He fell the twenty feet and belly-flopped in a cloud of spray and disappeared.  In a moment he surfaced, choking and spluttering, flailing at the water, the ice-cold clearing his head.

Rodrigues was struggling out of his seachair.  ‘Madonna, give me a hand!’

One of the helmsmen ran to help as the first mate got a hand under his armpit.  ‘Christ Jesus, be careful, mind my foot, you clumsy dunghead!’

They helped him to the side.  Blackthorne was still coughing and spluttering, but now as he swam for the side of the ship he was shouting curses at those who had cast him overboard.

‘Two points starboard!’ Rodrigues ordered.  The ship fell off the wind slightly and eased away from Blackthorne.  He shouted down, ‘Stay to hell off my ship!’  Then urgently to his first mate, ‘Take the longboat, pick up the Ingeles, and put him aboard the galley.  Fast.  Tell him . . .’  He dropped his voice.

Mariko was grateful that Blackthorne was not drowning.  ‘Pilot!  The Anjin-san’s under Lord Toranaga’s protection.  I demand he be picked up at once!’

‘Just a moment, Mariko-san!’  Rodrigues continued to whisper to Santiago, who nodded, then scampered away.  ‘I’m sorry, Mariko-san, gomen kudasai, but it was urgent.  The Ingeles had to be woken up.  I knew he could swim.  He has to be alert and fast!’

‘Why?’

‘I’m his friend.  Did he ever tell you that?’

‘Yes.  But England and Portugal are at war.  Also Spain.’

‘Yes.  But pilots should be above war.’

‘Then to whom do you owe duty?’

‘To the flag.’

‘Isn’t that to your king?’

‘Yes and no, senhora.  I owed the Ingeles a life.’  Rodrigues was watching the longboat.  ‘Steady as she goes—now put her into the wind,’ he ordered the helmsman.

‘Yes, senhor.’

He waited, checking and rechecking the wind and the shoals and the far shore.  The leadsman called out the fathoms.  ‘Sorry, senhora, you were saying?’  Rodrigues looked at her momentarily, then went back once more to check the lie of his ship and the longboat.  She watched the longboat too.  The men had hauled Blackthorne out of the sea and were pulling hard for the galley, sitting instead of standing and pushing the oars.  She could no longer see their faces clearly.  Now the Anjin-san was blurred with the other man close beside him, the man that Rodrigues had whispered to.  ‘What did you say to him, senhor?’

‘Who?’

‘Him.  The senhor you sent after the Anjin-san.’

‘Just to wish the Ingeles well and Godspeed.’  The reply was flat and noncommittal.

She translated to Kana what had been said.

When Rodrigues saw the longboat alongside the galley he began to breathe again.  ‘Hail Mary, Mother of God . . .’

The Captain-General and the Jesuits came up from below.  Toranaga and his guards followed.

‘Rodrigues!  Launch the longboat!  The Fathers are going ashore,’ Ferriera said.

‘And then?’

‘And then we put to sea.  For Yedo.’

‘Why there?  We were sailing for Macao,’ Rodrigues replied, the picture of innocence.

‘We’re taking Toranaga home to Yedo.  First.’

‘We’re what?  But what about the galley?’

‘She stays or she fights her way out.’

Rodrigues seemed to be even more surprised and looked at the galley, then at Mariko.  He saw the accusation written in her eyes.

‘Matsu,‘ the pilot told her quietly.

‘What?’  Father Alvito asked.  ‘Patience?  Why patience, Rodrigues?’

‘Saying Hail Marys, Father.  I was saying to the lady it teaches you patience.’

Ferriera was staring at the galley.  ‘What’s our longboat doing there?’

‘I sent the heretic back aboard.’

‘You what?’

‘I sent the Ingeles back aboard.  What’s the problem, Captain-General?  The Ingeles offended me so I threw the bugger overboard.  I’d have let him drown but he could swim so I sent the mate to pick him up and put him back aboard his ship as he seemed to be in Lord Toranaga’s favor.  What’s wrong?’

‘Fetch him back aboard.’

‘I’ll have to send an armed boarding party, Captain-General.  Is that what you want?  He was cursing and heaping hellfire on us.  He won’t come back willingly this time.’

‘I want him back aboard.’

‘What’s the problem?  Didn’t you say the galley’s to stay and fight or whatever?  So what?  So the Ingeles is hip-deep in shit.  Good.  Who needs the bugger, anyway?  Surely the Fathers’d prefer him out of their sight.  Eh, Father?’

Dell’Aqua did not reply.  Nor did Alvito.  This disrupted the plan that Ferriera had formulated and had been accepted by them and by Toranaga: that the priests would go ashore at once to smooth over Ishido, Kiyama, and Onoshi, professing that they had believed Toranaga’s story about the pirates and did not know that he had ‘escaped’ from the castle.  Meanwhile the frigate would charge for the harbor mouth, leaving the galley to draw off the fishing boats.  If there was an overt attack on the frigate, it would be beaten off with cannon, and the die cast.

‘But the boats shouldn’t attack us,’ Ferriera had reasoned.  ‘They have the galley to catch.  It will be your responsibility, Eminence, to persuade Ishido that we had no other choice.  After all, Toranaga is President of the Regents.  Finally, the heretic stays aboard.

‘Neither of the priests had asked why.  Nor had Ferriera volunteered his reason.

The Visitor put a gentle hand on the Captain-General and turned his back on the galley.  ‘Perhaps it’s just as well the heretic’s there,’ he said, and he thought, how strange are the ways of God.

No, Ferriera wanted to scream.  I wanted to see him drown.  A man overboard in the early dawn at sea—no trace, no witnesses, so easy.  Toranaga would never be the wiser; a tragic accident, as far as he was concerned.  And it was the fate Blackthorne deserved.  The Captain-General also knew the horror of sea death to a pilot.

‘Nan ja?‘ Toranaga asked.

Father Alvito explained that the pilot was on the galley and why.  Toranaga turned to Mariko, who nodded and added what Rodrigues had said previously.

Toranaga went to the side of the ship and gazed into the darkness.  More fishing boats were being launched from the north shore and the others would soon be in place.  He knew that the Anjin-san was a political embarrassment and this was a simple way the gods had given him if he desired to be rid of the Anjin-san.  Do I want that?  Certainly the Christian priests will be vastly happier if the Anjin-san vanishes, he thought.  And also Onoshi and Kiyama, who feared the man so much that either or both had mounted the assassination attempts.  Why such fear?

It’s karma that the Anjin-san is on the galley now and not safely here.  Neh?  So the Anjin-san will drown with the ship, along with Yabu and the others and the guns, and that is also karma.  The guns I can lose, Yabu I can lose.  But the Anjin-san?

Yes.

Because I still have eight more of these strange barbarians in reserve.  Perhaps their collective knowledge will equal or exceed that of this single man.  The important thing is to be back in Yedo as quickly as possible to prepare for the war, which cannot be avoided.  Kiyama and Onoshi?  Who knows if they’ll support me.  Perhaps they will, perhaps not.  But a plot of land and some promises are nothing in the balance if the Christian weight is on my side in forty days.

‘It’s karma, Tsukku-san.  Neh?‘

‘Yes, Sire.’  Alvito glanced at the Captain-General, very satisfied.  ‘Lord Toranaga suggests that nothing is done.  It’s the will of God.’

‘Is it?’

The drum on the galley began abruptly.  The oars bit into the water with great strength.

‘What, in the name of Christ, is he doing?’ Ferriera bellowed.

And then, as they watched the galley pulling away from them, Toranaga’s pennant came fluttering down from the masthead.

Rodrigues said, ‘Looks like they’re telling every God-cursed fishing boat in the harbor that Lord Toranaga’s no longer aboard.’

‘What’s he going to do?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Don’t you?’ Ferriera asked.

‘No.  But if I was him I’d head for sea and leave us in the cesspit—or try to.  The Ingeles has put the finger on us now.  What’s it to be?’

‘You’re ordered to Yedo.’  The Captain-General wanted to add, if you ram the galley all the better, but he didn’t.  Because Mariko was listening.

The priests thankfully went ashore in the longboat.

‘All sails ho!’  Rodrigues shouted, his leg paining and throbbing.  ‘Sou’ by sou’west!  All hands lay to!’

‘Senhora, please tell Lord Toranaga he’d best go below.  It’ll be safer,’ Ferriera said.

‘He thanks you and says he will stay here.’

Ferriera shrugged, went to the edge of the quarterdeck.  ‘Prime all cannon.  Load grape!  Action stations!’