Shōgun

by James Clavell

  “Ah yes, the word book!” Ochiba made Blackthorne show it to her and, with Mariko’s help, explain it elaborately. She was fascinated. So was Ishido. “We must get copies, Lord General. Please order them to give us a hundred of the books. With these, our young men could soon learn barbarian, neh?”

  “Yes. It’s a good idea, Lady. The sooner we have our own interpreters, the better.” Ishido laughed. “Let Christians break their own monopoly, neh?”

  An iron-gray samurai in his sixties who stood in the front of the guests said, “Christians own no monopoly, Lord General. We ask the Christian Fathers—in fact we insist that they be interpreters and negotiators because they’re the only ones who can talk to both sides and are trusted by both sides. Lord Goroda began the custom, neh? And then the Taikō continued it.”

  “Of course, Lord Kiyama, I meant no disrespect to daimyos or samurai who have become Christian. I referred only to the monopoly of the Christian priests,” Ishido said. “It would be better for us if our people and not foreign priests—any priests for that matter—controlled our trade with China.”

  Kiyama said, “There’s never been a case of fraud, Lord General. Prices are fair, the trade is easy and efficient, and the Fathers control their own people. Without the Southern Barbarians there’s no silk, no China trade. Without the Fathers we could have much trouble. Very much trouble, so sorry. Please excuse me for mentioning it.”

  “Ah, Lord Kiyama,” the Lady Ochiba said, “I’m sure Lord Ishido is honored that you correct him, isn’t that so, Lord General? What would the Council be without Lord Kiyama’s advice?”

  “Of course,” Ishido said.

  Kiyama bowed stiffly, not unpleased. Ochiba glanced at the youth and fluttered her fan. “How about you, Saruji-san? Perhaps you would like to learn barbarian?”

  The boy blushed under their scrutiny. He was slim and handsome and tried hard to be more manly than his almost fifteen years. “Oh, I hope I wouldn’t have to do that, Ochiba-sama, oh no—but if it is ordered I will try. Yes, I’d try very hard.”

  They laughed at his ingenuousness. Mariko said proudly in Japanese, “Anjin-san, this is my son, Saruji.” Blackthorne had been concentrating on their conversation, most of which was too fast and too vernacular for him to comprehend. But he had heard “Kiyama,” and an alarm went off. He bowed to Saruji and the bow was formally returned. “He’s a very fine man, neh? Lucky have such a fine son, Mariko-sama.” His veiled eyes were looking at the youth’s right hand. It was permanently twisted. Then he remembered that once Mariko had told him her son’s birth had been prolonged and difficult. Poor lad, he thought. How can he use a sword? He took his eyes away. No one had noticed the direction of his glance except Saruji. He saw embarrassment and pain in the youth’s face.

  “Lucky have fine son,” he said to Mariko. “But surely impossible, Mariko-sama, you have such big son—not enough years, neh?”

  Ochiba said, “Are you always so gallant, Anjin-san? Do you always say such clever things?”

  “Please?”

  “Ah, always so clever? Compliments? Do you understand?”

  “No, so sorry, please excuse me.” Blackthorne’s head was aching from concentration. Even so, when Mariko told him what had been said he replied with mock gravity, “Ah, so sorry, Mariko-sama. If Saruji-san is truly your son, please tell the Lady Ochiba I did not know that ladies here were married at ten.”

  She translated. Then added something that made them laugh.

  “What did you say?”

  “Ah!” Mariko noticed Kiyama’s baleful eyes on Blackthorne. “Please excuse me, Lord Kiyama, may I introduce the Anjin-san to you?”

  Kiyama acknowledged Blackthorne’s very correct bow politely. “They say you claim to be a Christian?”

  “Please?”

  Kiyama did not deign to repeat it so Mariko translated.

  “Ah, so sorry, Lord Kiyama,” Blackthorne said in Japanese. “Yes. I’m Christian—but different sect.”

  “Your sect is not welcome in my lands. Nor in Nagasaki—or Kyushu, I’d imagine—or in any lands of any Christian daintyos.”

  Mariko kept her smile in place. She was wondering if Kiyama had personally ordered the Amida assassin, and also the attack last night. She translated, taking the edge off Kiyama’s discourtesy, everyone in the room listening intently.

  “I’m not a priest, Lord,” Blackthorne said, direct to Kiyama. “If I in your land—only trade. No priest talk or teach. Respectfully ask trade only.”

  “I do not want your trade. I do not want you in my lands. You are forbidden my lands on pain of death. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand,” Blackthorne said. “So sorry.”

  “Good.” Kiyama haughtily turned to Ishido. “We should exclude this sect and these barbarians completely from the Empire. I will propose this at the Council’s next meeting. I must say openly that I think Lord Toranaga was ill-advised to make any foreigner, particularly this man samurai. It’s a very dangerous precedent.”

  “Surely that’s unimportant! All the mistakes of the present Lord of the Kwanto will be corrected very soon. Neh?”

  “Everyone makes mistakes, Lord General,” Kiyama said pointedly. “Only God is all-seeing and perfect. The only real mistake Lord Toranaga has ever made is to put his own interests before those of the Heir.”

  “Yes,” Ishido said.

  “Please excuse me,” Mariko said. “But that’s not true. I’m sorry, but you’re both mistaken about my Master.”

  Kiyama turned on her. Politely. “It’s perfectly correct for you to take that position, Mariko-san. But, please let’s not discuss that tonight. So, Lord General, where is Lord Toranaga now? What’s your latest news?”

  “By yesterday’s carrier pigeon, I heard he was at Mishima. Now I’m getting daily reports on his progress.”

  “Good. Then in two days he’ll leave his own borders?” Kiyama asked.

  “Yes. Lord Ikawa Jikkyu is ready to welcome him as his position merits.”

  “Good.” Kiyama smiled at Ochiba. He was very fond of her. “On that day, Lady, in honor of the occasion, perhaps you would ask the Heir if he would allow the Regents to bow before him?”

  “The Heir would be honored, Sire,” she replied, to applause. “And afterwards perhaps, you and everyone here would be his guests at a poetry competition. Perhaps the Regents would be the judges?”

  There was more applause.

  “Thank you, but please, perhaps you and Prince Ogaki and some of the ladies would be the judges.”

  “Very well, if you wish.”

  “Now, Lady, what’s the theme to be? And the first line of the poem?” Kiyama asked, very pleased, for he was renowned for his poetry as well as his swordsmanship and ferocity in war.

  “Please, Mariko-san, would you answer Lord Kiyama?” Ochiba said, and again many there admired her adroitness—she was an indifferent poetess where Mariko was renowned.

  Mariko was glad the time had come to begin. She thought a moment. Then she said, “It should be about today, Lady Ochiba, and the first line: ‘On a leafless branch…’”

  Ochiba and all of them complimented her on her choice. Kiyama was genial now, and said, “Excellent, but we’ll have to be very good to compete with you, Mariko-san.”

  “I hope you will excuse me, Sire, but I won’t be competing.”

  “Of course you’ll compete!” Kiyama laughed. “You’re one of the best in the realm! It wouldn’t be the same if you didn’t.”

  “So sorry, Sire, please excuse me, but I will not be here.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Ochiba said, “What do you mean, Mariko-chan?”

  “Oh, please excuse me, Lady,” Mariko said, “but I’m leaving Osaka tomorrow—with the Lady Kiritsubo and the Lady Sazuko.”

  Ishido’s smile vanished. “Leaving for where?”

  “To meet our liege Lord, Sire.”

  “He—Lord Toranaga will be here in a few days, neh?”

>   “It’s months since the Lady Sazuko has seen her husband, and my Lord Toranaga hasn’t yet had the pleasure of seeing his newest son. Naturally the Lady Kiritsubo will accompany us. It’s been equally long since he’s seen the Mistress of his Ladies, neh?”

  “Lord Toranaga will be here so soon that to go to meet him isn’t necessary.”

  “But I think it is necessary, Lord General.”

  Ishido said crisply, “You’ve only just arrived and we’ve been looking forward to your company, Mariko-san. The Lady Ochiba particularly. I agree again with Lord Kiyama, of course you must compete.”

  “So sorry, but I will not be here.”

  “Obviously you’re tired, Lady. You’ve just arrived. Certainly this is hardly the time to discuss such a private matter.” Ishido turned to Ochiba. “Perhaps, Lady Ochiba, you should greet the remainder of the guests?”

  “Yes—yes, of course,” Ochiba said, flustered. At once the line began to form up obediently and nervous conversation began, but the silence fell again as Mariko said, “Thank you. Lord General. I agree, but this isn’t a private matter and there’s nothing to discuss. I am leaving tomorrow to pay my respects to my liege Lord, with his ladies.”

  Ishido said coldly, “You are here, Lady, at the personal invitation of the Son of Heaven, together with the welcome of the Regents. Please be patient. Your lord will be here very soon now.”

  “I agree, Sire. But His Imperial Majesty’s invitation is for the twenty-second day. It does not order me—or anyone—confined to Osaka until that time. Or does it?”

  “You forget your manners, Lady Toda.”

  “Please excuse me, that was the last thing I intended. So sorry, I apologize.” Mariko turned to Ogaki, the courtier. “Lord, does the Exalted’s invitation require me to stay here until He arrives?”

  Ogaki’s smile was set. “The invitation is for the twenty-second day of this month, Lady. It requires your presence then.”

  “Thank you, Sire.” Mariko bowed and faced the platform again. “It requires my presence then, Lord General. Not before. So I shall leave tomorrow.”

  “Please be patient, Lady. The Regents have welcomed you and there are many preparations on which they’ll need your assistance, against the Exalted’s arrival. Now, Lady Ochi—”

  “So sorry, Sire, but the orders of my liege Lord take precedence. I must leave tomorrow.”

  “You will not leave tomorrow and you are asked, no, begged, Mariko-san, to take part in the Lady Ochiba’s competition. Now, Lady—”

  “Then I am confined here—against my will?”

  Ochiba said, “Mariko-san, let’s leave the matter now, please?”

  “So sorry, Ochiba-sama, but I am a simple person. I’ve said openly I have orders from my liege Lord. If I cannot obey them I must know why. Lord General, am I confined here until the twenty-second day? If so, by whose orders?”

  “You are an honored guest,” Ishido told her carefully, willing her to submit. “I repeat, Lady, your lord will be here soon enough.”

  Mariko felt his power and she fought to resist it. “Yes, but so sorry, again I respectfully ask: Am I confined to Osaka for the next eighteen days and if so, on whose orders?”

  Ishido kept his eyes riveted on her. “No, you are not confined.”

  “Thank you, Sire. Please excuse me for speaking so directly,” Mariko said. Many of the ladies in the room turned to their neighbors, and some whispered openly what all those held against their will in Osaka were thinking: ‘If she can go, so can I, neh? So can you, neh? I’m going tomorrow—oh, how wonderful!’

  Ishido’s voice cut through the undercurrent of whispering. “But, Lady Toda, since you’ve chosen to speak in this presumptuous fashion, I feel it is my duty to ask the Regents for a formal rejection—in case others might share your misunderstanding.” He smiled mirthlessly in the frozen hush. “Until that time you will hold yourself in readiness to answer their questions and receive the ruling.”

  Mariko said, “I would be honored, Sire, but my duty is to my liege Lord.”

  “Of course. But this will only be for a few days.”

  “So sorry, Sire, but my duty is to my liege Lord for the next few days.”

  “You will possess yourself with patience, Lady. It will take but a little time. This matter is ended. Now, Lord Ki—”

  “So sorry, but I cannot delay my departure for a little time.”

  Ishido bellowed, “You refuse to obey the Council of Regents?”

  “No, Sire,” Mariko said proudly. “Not unless they trespass on my duty to my liege Lord, which is a samurai’s paramount duty!”

  “You-will-hold-yourself-ready-to-meet-the-Regents-with-filial-patience!”

  “So sorry, I am ordered by my liege Lord to escort his ladies to meet him. At once.” She took a scroll out of her sleeve and handed it to Ishido formally.

  He tore it open and scanned it. Then he looked up and said, “Even so, you will wait for a ruling from the Regents.”

  Mariko looked hopefully to Ochiba but there was only bleak disapproval there. She turned to Kiyama. Kiyama was equally silent, equally unmoved.

  “Please excuse me, Lord General, but there’s no war,” she began. “My Master’s obeying the Regents, so for the next eighteen—”

  “This matter is closed!”

  “This matter is closed, Lord General, when you have the manners to let me finish! I’m no peasant to be trodden on. I’m Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro-noh-Hiro-matsu, daughter of the Lord Akechi Jinsai, my line’s Takashima and we’ve been samurai for a thousand years and I say I will never be captive or hostage or confined. For the next eighteen days and until the day, by fiat of the Exalted, I am free to go as I please—as is anyone.”

  “Our—our Master, the Taikō, was once a peasant. Many—many samurai are peasants, were peasants. Every daimyo was, once, in the past, peasant. Even the first Takashima. Everyone was peasant once. Listen carefully: You-will-await the-pleasure-of-the-Regents.”

  “No. So sorry, my first duty is obedience to my liege Lord.”

  Enraged, Ishido began to walk toward her.

  Although Blackthorne had understood almost nothing of what had been said, his right hand slid unnoticed into his left sleeve to prepare the concealed throwing knife.

  Ishido stood over her. “You-will—”

  At that moment there was a movement at the doorway. A tear-stained maid weaved through the throng and ran up to Ochiba. “Please excuse me, Mistress,” she whimpered, “but it’s Yodoko-sama—she’s asking for you, she’s…. You must hurry, the Heir’s already there….”

  Worriedly Ochiba looked back at Mariko and at Ishido, then at the faces staring up at her. She half bowed to her guests and hurried away. Ishido hesitated. “I’ll deal with you later, Mariko-san,” he said, then followed Ochiba, his footsteps heavy on the tatamis.

  In his wake the whispering began to ebb and flow again. Bells tolled the hour change.

  Blackthorne walked over to Mariko. “Mariko-san,” he asked, “what’s happening?”

  She continued to stare sightlessly at the platform. Kiyama took his cramped hand off his sword hilt and flexed it. “Mariko-san!”

  “Yes? Yes, Sire?”

  “May I suggest you go back to your house. Perhaps I may be permitted to talk to you later—say, at the Hour of the Boar?”

  “Yes, yes, of course. Please—please excuse me but I had to….” Her words trailed away.

  “This is an ill-omened day, Mariko-san. May God take you into His keeping.” Kiyama turned his back on her and spoke to the room with authority. “I suggest we return to our homes to wait … to wait and to pray that the Infinite may take the Lady Yodoko quickly and easily and with honor into His peace, if her time has come.” He glanced at Saruji, who was still transfixed. “You come with me.” He walked out. Saruji began to follow, not wanting to leave his mother, but impelled by the order and intimidated by the attention on him.

  Mariko made a half bow to the room and started
to leave. Kiri licked her dry lips. Lady Sazuko was beside her, tremulously apprehensive. Kiri took the Lady Sazuko’s hand and together the two women followed Mariko. Yabu stepped forward with Blackthorne and they strode out behind them, very conscious that they were the only samurai present wearing Toranaga’s uniform.

  Outside, Grays awaited them.

  * * *

  “But what in the name of all gods possessed you to take such a stand? Stupid, neh?” Yabu stormed at her.

  “So sorry,” Mariko said, hiding the true reason, wishing Yabu would leave her in peace, furious at his foul manners. “It just happened, Sire. One moment it was a birthday celebration and then … I don’t know. Please excuse me, Yabu-sama. Please excuse me, Anjin-san.”

  Again Blackthorne began to say something but once more Yabu overrode him and he leaned back against the window post, completely aggravated, his head throbbing from the effort of trying to understand.

  “So sorry, Yabu-sama,” Mariko said, and thought, how tiresome men are, they need everything explained in such detail. They can’t even see the hairs on their own eyelids.

  “You’ve started a storm that’ll swallow us all! Stupid, neh?”

  “Yes, but it’s not right we should be locked up and Lord Toranaga did give me orders that—”

  “Those orders are mad! Devils must have taken possession of his head! You’ll have to apologize and back down. Now security’s going to be tighter than a gnat’s arsehole. Ishido will certainly cancel our permits to leave and you’ve ruined everything.” He looked across at Blackthorne. “Now what do we do?”

  “Please?”

  The three of them had just arrived in the main reception room of Mariko’s house that was within the outermost ring of fortifications. Grays had escorted them there and many more than usual were now stationed outside her gate. Kiri and the Lady Sazuko had gone to their own quarters with another “honor” guard of Grays, and Mariko had promised to join them after her meeting with Kiyama.