Shōgun

by James Clavell

  They all shook their heads.

  “Have you ever done likewise?”

  “No, Father.”

  “You, sinner! Before God, you admit your sin?”

  “Yes, Father, I’ve already con—”

  “Before God, is this the first time?”

  “No, this was not the first time,” Joseph said. “I—I went with another four nights ago—in Mishima.”

  “But … but yesterday we said Mass! What about your confession yesterday and the night before and the one before that, you didn’t—Yesterday we said Mass! For the love of God, you took the Eucharist unconfessed, with full knowledge of a mortal sin?”

  Brother Joseph was gray with shame. He had been with the Jesuits since he was eight. “It was the—it was the first time, Father. Only four days ago. I’ve been sinless all my life. Again I was tempted—and, the Blessed Madonna forgive me, this time I failed. I’m thirty. I’m a man—we’re all men. Please, the Lord Jesus Father forgave sinners—why can’t you forgive me? We’re all men—”

  “We’re all priests!”

  “We’re not real priests! We’re not professed—we’re not even ordained! We’re not real Jesuits. We can’t take the fourth vow like you, Father,” Joseph said sullenly. “Other Orders ordain their brethren but not the Jesuits. Why shouldn’t—”

  “Hold your tongue!”

  “I won’t!” Joseph flared. “Please excuse me, Father, but why shouldn’t some of us be ordained?” He pointed at one of the Brothers, a tall, round-faced man who watched serenely. “Why shouldn’t Brother Michael be ordained? He’s studied since he was twelve. Now he’s thirty-six and a perfect Christian, almost a saint. He’s converted thousands but he’s still not been ordained though—”

  “In the name of God, you will—”

  “In the name of God, Father, why can’t one of us be ordained? Someone has to dare to ask you!” Joseph was on his feet now. “I’ve been training for sixteen years, Brother Matteo for twenty-three, Juliao more, all our lives—countless years. We know the prayers and catechisms and hymns better than you, and Michael and I even speak Latin as well as Portu—”

  “Stop!”

  “—Portuguese, and we do most of the preaching and debating with the Buddhists and all the other idolaters and do most of the converting. We do! In the name of God and the Madonna, what’s wrong with us? Why aren’t we good enough for Jesuits? Is it just because we’re not Portuguese or Spanish, or because we’re not hairy or round-eyed? In the name of God, Father, why isn’t there an ordained Japanese Jesuit?”

  “Now you will hold your tongue!”

  “We’ve even been to Rome, Michael, Juliao, and me,” Joseph burst out. “You’ve never been to Rome or met the Father-General or His Holiness the Pope as we’ve done—”

  “Which is another reason you should know better than to argue. You’re vowed to chastity, poverty, and obedience. You were chosen among the many, favored out of the many, and now you’ve let your soul get so corrupted that—”

  “So sorry, Father, but I don’t think we were favored to spend eight years going there and coming back if after all our learning and praying and preaching and waiting not one of us is ordained even though it’s been promised. I was twelve when I left. Juliao was elev—”

  “I forbid you to say any more! I order you to stop.” Then in the awful silence Alvito looked at the others, who lined the walls, watching and listening closely. “You will all be ordained in time. But you, Joseph, before God you will—”

  “Before God,” Joseph erupted, “in whose time?”

  “In God’s time,” Alvito slammed back, stunned by the open rebellion, his zeal blazing. “Get-down-on-your-knees!”

  Brother Joseph tried to stare him down but he could not, then his fit passing, he exhaled, sank to his knees, and bowed his head.

  “May God have mercy on you. You are self-confessed to hideous mortal sin, guilty of breaking your Holy vow of chastity, your Holy vow of obedience to your superiors. And guilty of unbelievable insolence. How dare you question our General’s orders or the policy of the Church? You have jeopardized your immortal soul. You are a disgrace to your God, your Company, your Church, your family, and your friends. Your case is so serious it will have to be dealt with by the Visitor-General himself. Until that time you will not take communion, you will not be confessed or hear confession or any part in any service….” Joseph’s shoulders began shaking with the agony of remorse that possessed him. “As initial penance you are forbidden to talk, you will have only rice and water for thirty days, you will spend every night for the next thirty nights on your knees in prayer to the Blessed Madonna for forgiveness for your hideous sins, and further you will be scourged. Thirty lashes. Take off your cassock.”

  The shoulders stopped trembling. Joseph looked up. “I accept everything you’ve ordered, Father,” he said, “and I apologize with all my heart, with all my soul. I beg your forgiveness as I will beg His forgiveness forever. But I will not be lashed like a common criminal.”

  “You-will-be-scourged!”

  “Please excuse me, Father,” Joseph said. “In the name of the Blessed Madonna, it’s not the pain. Pain is nothing to me, death is nothing to me. That I’m damned and will burn in hellfire for all eternity may be my karma, and I will endure it. But I’m samurai. I’m of Lord Harima’s family.”

  “Your pride sickens me. It’s not for the pain you’re to be punished, but to remove your disgusting pride. Common criminal? Where is your humility? Our Lord Jesus Christ endured mortification. And he died with common criminals.”

  “Yes. That’s our major problem here, Father.”

  “What?”

  “Please excuse my bluntness, Father, but if the King of Kings had not died like a common criminal on the cross, samurai could accept—”

  “Stop!”

  “—Christianity more easily. The Society’s wise to avoid preaching Christ crucified like the other Orders—”

  Like an avenging angel, Alvito held up his cross as a shield in front of him. “In the name of God, keep silent and obey or-you-are-excommunicated! Seize him and strip him!”

  The others came to life and moved forward, but Joseph sprang to his feet. A knife appeared in his hand from under his robes. He put his back to the wall. Everyone stopped in his tracks. Except Brother Michael. Brother Michael came forward slowly and calmly, his hand outstretched. “Please give me the knife, Brother,” he said gently.

  “No. Please excuse me.”

  “Then pray for me, Brother, as I pray for you.” Michael quietly reached up for the weapon.

  Joseph darted a few paces back, then readied for a death thrust. “Forgive me, Michael.”

  Michael continued to approach.

  “Michael, stop! Leave him alone,” Alvito commanded.

  Michael obeyed, inches from the hovering blade.

  Then Alvito said, ashen, “God have mercy on you, Joseph. You are excommunicated. Satan has possessed your soul on earth as he will possess it after death. Get thee gone!”

  “I renounce the Christian God! I’m Japanese—I’m Shinto. My soul’s my own now. I’m not afraid,” Joseph shouted. “Yes, we’ve pride—unlike barbarians. We’re Japanese, we’re not barbarians. Even our peasants are not barbarians.”

  Gravely Alvito made the sign of the cross as protection for all of them and fearlessly turned his back on the knife. “Let us pray together, Brothers. Satan is in our midst.”

  The others also turned away, many sadly, some still in shock. Only Michael remained where he was, looking at Joseph. Joseph ripped off his rosary and cross. He was going to hurl it away but Michael held out his hand again. “Please, Brother, please give it to me—it is such a simple gift,” he said.

  Joseph looked at him a long moment, then he gave it to him. “Please excuse me.”

  “I will pray for you,” Michael said.

  “Didn’t you hear? I’ve renounced God!”

  “I will pray that God will not renoun
ce you, Uraga-noh-Tadamasasan.”

  “Forgive me, Brother,” Joseph said. He stuck the knife in his sash, jerked the door open, and walked blindly along the corridor out onto the veranda. People watched him curiously, among them Uo the fisherman, who was waiting patiently in the shadows. Joseph crossed the courtyard and went toward the gate. A samurai stood in his way.

  “Halt!”

  Joseph stopped.

  “Where are you going, please?”

  “I’m sorry, please excuse me, I—I don’t know.”

  “I serve Lord Toranaga. So sorry, I couldn’t help hearing what went on in there. The whole inn must have heard. Shocking bad manners … shocking for your leader to shout like that and disturb the peace. And you too. I’m on duty here. I think it’s best you see the officer of my watch.”

  “I think—thank you, I’ll go the other way. Please excuse—”

  “You’ll go nowhere, so sorry. Except to see my officer.”

  “What? Oh—yes. Yes, I’m sorry, of course.” Joseph tried to make his brain work.

  “Good. Thank you.” The samurai turned as another samurai approached from the bridge and saluted.

  “I’m to fetch the Tsukku-san for Lord Toranaga.”

  “Good. You’re expected.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Toranaga watched the tall priest approach across the clearing, the flickering light of the torches making the lean face starker than usual above the blackness of his beard. The priest’s orange Buddhist robe was elegant and a rosary and cross hung at his waist.

  Ten paces away Father Alvito stopped, knelt, and bowed deferentially, beginning the customary formalities.

  Toranaga was sitting alone on the dais, guards in a semicircle around him, well out of hearing. Only Blackthorne was nearby and he lolled against the platform as he had been ordered, his eyes boring into the priest. Alvito appeared not to notice him.

  “It is good to see you, Sire,” Father Alvito said when it was polite to do so.

  “And to see you, Tsukku-san.” Toranaga motioned the priest to make himself comfortable on the cushion that had been placed on a tatami on the ground in front of the platform. “It’s a long time since I saw you.”

  “Yes, Sire, there’s much to tell.” Alvito was deeply conscious that the cushion was on the earth and not on the dais. Also, he was acutely aware of the samurai swords that Blackthorne now wore so near to Toranaga and the way he slouched with such indifference. “I bring a confidential message from my superior, the Father-Visitor, who greets you with deference.”

  “Thank you. But first, tell me about you.”

  “Ah, Sire,” Alvito said, knowing that Toranaga was far too discerning not to have noticed the remorse that beset him, much as he had tried to throw it off. “Tonight I’m too aware of my own failings. Tonight I’d like to be allowed to put off my earthly duties and go into a retreat to pray, to beg for God’s favor.” He was shamed by his own lack of humility. Although Joseph’s sin had been terrible, Alvito had acted with haste and anger and stupidity. It was his fault that a soul had been outcast, to be lost forever. “Our Lord once said, ‘Please, Father, let this cup pass from me.’ But even He had to retain the cup. We, in the world, we have to try to follow in His footsteps as best we can. Please excuse me for allowing my problem to show.”

  “What was your ‘cup,’ old friend?”

  Alvito told him. He knew there was no reason to hide the facts for, of course, Toranaga would hear them very soon if he did not already know them, and it was much better to hear the truth than a garbled version. “It’s so very sad to lose a Brother, terrible to make one an outcast, however terrible the crime. I should have been more patient. It was my fault.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I don’t know, Sire.”

  Toranaga called a guard. “Find the renegade Christian and bring him to me at noon tomorrow.” The samurai hurried away.

  “I beg mercy for him, Sire,” Alvito said quickly, meaning it. But he knew whatever he said would do little to dissuade Toranaga from a path already chosen. Again he wished the Society had its own secular arm empowered to arrest and punish apostates, like elsewhere in the world. He had repeatedly recommended that this be created but he had always been overruled, here in Japan, and also in Rome by the General of the Order. Yet without our own secular arm, he thought tiredly, we’ll never be able to exercise real discipline over our Brethren and our flock.

  “Why aren’t there ordained priests within your Society, Tsukku-san?”

  “Because, Sire, not one of our acolytes is yet sufficiently well trained. For instance, Latin is an absolute necessity because our Order requires any Brother to travel anywhere in the world at any time, and Latin, unfortunately, is very difficult to learn. Not one is trained yet, or ready.”

  Alvito believed this with all his heart. He was also bitterly opposed to a Japanese-ordained Jesuit clergy, in opposition to the Father-Visitor. ‘Eminence,’ he had always said, ‘I beg you, don’t be fooled by their modest and decorous exterior. Underneath they’re all unreliable characters, and their pride and Japaneseness will always dominate in the end. They’ll never be true servants of the Society, or reliable soldiers of His Holiness, the Vicar of Christ on earth, obedient to him alone. Never.’

  Alvito glanced momentarily at Blackthorne then back to Toranaga, who said, “But two or three of these apprentice priests speak Latin, neh, and Portuguese? It’s true what that man said, neh? Why haven’t they been chosen?”

  “So sorry, but the General of our Society doesn’t consider them sufficiently prepared. Perhaps Joseph’s tragic fall is an example.”

  “Bad to break a solemn oath,” Toranaga said. He remembered the year the three boys had sailed off from Nagasaki in a Black Ship to be feted in the court of the Spanish king and the court of the High Priest of the Christians, the same year Goroda had been assassinated. Nine years later they had returned but all their time away had been carefully controlled and monitored. They had left as naive, youthful Christian zealots and returned just as narrow-minded and almost as ill-informed as when they had left. Stupid waste, Toranaga thought, waste of an incredible opportunity which Goroda had refused to take advantage of, as much as he had advised it.

  “No, Tora-san, we need the Christians against the Buddhists,” Goroda had said. “Many Buddhist priests and monks are soldiers, neh? Most of them are. The Christians aren’t, neh? Let the Giant Priest have the three youths he wants—they’re only Kyushu stumble-heads, neh? I tell you to encourage Christians. Don’t bother me with a ten-year plan, but burn every Buddhist monastery within reach. Buddhists are like flies on carrion, and Christians nothing but a bag of fart.”

  Now they’re not, Toranaga thought with growing irritation. Now they’re hornets.

  “Yes,” he said aloud. “Very bad to break an oath and shout and disturb the harmony of an inn.”

  “Please excuse me, Sire, and forgive me for mentioning my problems. Thank you for listening. As always your concern makes me feel better. May I be permitted to greet the pilot?”

  Toranaga assented.

  “I must congratulate you, Pilot,” Alvito said in Portuguese. “Your swords suit you.”

  “Thank you, Father, I’m learning to use them,” Blackthorne replied. “But, sorry to say, I’m not very good with them yet. I’ll stick to pistols or cutlasses or cannon when I have to fight.”

  “I pray that you may never have to fight again, Pilot, and that your eyes will be opened to God’s infinite mercy.”

  “Mine are open. Yours are fogged.”

  “For your own soul’s sake, Pilot, keep your eyes open, and your mind open. Perhaps you may be mistaken. Even so, I must thank you for saving Lord Toranaga’s life.”

  “Who told you that?”

  Alvito did not reply. He turned back to Toranaga.

  “What was said?” Toranaga asked, breaking a silence.

  Alvito told him, adding, “Though he’s the enemy of my faith and a pirate, I’m gla
d he saved you, Sire. God moves in mysterious ways. You’ve honored him greatly by making him samurai.”

  “He’s hatamoto also.” Toranaga was pleasured by the priest’s fleeting amazement. “Did you bring a dictionary?”

  “Yes, Sire, with several of the maps you wanted, showing some of the Portuguese bases en route from Goa. The book’s in my luggage. May I send someone for it, or may I give it to him later myself?”

  “Give it to him later. Tonight, or tomorrow. Did you also bring the report?”

  “About the alleged guns that were supposed to be brought from Macao? The Father-Visitor is preparing it, Sire.”

  “And the numbers of Japanese mercenaries employed at each of your new bases?”

  “The Father-Visitor has requested an up-to-date report from all of them, Sire, which he will give you as soon as they’re complete.”

  “Good. Now tell me, how did you know about my rescue?”

  “Hardly a thing that happens to Toranaga-noh-Minowara is not the subject of rumor and legend. Coming from Mishima we heard that you were almost swallowed up in an earthquake, Sire, but that the ‘Golden Barbarian’ had pulled you out. Also, that you’d done the same for him and a lady—I presume the Lady Mariko?”

  Toranaga nodded briefly. “Yes. She’s here in Yokosé.” He thought a moment, then said, “Tomorrow she would like to be confessed, according to your customs. But only those things that are nonpolitical. I would imagine that excludes everything to do with me, and my various hatamoto, neh? I explained that to her also.”

  Alvito bowed his understanding. “With your permission, could I say Mass for all the Christians here, Sire? It would be very discreet, of course. Tomorrow?”

  “I’ll consider it.” Toranaga continued to talk about inconsequential matters for a while, then he said, “You have a message for me? From your Chief Priest?”