Shōgun (The Asian Saga Book 1)

The courier galloped down the road in darkness toward the sleeping village.  The sky was tinged with dawn and the night fishing boats that had been netting near the shoals were just coming in.  He had ridden without rest from Mishima over the mountain passes and bad roads, commandeering fresh horses wherever he could.

His horse pounded through the village streets—covert eyes watching him now—across the square and up the road to the fortress.  His standard carried Toranaga’s cipher and he knew the current password.  Nevertheless he was challenged and identified four times before he was allowed entrance and audience with the officer of the watch.

‘Urgent dispatches from Mishima, Naga-san, from Lord Hiro-matsu.’

Naga took the scroll and hurried inside.  At the heavily guarded shoji he stopped.  ‘Father?’

‘Yes?’

Naga slid back the door and waited.  Toranaga’s sword slipped back into its scabbard.  One of the guards brought an oil lamp.

Toranaga sat up in his mosquito net and broke the seal.  Two weeks ago he had ordered Hiro-matsu with an elite regiment secretly to Mishima, the castle city on the Tokaidō Road that guarded the entrance to the pass leading across the mountains to the cities of Atami and Odawara on the east coast of Izu.  Atami was the gateway to Odawara to the north.  Odawara was the key to the defense of the whole Kwanto.

Hiro-matsu wrote:  ‘Sire, your half brother, Zataki, Lord of Shinano, arrived here today from Osaka asking for safe conduct to see you at Anjiro.  He travels formally with a hundred samurai and bearers, under the cipher of the ‘new’ Council of Regents.  I regret to tell you the Lady Kiritsubo’s news is correct.  Zataki’s turned traitor and is openly flaunting his allegiance to Ishido.  What she did not know is that Zataki is now a Regent in place of Lord Sugiyama.  He showed me his official appointment, correctly signed by Ishido, Kiyama, Onoshi, and Ito.  It was all I could do to restrain my men at his arrogance and obey your orders to let any messenger from Ishido pass.  I wanted to kill this dung eater myself.  Traveling with him is the barbarian priest, Tsukku-san, who arrived by sea at the port of Numazu, coming from Nagasaki.  He asked permission to visit you so I sent him with the same party.  I’ve sent two hundred of my men to escort them.  They’ll arrive within two days at Anjiro.  When do you return to Yedo?  Spies say Jikkyu’s mobilizing secretly and news comes from Yedo that the northern clans are ready to throw in with Ishido now that Zataki’s Shinano is against you.  I beg you to leave Anjiro at once—retreat by sea.  Let Zataki follow you to Yedo, where we can deal with him properly.’

Toranaga slammed his fist against the floor.

‘Naga-san.  Fetch Buntaro-san, Yabu-san, and Omi-san here at once.’

They arrived very quickly.  Toranaga read them the message.  ‘We’d better cancel all training.  Send the Musket Regiment, every man, into the mountains.  We don’t want any security leaks now.’

Omi said, ‘Please excuse me, Sire, but you might consider intercepting the party over the mountains.  Say at Yokosé.  Invite Lord Zataki’—he chose the title carefully—’to take the waters at one of the nearby spas, but have the meeting at Yokosé.  Then, after he’s delivered his message, he and all his men can be turned back, escorted to the frontier, or destroyed, just as you wish.’

‘I don’t know Yokosé.’

Yabu said importantly, ‘It’s beautiful, almost in the center of Izu, Sire, over the mountains in a valley cleft.  It’s beside the river Kano.  The Kano flows north, eventually through Mishima and Numazo to the sea, neh?  Yokosé’s at a crossroads—the roads go north-south and east-west.  Yes, Yokosé’d be a good place to meet, Sire.  Shuzenji Spa’s nearby—very hot, very good—one of our best.  You should visit it, Sire.  I think Omi-san’s made a good suggestion.’

‘Could we defend it easily?’

Omi said quickly, ‘Yes, Sire.  There’s a bridge.  The land falls steeply from the mountains.  Any attackers would have to fight up a snaking road.  Both passes can be held with few men.  You could never be ambushed.  We have more than enough men to defend you and butcher ten times their number—if need be.’

‘We butcher them whatever happens, neh?‘ Buntaro said with contempt.  ‘But better there than here.  Sire, please let me make the place safe.  Five hundred archers, no musketeers—all horsemen.  Added to the men my father sent, we’ll have more than enough.’

Toranaga checked the date on the dispatch.  ‘They’ll reach the crossroads when?’

Yabu looked at Omi for confirmation.  ‘Tonight at the earliest?’

‘Yes.  Perhaps not until dawn tomorrow.’

‘Buntaro-san, leave at once,’ Toranaga said.  ‘Contain them at Yokosé but keep them the other side of the river.  I’ll leave at dawn tomorrow with another hundred men.  We should be there by noon.  Yabu-san, you take charge of our Musket Regiment for the moment and guard our retreat.  Put it in ambush across the Heikawa Road, on the skyline, so we can fall back through you if necessary.’

Buntaro started to leave but stopped as Yabu said uneasily, ‘How can there be treachery, Sire?  They’ve only a hundred men.’

‘I expect treachery.  Lord Zataki wouldn’t put his head into my hands without a plan, for, of course, I’ll take his head if I can,’ Toranaga said.  ‘Without him to lead his fanatics we’ll have a far better chance to get through his mountains.  But why’s he risking everything?  Why?’

Omi said tentatively, ‘Could he be ready to turn ally again?’

They all knew the long-standing rivalry that had existed between the half brothers.  A friendly rivalry up till now.

‘No, not him.  I never trusted him before.  Would any of you trust him now?’

They shook their heads.

Yabu said, ‘Surely there’s nothing to disturb you, Sire.  Lord Zataki’s a Regent, yes, but he’s only a messenger, neh?‘

Fool, Toranaga wanted to shout, don’t you understand anything?  ‘We’ll soon know.  Buntaro-san, go at once.’

‘Yes, Sire.  I’ll choose the meeting place carefully, but don’t let him within ten paces.  I was with him in Korea.  He’s too quick with his sword.’

‘Yes.

Buntaro hurried away.  Yabu said, ‘Perhaps Zataki can be tempted to betray Ishido—some prize perhaps?  What’s his bait?  Even without his leadership the Shinano mountains are cruel.’

‘The bait’s obvious,’ Toranaga said.  ‘The Kwanto.  Isn’t that what he wants, has always wanted?  Isn’t that what all my enemies want?  Isn’t that what Ishido himself wants?’

They did not answer him.  There was no need.

Toranaga said gravely, ‘May Buddha help us.  The Taikō’s peace has ended.  War is beginning.’

Blackthorne’s sea ears had heard the urgency in the approaching hoofs and they had whispered danger.  He had come out of sleep instantly, ready to attack or retreat, all his senses tuned.  The hoofs passed, then headed up the hill toward the fortress, to die away again.

He waited.  No sound of a following escort.  Probably a lone messenger, he thought.  From where?  Is it war already?

Dawn was imminent.  Now Blackthorne could see a small part of the sky.  It was overcast and laden with rain, the air warm with a tang of salt in it, billowing the net from time to time.  A mosquito whined faintly outside.  He was very pleased to be within, safe for the moment.  Enjoy the safety and the tranquillity while it lasts, he told himself.

Kiku was sleeping next to him, curled up like a kitten.  Sleep-tousled, she seemed more beautiful to him.  He carefully relaxed back into the softness of the quilts on the tatami floor.

This is so much better than a bed.  Better than any bunk—my God, how much better!  But soon to be back aboard, neh?  Soon to fall on the Black Ship and take her, neh?  I think Toranaga’s agreed even though he hasn’t said so openly.  Hasn’t he just agreed in Japanese fashion?  ‘Nothing can ever be solved in Japan except by Japanese methods.‘  Yes, I believe that’s the truth.

I wanted to be better informed.  Didn’t he tell Mariko to translate everything and explain about his political problems?

I wanted money to buy my new crew.  Didn’t he give me two thousand koku?

I asked for two or three hundred corsairs.  Hasn’t he given me two hundred samurai with all the power and rank I need?  Will they obey me?  Of course.  He made me samurai and hatamoto.  So they’ll obey to the death and I’ll bring them aboard Erasmus, they’ll be my boarding party and I will lead the attack.

How unbelievably lucky I am!  I’ve everything I want.  Except Mariko.  But I even have her.  I have her secret spirit and her love.  And I possessed her body last night, the magic night that never existed.  We loved without loving.  Is that so different?

There’s no love between Kiku and me, just a desire that blossomed.  It was grand for me.  I hope it was also grand for her.  I tried to be Japanese wholely and do my duty, to please her as she pleased me.

He remembered how he had used a pleasure ring.  He had felt most awkward and shy and had turned away to put it on, petrified that his strength would vanish, but it had not.  And then, when it was in place, they had pillowed again.  Her body shuddered and twisted and the tremoring had lifted him to a more urgent plane than any he had ever known.

Afterwards, when he could breathe again, he began to laugh and she had whispered, Why do you laugh, and he had answered, I don’t know except you make me happy.

I’ve never laughed at that moment, ever before.  It made everything perfect.  I do not love Kiku-san—I cherish her.  I love Mariko-san without reservation and I like Fujiko-san completely.

Would you pillow with Fujiko?  No.  At least, I don’t think I could.

Isn’t that your duty?  If you accept the privileges of samurai and require others to treat you totally as samurai with all that that means, you must accept the responsibilities and duties, neh?  That’s only fair, neh?  And honorable, neh?  It’s your duty to give Fujiko a son.

And Felicity.  What would she say to that?

And when you sail away, what about Fujiko-san and what about Mariko-san?  Will you truly return here, leaving the knighthood and the even greater honors that you’ll surely be granted, provided you come back laden with treasure?  Will you sail outward bound once more into the hostile deep, to smash through the freezing horror of Magellan’s Pass, to endure storm and sea and scurvy and mutiny for another six hundred and ninety-eight days to make a second landfall here?  To take up this life again?

Decide!

Then he remembered what Mariko had told him about compartments of the mind:  ‘Be Japanese, Anjin-san, you must, to survive.  Do what we do, surrender yourself to the rhythm of karma unashamed.  Be content with the forces beyond your control.  Put all things into their own separate compartments and yield to wa, the harmony of life.  Yield, Anjin-san, karma is karma, neh?‘

Yes.  I’ll decide when the time comes.

First I have to get the crew.  Next I capture the Black Ship.  Then I sail halfway around the earth to England.  Then I’ll buy and equip the warships.  And then I’ll decide.  Karma is karma.

Kiku stirred, then buried herself deeper into the quilts, nestling closer.  He felt the warmth of her through their silk kimonos.  And he was kindled.

‘Anjin-chan,’ she murmured, still in sleep.

‘Hai?‘

He did not awaken her.  He was content to cradle her and rest, enraptured by the serenity that the yielding had given him.  But before he went into sleep, he blessed Mariko for teaching him.

‘Yes, Omi-sama, certainly,’ Gyoko said.  ‘I’ll fetch the Anjin-san at once.  Please excuse me.  Ako, come with me.’  Gyoko sent Ako for tea, then bustled out into the garden wondering what vital news the galloping night messenger had brought, for she too had heard the hoofs.  And why is Omi so strange today, she asked herself.  Why so cold, rough, and dangerous?  And why did he come himself on so menial a task?  Why not send any samurai?

Ah, who knows?  Omi’s a man.  How can you understand them, particularly samurai?  But something’s wrong, terribly wrong.  Did the messenger bring a declaration of war?  I suppose so.  If it’s war, then it’s war and war never hurt our business.  Daimyos and samurai will still need entertaining, as always—more so in war—and in war, money means less than ever to them.  Good good good.

She smiled to herself.  Remember the war days forty-odd years ago when you were seventeen and the toast of Mishima?  Remember all the laughter and pillowing and proud nights that melted into days?  Remember serving Old Baldy himself, Yabu’s father, the nice old gentleman who boiled criminals like his son after him?  Remember how hard you had to work to make him soft—unlike the son!  Gyoko chuckled.  We pillowed three days and three nights, then he became my patron for a whole year.  Good times—a good man.  Oh, how we pillowed!

War or peace, never mind!  Shigata ga nai?  There’s enough invested with the moneylenders and rice merchants, a little here, a little there.  Then there’s the saké factory in Odawara, the Tea House in Mishima’s thriving, and today Lord Toranaga’s going to buy Kiku’s contract!

Yes, interesting times ahead, and how fantastically interesting the previous night had been.  Kiku had been brilliant, the Anjin-san’s outburst mortifying.  Kiku had made as deft a recovery as any courtesan in the land.  And then, when the Lady Toda had left them, Kiku’s artistry had made everything perfect and the night blissful.

Ah, men and women.  So predictable.  Especially men.

Babies always.  Vain, difficult, terrible, petulant, pliant, horrible—marvelous most rarely—but all born with that single incredible redeeming feature that we in the trade refer to as the Jade Root, Turtle Head, Yang Peak, Steaming Shaft, Male Thruster, or simply Piece of Meat.

How insulting!  Yet how apt!

Gyoko chuckled and asked herself for the ten thousandth time, by all gods living and dead and yet to be born, what in the world would we do in this world without the Piece of Meat?

She hurried on again, her footsteps just loud enough to announce her presence.  She mounted the polished cedar steps.  Her knock was practiced.

‘Anjin-san—Anjin-san, so sorry but Lord Toranaga’s sent for you.  You’re ordered to the fortress at once.’

‘What?  What did you say?’

She repeated it in simpler language.

‘Ah!  Understand!  All right—I there quick,’ she heard him say, with his funny accent.

‘So sorry, please excuse me.  Kiku-san?’

‘Yes, Mama-san?’  In a moment the shoji slid open.  Kiku smiled at her, the kimono clinging and her hair prettily disarrayed.  ‘Good morning, Mama-san, did you have pleasant dreams?’

‘Yes, yes, thank you.  So sorry to disturb you.  Kiku-chan, do you wish for fresh cha?’

‘Oh!’  Kiku’s smile disappeared.  This was the code sentence that Gyoko could freely use in front of any client which told Kiku that her most special client, Omi-san, was in the Tea House.  Then Kiku could always finish her story or song or dance more quickly, and go to Omi-san, if she wished.  Kiku pillowed with very few, though she entertained many—if they paid the fee.  Very, very few could afford all her services.

‘What is it?’  Gyoko asked narrowly.

‘Nothing, Mama-san.  Anjin-san,’ Kiku called out gaily, ‘so sorry, would you like cha?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘It will be here at once,’ Gyoko said.  ‘Ako!  Hurry up, child.’

‘Yes, Mistress.’  Ako brought in the tray of tea and two cups and poured, and Gyoko left, again apologizing for disturbing him.

Kiku gave Blackthorne the cup herself.  He drank it thirstily, then she helped him to dress.  Ako laid out a fresh kimono for her.  Kiku was most attentive but she was consumed with the knowledge that soon she would have to accompany the Anjin-san outside the gateway to bow him homeward.  It was good manners.  More than that, it was her privilege and duty.  Only courtesans of the First Rank were ever allowed to go beyond the threshold to bestow that rare honor; all others had to stay within the courtyard.  It was unthinkable for her not to finish the night as was expected—that would be a terrible insult to her guest and yet . . .

For the first time in her life, Kiku did not wish to bow one guest homeward in front of another guest.

I can’t, not the Anjin-san in front of Omi-san.

Why? she asked herself.  Is it because the Anjin-san’s barbarian and you’re ashamed that all the world will know you’ve been possessed by a barbarian?  No.  All Anjiro knows already and a man is like any other, most of the time.  This man is samurai, hatamoto, and Admiral of Lord Toranaga’s ships!  No, nothing like that.

What is it then?

It’s because I found in the night that I was shamed by what Omi-san did to him.  As we should all be shamed.  Omi-san should never have done that.  The Anjin-san is branded and my fingers seemed to feel the brand through the silk of his kimono.  I burn with shame for him, a good man to whom that should not have been done.

Am I defiled?

No, of course not, just shamed before him.  And shamed before Omi-san for being ashamed.

Then in the reaches of her mind she heard Mama-san saying again, ‘Child, child, leave man things to men.  Laughter is our balm against them, and the world and the gods and even old age.’

‘Kiku-san?’

‘Yes, Anjin-san?’

‘Now I go.’

‘Yes.  Let us go together,’ she said.

He took her face tenderly in his rough hands and kissed her.  ‘Thank you.  No words enough to thank.’

‘It is I who should thank you.  Please allow me to thank you, Anjin-san.  Let us leave now.’

She allowed Ako to put the finishing touches to her hair, which she left hanging loosely, tied the sash of the fresh kimono, and went with him.

Kiku walked beside him as was her privilege, not a few steps behind as a wife or consort or daughter or servant was obliged to.  He put his hand on her shoulder momentarily and this was distasteful to her for they were not in the privacy of a room.  Then she had a sudden, horrible premonition that he would kiss her publicly—which Mariko had mentioned was barbarian custom—at the gate.  Oh, Buddha let that not happen, she thought, almost faint with fright.

His swords were in the reception room.  By custom, all weapons were left under guard, outside the pleasure rooms, to avoid lethal quarrels with other clients, and also to prevent any lady from ending her life.  Not all Ladies of the Willow World were happy or fortunate.

Blackthorne put his swords into his sash.  Kiku bowed him through to the veranda, where he stepped into his thongs, Gyoko and others assembled to bow him away, an honored guest.  Beyond the gateway was the village square and the sea.  Many samurai were there milling about, Buntaro among them.  Kiku could not see Omi, though she was certain he would be watching somewhere.

The Anjin-san seemed immensely tall, she so small beside him.  Now they were crossing the courtyard.  Both saw Omi at the same time.  He was standing near the gateway.

Blackthorne stopped.  ‘Morning, Omi-san,’ he said as a friend and bowed as a friend, not knowing that Omi and Kiku were more than friends.  How could he know, she thought.  No one has told him—why should they tell him?  And what does that matter anyway?

‘Good morning, Anjin-san.’  Omi’s voice was friendly too, but she saw him bow with only sufficient politeness.  Then his jet eyes turned to her again and she bowed, her smile perfect.  ‘Good morning, Omi-san.  This house is honored.’

‘Thank you, Kiku-san.  Thank you.’

She felt his searching gaze but pretended not to notice, keeping her eyes demurely lowered.  Gyoko and the maids and the courtesans who were free watched from the veranda.

‘I go fortress, Omi-san,’ Blackthorne was saying.  ‘All’s well?’

‘Yes.  Lord Toranaga’s sent for you.’

‘Go now.  Hope see you soon.’

‘Yes.’

Kiku glanced up.  Omi was still staring at her.  She smiled her best smile and looked at the Anjin-san.  He was watching Omi intently; then feeling her eyes, he turned to her and smiled back.  It seemed to her a strained smile.  ‘So sorry, Kiku-san, Omi-san, must go now.’  He bowed to Omi.  It was returned.  He went through the gate.  She followed, hardly breathing.  Movement stopped in the square.  In the silence she saw him turn back, and for a hideous moment, she knew he was going to embrace her.  But to her enormous relief he did not, and just stood there waiting as a civilized person would wait.

She bowed with all the tenderness she could muster, Omi’s gaze boring into her.

‘Thank you, Anjin-san,’ she said and smiled at him alone.  A sigh went through the square.  ‘Thank you,’ then added the time-honored, ‘Please visit us again.  I will count the moments until we meet again.’

He bowed with just the right amount of carelessness, strode off arrogantly as a samurai of quality would.  Then, because he had treated her very correctly, and to repay Omi for the unnecessary coldness in his bow, instead of going back into her house at once, she stayed where she was and looked after the Anjin-san to give him greater honor.  She waited until he was at the last corner.  She saw him look back.  He waved once.  She bowed very low, now delighted with the attention in the square, pretending not to notice it.  And only when he was truly gone did she walk back.  With pride and with great elegance.  And until the gate was closed every man watched her, feeding on such beauty, envious of the Anjin-san, who must be much man for her to wait like that.

‘You’re so pretty,’ Omi said.

‘I wish that were true, Omi-san,’ she said with a second-best smile.  ‘Would you like some cha, Omi-sama?  Or food?’

‘With you, yes.’

Gyoko joined them unctuously.  ‘Please excuse my bad manners, Omi-sama.  Do take food with us now, please.  Have you had a first meal?’

‘No—not yet, but I’m not hungry.’ Omi glanced across at Kiku.  ‘Have you eaten yet?’

Gyoko interrupted expansively, ‘Allow us to bring you something that won’t be too inadequate, Omi-sama.  Kiku-san, when you’ve changed you will join us, neh?‘

‘Of course, please excuse me, Omi-sama, for appearing like this.  So sorry.’  The girl ran off, pretending a happiness she did not feel, Ako in tow.

Omi said shortly, ‘I would like to be with her tonight, for food and entertainment.’

‘Of course, Omi-sama,’ Gyoko replied with a low bow, knowing that she would not be free.  ‘You honor my house and do us too much honor.  Kiku-san is so fortunate that you favor her.’

Three thousand koku?  Toranaga was scandalized.

‘Yes, Sire,’ Mariko said.  They were on the private veranda in the fortress.  Rain had begun already but did not reduce the heat of the day.  She felt listless and very tired and longed for autumn coolness.  ‘I’m sorry, but I could not negotiate the woman down any further.  I talked until just before dawn.  So sorry, Sire, but you did order me to conclude an arrangement last night.’

‘But three thousand, Mariko-san!  That’s usury!’  Actually, Toranaga was glad to have a new problem to take his mind away from the worry that beset him.  The Christian priest Tsukku-san traveling with Zataki, the upstart Regent, augured nothing but trouble.  He had examined every avenue of escape, every route of retreat and attack that any man could imagine and the answer was always the same:  If Ishido moves quickly, I’m lost.

I’ve got to find time.  But how?

If I were Ishido I’d start now, before the rains stop.

I’d get men into position just as the Taikō and I did to destroy the Beppu.  The same plan will always win—it’s so simple!  Ishido can’t be so stupid as not to see that the only real way to defend the Kwanto is to own Osaka, and all the lands between Yedo and Osaka.  As long as Osaka’s unfriendly, the Kwanto’s in danger.  The Taikō knew it, why else did he give it to me?  Without Kiyama, Onoshi, and the barbarian priests. . . .

With an effort Toranaga put tomorrow into its own compartment and concentrated totally on this impossible amount of money.  ‘Three thousand koku’s out of the question!’

‘I agree, Sire.  You’re correct.  It’s my fault entirely.  I thought even five hundred would be excessive but the Gyoko woman would come no lower.  There is one concession though.’

‘What?’

Gyoko begged the honor of reducing the price to two thousand five hundred koku if you would honor her by agreeing to see her privately for one stick of time.’

‘A Mama-san would give up five hundred koku just to speak to me?’

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘Why?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘She told me her reason, Sire, but humbly begged that she be allowed to explain to you herself.  I believe her proposal would be interesting to you, Sire.  And five hundred koku . . . it would be a saving.  I’m appalled that I couldn’t make a better arrangement, even though Kiku-san is of the First Rank and completely merits that status.  I know I’ve failed you.’

‘I agree,’ Toranaga said sourly.  ‘Even one thousand would be too much.  This is Izu not Kyoto!’

‘You’re quite right, Sire.  I told the woman that the price was so ridiculous I could not possibly agree to it myself, even though you’d given me direct orders to complete the bargain last night.  I hope you will forgive my disobedience, but I said that I would first have to consult with Lady Kasigi, Omi-san’s mother, who’s the most senior lady here, before the arrangement was confirmed.’

Toranaga brightened, his other worries forgotten.  ‘Ah, so it’s arranged but not arranged?’

‘Yes, Sire.  Nothing is binding until I can consult with the Lady.  I said I’d give an answer at noon today.  Please forgive my disobedience.’

‘You should have concluded the arrangement as I ordered!’  Toranaga was secretly delighted that Mariko had cleverly given him the opportunity to agree or disagree without any loss of face.  It would have been unthinkable for him personally to quibble over a mere matter of money.  But oh ko, three thousand koku. . . . ‘You say the girl’s contract’s worth enough rice to feed a thousand families for three years?’

‘Worth every grain of rice, to the right man.’

Toranaga eyed her shrewdly.  ‘Oh?  Tell me about her and what happened.’

She told him everything—except her feeling for the Anjin-san and the depth of his feeling toward her.  Or about Kiku’s offer to her.

‘Good.  Yes, very good.  That was clever.  Yes,’ Toranaga said.  ‘He must have pleased her very much for her to stand at the gateway like that the first time.’  Most of Anjiro had been waiting for that moment, to see how the two of them would act, the barbarian and the Willow Lady of the First Rank.

‘Yes.’

‘The three koku invested was well worth it for him.  His fame will run before him now.’

‘Yes,’ Mariko agreed, more than a little proud of Blackthorne’s success.  ‘She’s an exceptional lady, Sire.’

Toranaga was intrigued by Mariko’s confidence in her arrangement.  But five hundred koku for the contract would have been more fair.  Five hundred koku was more than most Mama-sans made in a lifetime, so for one of them even to consider giving away five hundred. . . . ‘Worth every grain, you say?  I can hardly believe that.’

‘To the right man, Sire.  I believe that.  But I could not judge who would be the right man.’

There was a knock on the shoji.

‘Yes?’

‘The Anjin-san’s at the main gate, Sire.’

‘Bring him here.’

‘Yes, Sire.’

Toranaga fanned himself.  He had been watching Mariko covertly and had seen the momentary light in her face.  He had deliberately not warned her that he had sent for him.

What to do?  Everything that is planned still applies.  But now I need Buntaro and the Anjin-san and Omi-san more than ever.  And Mariko, very much.

‘Good morning, Toranaga-sama.’

He returned Blackthorne’s bow and noted the sudden warmth when the man saw Mariko.  There were formal greetings and replies, then he said, ‘Mariko-san, tell him that he is to leave with me at dawn.  You also.  You will continue on to Osaka.’

A chill went through her.  ‘Yes, Sire.’

‘I go Osaka, Toranaga-sama?’ Blackthorne asked.

‘No, Anjin-san.  Mariko-san, tell him I’m going to the Shuzenji Spa for a day or two.  You both will accompany me there.  You’ll go on to Osaka.  He will journey with you to the border, then go on to Yedo alone.’

He watched them narrowly as Blackthorne spoke to her, rapidly and urgently.

‘So sorry, Toranaga-sama, but the Anjin-san humbly asks if he could borrow me for a few more days.  He says, please excuse me, that my presence with him would greatly speed up the matter of his ship.  Then, if it pleases you, he would immediately take one of your coastal ships and ferry me to Osaka, going on to Nagasaki himself.  He suggests this might save time.’

‘I haven’t decided anything about his ship, yet.  Or about a crew.  He may not need to go to Nagasaki.  Make that very clear.  No, nothing is decided.  But I’ll consider the request about you.  You’ll get my decision tomorrow.  You can go now. . . . Oh yes, lastly, Mariko-san, tell him that I want his genealogy.  He can write it down and you’ll translate it, affirming its correctness.’

‘Yes, Sire.  Do you want it at once?’

‘No.  When he arrives at Yedo will be time enough.’

Mariko explained to Blackthorne.

‘Why does he want that?’ he asked.

Mariko stared at him.  ‘Of course all samurai have to have their births and deaths recorded, Anjin-san, as well as their fiefs and land grants.  How else can a liege lord keep everything balanced?  Isn’t it the same in your country?  Here, by law, all our citizens are in official records, even eta:  births, deaths, marriages.  Every hamlet or village or city street has its official scroll.  How else can you be sure where and to whom you belong?’

‘We don’t write it down.  Not always.  And not officially.  Everyone’s recorded?  Everyone?’

‘Oh yes, even eta, Anjin-san.  It’s important, neh?  Then no one can pretend to be what he is not, wrongdoers can be caught more easily, and men and women or parents can’t cheat in marriage, neh?‘

Blackthorne put that aside for later consideration and played another card in the game he had joined with Toranaga that he hoped would lead to the death of the Black Ship.

Mariko listened attentively, questioned him a moment, then turned to Toranaga.  ‘Sire, the Anjin-san thanks you for your favor and your many gifts.  He asks if you would honor him by choosing his two hundred vassals for him.  He says your guidance in this would be worth anything.’

‘Is it worth a thousand koku?’ Toranaga asked at once.  He saw her surprise and the Anjin-san’s.  I’m glad you’re still transparent, Anjin-san, for all your veneer of civilization, he thought.  If I were a gambling person, I’d wager that that wasn’t your idea—to ask for my guidance.

‘Hai,‘ he heard Blackthorne say firmly.

‘Good,’ he replied crisply.  ‘Since the Anjin-san’s so generous, I’ll accept his offer.  One thousand koku.  That will help some other needy samurai.  Tell him his men will be waiting for him in Yedo.  I’ll see you at dawn tomorrow, Anjin-san.’

‘Yes.  Thank you, Toranaga-sama.’

‘Mariko-san, consult with the Lady Kasigi at once.  Since you approved the amount I imagine she’ll agree to your arrangement however hideous it seems, though I’d suppose she’ll need until dawn tomorrow to give such a ridiculous sum her full consideration.  Send some menial to order the Gyoko woman here at sunset.  She can bring the courtesan with her.  Kiku-san can sing while we talk, neh?‘

He dismissed them, delighted to have saved fifteen hundred koku.  People are so extravagant, he thought benignly.

‘Will that leave me enough to get a crew?’ Blackthorne asked.

‘Oh, yes, Anjin-san.  But he hasn’t agreed to allow you to go to Nagasaki yet,’ Mariko said.  ‘Five hundred koku would be more than enough to live on for a year, and the other five hundred will give you about one hundred and eighty koban in gold to buy seamen.  That’s a very great deal of money.’

Fujiko lifted herself painfully and spoke to Mariko.

‘Your consort says that you shouldn’t worry, Anjin-san.  She can give you letters of credit to certain moneylenders who will advance you all that you’ll need.  She’ll arrange everything.’

‘Yes, but haven’t I got to pay all my retainers?  How do I pay for a house, Fujiko-san, my household?’

Mariko was shocked.  ‘Please, so sorry, but this is of course not your worry.  Your consort has told you that she will take care of everything.  She—

Fujiko interrupted and the two women spoke together for a moment.

‘Ah so desu, Fujiko-san!’  Mariko turned back to Blackthorne.  ‘She says you must not waste time thinking about it.  She begs you please to spend your time worrying only about Lord Toranaga’s problems.  She has money of her own which she can draw upon, should it be necessary.’

Blackthorne blinked.  ‘She’ll lend me her own money?’

‘Oh, no, Anjin-san, of course she’ll give it to you, if you need it, Anjin-san.  Don’t forget your problem’s only this year,’ Mariko explained.  ‘Next year you’re rich, Anjin-san.  As to your retainers, for one year they’ll get two koku each.  Don’t forget Toranaga-sama’s giving you all their arms and horses, and two koku’s enough to feed them and their horses and families.  And don’t forget, too, you gave Lord Toranaga half your year’s income to ensure that they would be chosen by him personally.  That’s a tremendous honor, Anjin-san.’

‘You think so?’

‘Oh certainly.  Fujiko-san agrees wholeheartedly.  You were most shrewd to think of that.’

‘Thank you.’  Blackthorne allowed a little of his pleasure to show.  You’re getting your wits back again and you’re beginning to think like them, he told himself happily.  Yes, that was clever to co-opt Toranaga.  Now you’ll get the best men possible, and you could never have done it alone.  What’s a thousand koku against the Black Ship?  So yet another of the things Mariko had said was true:  that one of Toranaga’s weaknesses was that he was a miser.  Of course, she had not said so directly, only that Toranaga made all his incredible wealth go further than any daimyo in the kingdom.  This clue, added to his own observations—that Toranaga’s clothes were as simple as his food, and his style of living little different from that of an ordinary samurai—had given him another key to unlock Toranaga.

Thank God for Mariko and old Friar Domingo!

Blackthorne’s memory took him back to the jail and he thought how close he had been to death then, and how close he was to death now, even with all his honors.  What Toranaga gives, he can take away.  You think he’s your friend, but if he’ll assassinate a wife and murder a favorite son, how would you value his friendship or your life?  I don’t, Blackthorne told himself, renewing his pledge.  That’s karma.  I can do nothing about karma and I’ve been living near death all my life, so nothing’s new.  I yield to karma in all its beauty.  I accept karma in all its majesty.  I trust karma to get me through the next six months.  Then, by this time next year, I’ll be scudding through Magellan’s Pass, bound for London Town, out of his reach. . . .

Fujiko was talking.  He watched her.  The bandages were still discolored.  She was lying painfully on the futons, a maid fanning her.

‘She’ll arrange everything for you by dawn, Anjin-san,’ Mariko said.  ‘Your consort suggests you take two horses and a baggage horse.  One man servant and one maid—’

‘A man servant’ll be enough.’

‘So sorry, the maid servant must go to serve you.  And of course a cook and a cook helper.’

‘Won’t there be kitchens that we—I can use?’

‘Oh, yes.  But you still have to have your own cooks, Anjin-san.  You’re a hatamoto.’

He knew there was no point in arguing.  ‘I’ll leave everything to you.’

‘Oh, that’s so wise of you, Anjin-san, very wise.  Now I must go and pack, please excuse me.’  Mariko left happily.  They had not talked much, just enough in Latin for each to know that though the magic night had never come to pass and was, like the other night, never to be discussed, both would live in their imaginations forever.

‘Thou.’

‘Thou.’

‘I was so proud when I heard she stood at the gate for such a long time.  Thy face is immense now, Anjin-san.’

‘For a moment I almost forgot what thou hadst told me.  Involuntarily I was within a hair’s distance of kissing her in public.’

‘Oh ko, Anjin-san, that would have been terrible!’

‘Oh ko, thou art right!  If it had not been for thee I would be faceless—a worm wriggling in the dust.’

‘Instead, thou art vast and famous and thy prowess undoubted.  Didst thou enjoy one of those curious devices?’

‘Ah, fair Lady, in my land we have an ancient custom:  A man does not discuss the intimate habits of one lady with another.’

‘We have the same custom.  But I asked if it was enjoyed, not used.  Yes, we very much have the same custom.  I am glad that the evening was to thy liking.’  Her smile was warming.  ‘To be Japanese in Japan is wise, neh?‘

‘I cannot thank thee enough for teaching me, for guiding me, for opening my eyes,’ he said.  ‘For—’  He was going to say, for loving me.  Instead he added, ‘for being.’

‘I have done nothing.  Thou art thyself.’

‘I thank thee, for everything—and thy gift.’

‘I am glad thy pleasure was great.’

‘I am sad thy pleasure was nil.  I am so glad that thou art also ordered to the Spa.  But why to Osaka?’

‘Oh, I am not ordered to Osaka.  Lord Toranaga allows me to go.  We have property and family business matters that must be seen to.  Also, my son is there now.  Then too, I can carry private messages to Kiritsubo-san and the Lady Sazuko.’

‘Isn’t that dangerous?  Remember thy words—war is coming and Ishido is the enemy.  Did not Lord Toranaga say the same?’

‘Yes.  But there is no war yet, Anjin-san.  And samurai do not war on their women, unless women war on them.’

‘But thou?  What about the bridge at Osaka, across the moat?  Did thou not go with me to dupe Ishido?  He would have killed me.  And remember thy sword at the fight on the ship.’

‘Ah, that was only to protect the life of my liege Lord, and my own life, when it was threatened.  That was my duty, Anjin-san, nothing more.  There is no danger for me.  I have been lady-in-waiting to Lady Yodoko, the Taikō’s widow, even the Lady Ochiba, mother of the Heir.  I’m honored to be their friend.  I’m quite safe.  That’s why Toranaga-sama allows me to go.  But for thee in Osaka there is no safety, because of Lord Toranaga’s escape, and of what was done to Lord Ishido.  So thou must never land there.  Nagasaki will be safe for thee.’

‘Then he has agreed that I may go?’

‘No.  Not yet.  But when he does it will be safe.  He has power in Nagasaki.’

He wanted to ask, ‘Greater than the Jesuits’?  Instead he said only, ‘I pray Lord Toranaga orders thee by ship to Osaka.’  He saw her tremble slightly.  ‘What troubles thee?’

‘Nothing, except . . . except that the sea does not please me.’

‘Will he order it thus?’

‘I don’t know.  But . . .’  She changed back into the mischievous teaser, and into Portuguese.  ‘But for your health we should bring Kiku-san along with us, neh?  Tonight, are you going again into her Vermilion Chamber?’

He laughed with her.  ‘That’d be fine, though—’  Then he stopped, as with sudden clarity he remembered Omi’s look.  ‘You know, Mariko-san, when I was at the gate I’m sure I saw Omi-san looking at her in a very special way, as a lover would look.  A jealous lover.  I didn’t know they were lovers.’

‘I understand he’s one of her customers, a favored customer, yes.  But why should that concern you?’

‘Because it was a very private look.  Very special.’

‘He has no special claim on her, Anjin-san.  She’s a courtesan of the First Rank.  She’s free to accept or reject whom she pleases.’

‘If we were in Europe, and I pillowed his girl—you understand, Mariko-san?’

‘I think I understand, Anjin-san, but why should that concern you?  You’re not in Europe, Anjin-san, he has no formal claim on her.  If she wants to accept you and him, or even reject you or reject him, what has that to do with anything?’

‘I’d say he was her lover, in our sense of the word.  That’s got everything to do with it, neh?‘

‘But what has that to do with her profession, or pillowing?’

Eventually he had thanked her again and left it at that.  But his head and his heart told him to beware.  It’s not as simple as you think, Mariko-san, even here.  Omi believes Kiku-san’s more than special, even if she doesn’t feel the same.  Wish I’d known he was her lover.  I’d rather have Omi a friend than an enemy.  Could Mariko be right again?  That pillowing has nothing to do with loving for them?

God help me, I’m so mixed up.  Part Eastern now, mostly Western.  I’ve got to act like them and think like them to stay alive.  And much of what they believe is so much better than our way that it’s tempting to want to become one of them totally, and yet . . . home is there, across the sea, where my ancestors were birthed, where my family lives, Felicity and Tudor and Elizabeth.  Neh?

‘Anjin-san?’

‘Yes, Fujiko-san?’

‘Please don’t worry about money.  I can’t bear to see you worried.  I’m so sorry that I cannot go to Yedo with you.’

‘Soon see in Yedo, neh?‘

‘Yes.  The doctor says I’m healing well and Omi’s mother agrees.’

‘When doctor here?’

‘Sunset.  So sorry I cannot go with you tomorrow.  Please excuse me.

He wondered again about his duty to his consort.  Then he put that thought back into its compartment as a new one rushed forward.  He examined this idea and found it fine.  And urgent.  ‘I go now, come back soon.  You rest—understand?’

‘Yes.  Please excuse me for not getting up, and for . . . so sorry.’

He left her and went to his own room.  He took a pistol out of its hiding place, checked the priming, and stuck it under his kimono.  Then he walked alone to Omi’s house.  Omi was not there.  Midori welcomed him and offered cha, which he politely refused.  Her two-year-old infant was in her arms.  She said, so sorry, but Omi would return soon.  Would the Anjin-san like to wait?  She seemed ill at ease, though polite and attentive.  Again he refused and thanked her, saying he would come back later, then he went below to his own house.

Villagers had already cleared the ground, preparing to rebuild everything.  Nothing had been salvaged from the fire except cooking utensils.  Fujiko would not tell him the cost of rebuilding.  It was very cheap, she had said.  Please don’t concern yourself.

‘Karma, Anjin-sama,’ one of the villagers said.

‘Yes.’

‘What could one do?  Don’t worry, your house will soon be ready—better than before.’

Blackthorne saw Omi walking up the hill, taut and stern.  He went to meet him.  When Omi saw him, he seemed to lose some of his fury.  ‘Ah, Anjin-san,’ he said cordially.  ‘I hear you’re also leaving with Toranga-sama at dawn.  Very good, we can ride together.’

Despite Omi’s apparent friendliness, Blackthorne was very much on guard.

‘Listen, Omi-san, now I go there.’  He pointed toward the plateau.  ‘Please you go with me, yes?’

‘There’s no training today.’

‘Understand.  Please you go with me, yes?’

Omi saw that Blackthorne’s hand was on the hilt of his killing sword in the characteristic way, steadying it.  Then his sharp eyes noticed the bulge under the sash and he realized at once from its partially outlined shape that it was a concealed pistol.  ‘A man who’s allowed the two swords should be able to use them, not just wear them, neh?‘ he asked thinly.

‘Please?  I don’t understand.’

Omi said it again, more simply.

‘Ah, understand.  Yes.  It better.’

‘Yes. Lord Yabu said—now that you’re completely samurai—that you should begin to learn much that we take for granted.  How to act as a second at a seppuku, for example—even to prepare for your own seppuku as we’re all obliged to do.  Yes, Anjin-san, you should learn to use the swords.  Very necessary for a samurai to know how to use and honor his sword, neh?‘

Blackthorne did not understand half the words.  But he knew what Omi was saying.  At least, he corrected himself uneasily, I know what he’s saying on the surface.

‘Yes.  True.  Important,’ he told him.  ‘Please, one day you teaches—sorry, you teach perhaps?  Please?  I honored.’

‘Yes—I’d like to teach you, Anjin-san.’

Blackthorne’s hackles rose at the implied threat in Omi’s voice.  Watch it, he admonished himself.  Don’t start imagining things.  ‘Thank you.  Now walk there, please?  Little time.  You go with?  Yes?’

‘Very well, Anjin-san.  But we’ll ride.  I’ll join you shortly.’  Omi walked off up the hill, into his own courtyard.

Blackthorne ordered a servant to saddle his horse and mounted awkwardly from the right side, as was custom in Japan and China.  Don’t think there’d be much future in letting him teach me swordsmanship, he told himself, his right hand nudging the concealed pistol safer, its pleasing warmth reassuring.  This confidence vanished when Omi reappeared.  With him were four mounted samurai.

Together they all cantered up the broken road toward the plateau.  They passed many samurai companies in full marching gear, armed, under their officers, spear pennants fluttering.  When they crested the rise, they saw that the entire Musket Regiment was drawn up outside the camp in route order, each man standing beside his armed horse, a baggage train in the rear, Yabu, Naga, and their officers in the van.  The rain began to fall heavily.

‘All troops go?’ Blackthorne asked, perturbed, and reined in his horse.

‘Yes.’

‘Go Spa with Toranaga-sama, Omi-san?’

‘I don’t know.’

Blackthorne’s sense of survival warned him to ask no more questions.  But one needed to be answered.  ‘And Buntaro-sama?’ he asked indifferently.  ‘He with us tomorrow, Omi-san?’

‘No.  He’s already gone.  This morning he was in the square when you left the Tea House.  Didn’t you see him, near the Tea House?’

Blackthorne could read nothing untoward in Omi’s face.  ‘No.  Not see, so sorry.  He go Spa too?’

‘I suppose so.  I’m not sure.’  The rain dripped off Omi’s conical hat, which was tied under his chin.  His eyes were almost hidden.  ‘Now, why did you want me to come here with you?’

‘Show place, like I say.’  Before Omi could say anything more, Blackthorne spurred his horse forward.  With his most careful sea sense he took accurate bearings from memory and went quickly to the exact point over the crevasse.  He dismounted and beckoned Omi.  ‘Please.’

‘What is it, eh?’  Omi’s voice was edged.

‘Please, here Omi-san.  Alone.’

Omi waved his guards away and spurred forward until he towered over Blackthorne.  ‘Nan desu ka?‘ he asked, his hand seemingly tightening on his sword.

‘This place Toranaga-sama . . .’  Blackthorne could not think of the words, so explained partially with his hands.  ‘Understand?’

‘Here you pulled him out of the earth, neh?  So?’

Blackthorne looked at him, then deliberately down at his sword, then stared up at him again saying nothing more.  He wiped the rain out of his face.

‘Nan desu ka?‘ Omi repeated more irritably.

Still Blackthorne didn’t answer.  Omi stared down at the crevasse and again at Blackthorne’s face.  Then his eyes lit up.  ‘Ah, so desu!  Wakarimasu!‘  Omi thought a moment then called out to one of the guards, ‘Get Mura here at once.  With twenty men and shovels!’

The samurai galloped off.  Omi sent the others back to the village, then dismounted and stood beside Blackthorne.  ‘Yes, Anjin-san,’ he said, ‘that’s an excellent thought.  A good idea.’

‘Idea?  What idea?’  Blackthorne asked innocently.  ‘Just show place—think you want know place, neh?  So sorry—don’t understand.’

Omi said, ‘Toranaga-sama lost his swords here.  Swords very valuable.  He’ll be happy to get them back.  Very happy, neh?‘

‘Ah so!  No my idea, Omi-san, ‘ Blackthorne said.  ‘Omi-san idea.’

‘Of course.  Thank you, Anjin-san.  You’re a good friend and your mind’s fast.  I should have thought of that myself.  Yes, you’re a good friend and we’ll all need friends for the next few months.  War’s with us now whether we want it or not.’

‘Please?  So sorry.  I don’t understand, speak too fast.  Please excuse.’

‘Glad we’re friends—you and me.  Understand?’

‘Hai.  You say war?  War now?’

‘Soon.  What can we do?  Nothing.  Don’t worry, Toranaga-sama will conquer Ishido and his traitors.  That’s the truth, understand?  No worry, neh?‘

‘Understand.  I go now, my house.  All right?’

‘Yes.  See you at dawn.  Again thank you.’

Blackthorne nodded.  But he did not leave.  ‘She’s pretty, neh?‘

‘What?’

‘Kiku-san.’  Blackthorne’s legs were slightly apart and he was poised to jump back and pull out the pistol, and aim it and fire it.  He remembered with total clarity the unbelievable, effortless speed that Omi had used to decapitate the first villager so long ago, and he was ready as best he could be.  He reasoned his only safety was to precipitate the matter of Kiku.  Omi would never do it.  Omi would consider such bad manners unthinkable.  And, filled with shame at his own weakness, Omi would lock his very un-Japanese jealousy away into a secret compartment.  Because it was so alien and shamefilled, this jealousy would fester until, when it was least expected, Omi would explode blindly and ferociously.

‘Kiku-san?’ Omi said.

‘Hai.‘  Blackthorne could see that Omi was rocked.  Even so he was glad he had chosen the time and the place.  ‘She’s pretty, neh?‘

‘Pretty?’

‘Hai.‘

The rain increased.  The heavy drops spattered the mud.  Their horses shivered uncomfortably.  Both men were soaked but the rain was warm and it ran off them.

‘Yes,’ Omi said.  ‘Kiku-san is very pretty,’ and followed it with a torrent of words Blackthorne did not fathom.

‘No words enough now, Omi-san—not enough to speak clear now,’ Blackthorne said.  ‘Later yes.  Not now.  Understand?’

Omi seemed not to hear.  Then he said, ‘There’s plenty of time, Anjin-san, plenty of time to talk about her, and about you and me and karma.  But I agree, now is not the time, neh?‘

‘Think understand.  Yes.  Yesterday not know Omi-san and Kiku-san good friends,’ he said, pressing the attack.

‘She’s not my property.’

‘Now know you and her very friends.  Now—’

‘Now leave.  This matter is closed.  The woman is nothing.  Nothing.’

Stubbornly Blackthorne stayed where he was.  ‘Next time I—’

‘This conversation is over!  Didn’t you hear?  Finished!’

‘Iyé!  Iyé, by God!’

Omi’s hand went for his sword.  Blackthorne leaped back two paces without realizing it.  But Omi did not draw his sword and Blackthorne did not pull out his pistol.  Both men readied, though neither wanted to begin.

‘What do you want to say, Anjin-san?’

‘Next time, first I ask—about Kiku-san.  If Omi-san say yes—yes.  If no—no!  Understand? Friend to friend, neh?‘

Omi relaxed his sword hand slightly.  ‘I repeat—she’s not my property.  Thank you for showing me this place, Anjin-san.  Goodbye.’

‘Friend?’

‘Of course.’  Omi walked over to Blackthorne’s horse and held the bridle.  Blackthorne swung into the saddle.

He looked down at Omi.  If he could have got away with it he knew he would have blown the samurai’s head off right now.  That would be his safest course.  ‘Goodbye, Omi-san, and thank you.’

‘Goodbye, Anjin-san.’  Omi watched Blackthorne ride off and did not turn his back until he was over the rise.  He marked the exact place in the crevasse with some stones and then, in turmoil, squatted on his haunches to wait, oblivious of the deluge.

Soon Mura and the peasants arrived, bespattered with mud.

‘Toranaga-sama fell into the crevasse exactly at this point, Mura.  His swords are buried here.  Bring them to me before sunset.’

‘Yes, Omi-sama.’

‘If you’d had any brains, if you were interested in me, your liege Lord, you would have done it already.’

‘Please excuse my stupidity.’

Omi rode off.  They watched him briefly, then spread themselves out in a circle around the stones, and began to dig.

Mura dropped his voice.  ‘Uo, you’ll go with the baggage train.’

‘Yes, Mura-san.  But how?’

‘I’ll offer you to the Anjin-san.  He won’t know any different.’

‘But his consort, oh ko, she will,’ Uo whispered back.

‘She’s not going with him.  I hear her burns are bad.  She’s to go by ship to Yedo later.  You know what to do?’

