Shōgun

by James Clavell

  Tomorrow Ishido and his allies will move against me. How much more time have I left? Where should the battle be? Odawara? Victory depends only on the time and the place, and not on the number of men. They’ll outnumber me three to one at the very least. Never mind, he thought, Ishido’s coming out of Osaka Castle! Mariko pried him out. In the chess game for power I sacrificed my queen but Ishido’s lost two castles.

  Yes. But you lost more than a queen in the last play. You lost a ship. A pawn can become a queen—but not a ship!

  They were riding downhill in a quick, bone-jarring trot. Below was the sea. They turned a corner on the path and there was Yokohama village, with the wreck just offshore. He could see the plateau where the Musket Regiment were drawn up in battle review with their horses and equipment, muskets in their holsters, other samurai, equally well armed, lining his route as an honor guard nearer the shore. On the outskirts of the village the villagers were kneeling in neat rows waiting to honor him. Beyond them was the galley, the sailors waiting with their captain. On either side of the wharf, fishing boats were beached in meticulous array and he made a mental note to reprimand Naga. He had ordered the regiment ready for instant departure, but to stop fishermen or peasants from fishing or working the fields was irresponsible.

  He turned in his saddle and called up a samurai, ordering him to tell Buntaro to go ahead and see that all was safe and prepared. “Then go to the village and dismiss all the villagers to their work, except the headman.”

  “Yes, Sire.” The man dug in his spurs and galloped away.

  Now Toranaga was near enough to the plateau to distinguish faces. The Anjin-san and Yabu, then Kiri and the Lady Sazuko. His excitement quickened.

  Buntaro was galloping down the track, his great bow and two full quivers on his back, half a dozen samurai close behind him. They swung off the track and came out onto the plateau. Instantly he saw Blackthorne and his face became even sterner. Then he reined in and looked around cautiously. A roofed reviewing stand bearing a single cushion was facing the regiment. Another, smaller and lower, was nearby. Kiri and the Lady Sazuko waited under it. Yabu, as the most senior officer, was at the head of the regiment, Naga on his right, the Anjin-san on his left. All seemed safe, and Buntaro waved the main party onward. The advance guard trotted up, dismounted, and spread protectively around the reviewing stand. Then Toranaga rode into the arena. Naga lifted the battle standard on high. At once the four thousand men shouted, “Toranagaaaaaaa!” and bowed.

  Toranaga did not acknowledge their salute. In absolute silence he took stock. He noticed that Buntaro was covertly watching the Anjin-san. Yabu was wearing the sword he had given him, but was very nervous. The Anjin-san’s bow was correct and motionless, the haft of his sword broken. Kiri and his youngest consort were kneeling, their hands flat on the tatamis, their faces demurely lowered. His eyes softened momentarily, then he gazed disapprovingly at the regiment. Every man was still bowing. He did not bow back, just nodded curtly and he felt the tremor that went through the samurai as they straightened up again. Good, he thought, dismounting nimbly, glad that they feared his vengeance. A samurai took his reins and led his horse away as he turned his back on the regiment and, sweat stained like all of them in the humidity, he walked over to his ladies. “So, Kiri-san, welcome home!”

  She bowed again joyously. “Thank you, Sire. I never thought I’d have the pleasure of seeing you ever again.”

  “Nor I, Lady.” Toranaga let a glimmer of his happiness show. He glanced at the young girl. “So, Sazuko-san? Where’s my son?”

  “With his wet nurse, Sire,” she replied breathlessly, basking in his open favor.

  “Please send someone to fetch our child at once.”

  “Oh please, Sire, with your permission, may I bring him to you myself?”

  “Yes, yes, if you wish.” Toranaga smiled and watched her go for a moment, liking her greatly. Again he looked at Kiri. “Is everything all right with you?” he asked for her ears alone.

  “Yes, Lord. Oh, yes—and seeing you so strong fills me with gladness.”

  “You’ve lost weight, Kiri-chan, and you’re younger than ever.”

  “Ah, so sorry, Sire, it’s not true. But thank you, thank you.”

  He grinned at her. “Whatever it is then, it suits you. Tragedy—loneliness—being forsaken…. I’m pleased to see you, Kiri-chan.”

  “Thank you, Sire. I’m so happy that her obedience and sacrifice unlocked Osaka. It would please her greatly, Sire, to know she was successful.”

  “First I have to deal with this rabble, then later we’ll talk. There’s lots to talk about, neh?”

  “Yes, oh yes!” Her eyes sparkled. “The Son of Heaven will be delayed, neh?”

  “That would be wise. Neh?”

  “I have a private message from Lady Ochiba.”

  “Ah? Good! But it will have to wait.” He paused. “The Lady Mariko, she died honorably? By choice and not by accident or mistake?”

  “Mariko-sama chose death. It was seppuku. If she hadn’t done what she did, they would have captured her. Oh, Sire, she was so marvelous all those evil days. So brave. And the Anjin-san. If it hadn’t been for him, she would have been captured and shamed. We would all have been captured and shamed.”

  “Ah yes, the ninja.” Toranaga exhaled, his eyes became jet and she shivered in spite of herself. “Ishido’s got much to answer for, Kiri-chan. Please excuse me.” He stalked over to the reviewing stand and sat, stern and menacing again. His guards surrounded him.

  “Omi-san!”

  “Yes, Sire?” Omi came forward and bowed, seeming older than before, leaner now.

  “Escort the Lady Kiritsubo to her quarters, and make sure mine are adequate. I’ll stay here tonight.”

  Omi saluted and walked off and Toranaga was glad to see that the sudden change of plan produced not even a flicker in Omi’s eyes. Good, he thought, Omi’s learning, or his spies have told him I’ve secretly ordered Sudara and Hiro-matsu here so I could not possibly leave until tomorrow.

  Now he turned his full attention on the regiment. At his signal Yabu came forward and saluted. He returned the salutation politely. “So, Yabu-san! Welcome back.”

  “Thank you, Sire. May I say how happy I am you avoided Ishido’s treachery.”

  “Thank you. And you too. Things did not go well at Osaka. Neh?”

  “No. My harmony is destroyed, Sire. I had hoped to lead the retreat from Osaka bringing you both your ladies safely, and your son, and also the Lady Toda, the Anjin-san, and seamen for his ship. Unfortunately, so sorry, we were both betrayed—there and here.”

  “Yes.” Toranaga looked at the wreck below that was washed by the sea. Anger flickered across his face and everyone readied for the outburst. But none came. “Karma,” he said. “Yes, karma, Yabu-san. What can one do against the elements? Nothing. Negligence is another thing. Now, about Osaka, I want to hear everything that happened, in detail—as soon as the regiment’s dismissed and I’ve bathed.”

  “I have a report for you in writing, Sire.”

  “Good. Thank you, but first I’d prefer you to tell it to me.”

  “Is it true the Exalted won’t go to Osaka?”

  “What the Exalted decides is up to the Exalted.”

  “Do you wish to review the regiment before I dismiss them?” Yabu asked formally.

  “Why should I give them that honor? Don’t you know they’re in disgrace, the elements notwithstanding?” he added thinly.

  “Yes, Sire. So sorry. Terrible.” Yabu was trying unsuccessfully to read Toranaga’s mind. “I was appalled when I heard what had happened. It seems almost impossible.”

  “I agree.” Toranaga’s face darkened and he looked at Naga and beyond him to the massed ranks. “I still fail to understand how there could be such incompetence. I needed that ship!”

  Naga was agitated. “Please excuse me, Sire, but do you wish me to make another inquiry?”

  “What can you do now that you haven’t alrea
dy done?”

  “I don’t know, Sire, nothing Sire, please excuse me.”

  “Your investigation was thorough, neh?”

  “Yes, Sire. Please forgive my stupidity.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t here. Or in command.” Impatiently Toranaga turned back to Yabu. “It’s curious, even sinister, that the shore patrol, the camp patrol, the deck patrol, and the commander were all Izu men on that night—except for the Anjin-san’s few ronin.”

  “Yes, Sire. Curious, but not sinister, so sorry. You were perfectly correct to hold the officers responsible, as Naga-san was to punish the others. So sorry, I made my own investigations as soon as I arrived but I’ve no more information, nothing to add. I agree it’s karma—karma helped somehow by manure-eating Christians. Even so, I apologize.”

  “Ah, you say it was sabotage?”

  “There’s no evidence, Sire, but a tidal wave and simple fire seem too easy an explanation. Certainly any fire should have been doused. Again I apologize.”

  “I accept your apologies but, meanwhile, please tell me how I replace that ship. I need that ship!”

  Yabu could feel acid in his stomach. “Yes, Sire. I know. So sorry, it cannot be replaced, but the Anjin-san told us during the voyage that soon other fighting ships from his country will come here.”

  “How soon?”

  “He doesn’t know, Sire.”

  “A year? Ten years? I’ve barely got ten days.”

  “So sorry, I wish I knew. Perhaps you should ask him, Sire.”

  Toranaga looked directly at Blackthorne for the first time. The tall man was standing alone, the light gone from his face. “Anjin-san!”

  “Yes, Sire?”

  “Bad, neh? Very bad.” Toranaga pointed at the wreck below. “Neh?”

  “Yes, very bad, Sire.”

  “How soon other ships come?”

  “My ships, Sire?”

  “Yes.”

  “When—when Buddha says.”

  “Tonight we talk. Go now. Thank you for Osaka. Yes. Go to galley—or village. Talk tonight. Understand?”

  “Yes. Talk tonight, yes, understand, Sire. Thank you. When tonight, please?”

  “I’ll send a messenger. Thank you for Osaka.”

  “My duty, neh? But I do little. Toda Mariko-sama give everything. Everything for Toranaga-sama.”

  “Yes.” Gravely Toranaga returned the bow. The Anjin-san began to leave, but stopped. Toranaga glanced at the far end of the plateau. Tsukku-san and his acolytes had just ridden in and were dismounting there. He had not granted the priest an interview at Mishima—though he had sent word to him at once about the ship’s destruction—and had deliberately kept him waiting, pending the outcome of Osaka and the safe arrival of the galley at Anjiro. Only then had he decided to bring the priest here with him to allow the confrontation to happen, at the right time.

  Blackthorne began to head for the priest.

  “No, Anjin-san. Later, not now. Now go village!” he ordered.

  “But, Sire! That man kill my ship! He’s the enemy!”

  “You will go there!” Toranaga pointed to the village below. “You will wait there please. Tonight we will talk.”

  “Sire, please, that man—”

  “No. You will go to the galley,” Toranaga said. “You will go now. Please.” This is better than breaking any falcon to the fist, he thought excitedly, momentarily distracted, putting his will to bear on Blackthorne. It’s better because the Anjin-san’s just as wild and dangerous and unpredictable, always an unknown quantity, unique, unlike any man I’ve ever known.

  From the corner of his eyes he noticed Buntaro had moved into the Anjin-san’s path, ready and anxious to force obedience. How foolish, Toranaga thought in passing, and so unnecessary. He kept his eyes on Blackthorne. And dominated him.

  “Yes. Go now, Lord Toranaga. So sorry. Go now,” Blackthorne said. He wiped the sweat off his face and started to go.

  “Thank you, Anjin-san,” Toranaga said. He did not allow his triumph to show. He watched Blackthorne obediently walk away—violent, strong, murderous, but controlled now by the will of Toranaga.

  Then he changed his mind. “Anjin-san!” he called out, deciding it was time to release the jesses and let the killer fly free. The final test. “Listen, go there if you wish. I think it better not to kill the Tsukku-san. But if you want to kill him—kill. Better not to kill.” He said it slowly and carefully, and repeated it. “Wakarimasu ka?”

  “Hai.”

  Toranaga looked into the incredibly blue eyes that were filled with an unthinking animosity and he wondered if this wild bird, cast at its prey, would kill or not kill at his whim alone and return to the fist without eating. “Wakarimasu ka?”

  “Hai.”

  Toranaga waved his hand in dismissal. Blackthorne turned and stalked off northward. Toward the Tsukku-san. Buntaro moved out of his way. Blackthorne did not seem to notice anyone except the priest. The day seemed to become more sultry.

  “So, Yabu-san. What’s be going to do?” