Shōgun

by James Clavell

  Heaven on earth is here.

  CHAPTER 41

  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 corning 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, corning 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 tide 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 longstanding 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 a
bout 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.