‘Seek out the Holy Father privately, answer any questions.’

‘Yes.’  Mura relaxed and began to talk normally.  ‘You can go with the Anjin-san, Uo, he’ll pay well.  Make yourself useful, but not too useful or he’ll take you all the way to Yedo.’

Uo laughed.  ‘Hey, I hear Yedo’s so rich everyone pisses into silver pots—even eta.  And the women have skins like sea foam with no pubics at all.’

‘Is that true, Mura-san?’ another villager asked.  ‘They’ve no short hair?’

‘Yedo was just a stinking little fishing village, nothing as good as Anjiro, when I was there the first time,’ Mura told them, without stopping digging.  ‘That was with Toranaga-sama when we were all hunting down the Beppu.  We took more than three thousand heads between us.  As to pubics, all the girls I’ve known had them, except one from Korea, but she said she’d had them plucked, one by one.’

‘What some women will do to attract us, heh?’ someone said.

‘Yes.  But I’d like to see that,’ Ninjin said toothlessly.  ‘Yes, I’d like to see a Jade Gate without a bush.’

‘I’d gamble a boatload of fish against a bucket of shit that it hurt to pull out those hairs.’ Uo whistled.

‘When I’m a kami I’m going to inhabit Kiku-san’s Heavenly Pavilion!  They say she was born perfumed and hairless!’

Amid laughter, Uo asked, ‘Did it make any difference, Mura-san, to attack the Jade Gate without the bush?’

‘It was the nearest I ever got.  Eeeeh!  I got closer and deeper than ever before and that’s important, neh?  So I know it’s always better for the girl to take off the bush though some are superstitious about it and some complain of the itch.  It’s still closer for you and so closer for her—and getting close makes all the difference, neh?‘  They laughed and put their backs into the digging.  The pit grew under the rain.

‘I’ll wager the Anjin-san got plenty close last night for her to stand at the gateway like that!  Eeee, what wouldn’t I give to have been him.’  Uo wiped the sweat off his brow.  Like all of them he wore only a loincloth and a bamboo, conical hat, and was barefoot.

‘Eeee!  I was there, Uo, in the square, and I saw it all.  I saw her smile and I felt it down through my Fruit and into my toes.’

‘Yes,’ another said.  ‘I have to admit just her smile made me stiff as an oar.’

‘But not as big as the Anjin-san, eh, Mura-san?’  Uo chuckled.  ‘Go on, please tell us the story again.’

Happily Mura obliged and told about the first night and the bath house.  His story had improved in the many tellings, but none of them minded.

‘Oh, to be so vast!’  Uo mimed carrying a giant erection before him, and laughed so much he slipped in the mud.

‘Who’d have thought the barbarian stranger’d ever get from the pit to paradise?’  Mura leaned on his shovel a moment, collecting his breath.  ‘I’d never have believed it—like an ancient legend.  Karma, neh?‘

‘Perhaps he was one of us—in a previous life—and he’s come back with the same mind but a different skin.’

Ninjin nodded.  ‘That’s possible.  Must be—because from what the Holy Father said I thought he’d be burning in the Devil’s Hell Furnace long since.  Didn’t the Father say he’d put a special curse on him?  I heard him bring down the vengeance of the great Jesus kami himself on the Anjin-san and, oh ko, even I was very frightened.’  He crossed himself and the others hardly noticed.  ‘But the Jesus Christ Madonna God punishes His enemies very strangely if you ask me.’

Uo said, ‘Well, I’m not a Christian, as well you know, but, so sorry, it seems to me the Anjin-san’s a good man, please excuse me, and better than the Christian Father who stank and cursed and frightened everyone.  And he’s been good to us, neh?  He treats his people well—some say he’s Lord Toranaga’s friend, must be with all his honors, neh?  And don’t forget Kiku-san honored him with her Golden Gully.’

‘It’s golden all right.  I heard the night cost him five koban!’

‘Fifteen koku for one night?’ Ninjin spluttered.  ‘Eeeeeee, how lucky the Anjin-san is!  His karma’s vast for an enemy of God the Father, Son, and Madonna.’

Mura said, ‘He paid one koban—three koku.  But if you think that’s a lot . . .’  He stopped and looked around conspiratorially to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, though of course in this rain he knew there would be none—and even if there were, what did that matter?

They all stopped and moved closer.  ‘Yes, Mura-san?’

‘I just had it whispered to me she’s going to be Lord Toranaga’s consort.  He bought her contract this morning.  Three thousand koku.‘

It was a mind-boggling figure, more than their whole village earned in fish and rice in twenty years.  Their respect for her increased, if that were possible.  And for the Anjin-san, who was therefore the last man on earth to enjoy her as a courtesan of the First Rank.

‘Eeee!’ Uo mumbled, hard put to talk.  ‘So much money—I don’t know whether I want to vomit or piss or fart.’

‘Do none,’ said Mura laconically.  ‘Dig.  Let’s find the swords.’

They obeyed, each lost in his own thoughts.  Inexorably, the pit was deepening.

Soon Ninjin, whipped by worry, could contain himself no longer, and he stopped digging.  ‘Mura-san, please excuse me, but what have you decided about the new taxes?’ he asked.  The others stopped.

Mura kept on digging at his methodical, grinding pace.  ‘What’s there to decide?  Yabu-sama says pay, so we pay, neh?‘

‘But Toranaga-sama cut our taxes to four parts out of ten and he’s our liege Lord now.’

‘True.  But Lord Yabu was given back Izu—and Suruga and Totomi as well—and made overlord again, so who is our liege Lord?’

‘Toranaga-sama.  Surely, Mura-san, Tora—’

‘Are you going to complain to him, Ninjin?  Eh?  Wake up, Yabu-sama’s overlord as he always was.  Nothing’s changed.  And if he puts up taxes we pay more taxes.  Finish!’

‘But that’ll take all our winter stocks.  All of them.’  Ninjin’s voice was an infuriating whine but all knew the truth of what he said.  ‘Even with the rice we stole—’

‘The rice we’ve saved,’ Uo hissed at him, correcting him.

‘Even with that, there won’t be enough to last through winter.  We’ll have to sell a boat or two—’

‘We sell no boats,’ Mura said.  He jabbed his shovel into the mud and wiped the sweat out of his eyes, retied the string of his hat more firmly.  Then he began to dig again.  ‘Work, Ninjin.  That will take your mind off tomorrow.’

‘How do we last the winter, Mura-san?’

‘We still have to get through the summer.’

‘Yes,’ Ninjin agreed bitterly.  ‘We’ve paid more than two years’ taxes in advance, and still it’s not enough.’

‘Karma, Ninjin,’ Uo said.

‘War’s coming.  Perhaps we’ll get a new lord who’ll be fairer, neh?‘ another said.

‘He can’t be worse—no one can be worse.’

‘Don’t wager on that,’ Mura told them all.  ‘You’re alive—you can be very dead very quickly and then no more Golden Gullies, with or without the forest.’  His shovel hit a rock and he stopped.  ‘Give me a hand, Uo, old friend.’

Together they fought the rock out of the mud.  Uo whispered anxiously, ‘Mura-san, what if the Holy Father asks about the weapons?’

‘Tell him.  And tell him we’re ready—that Anjiro’s ready.’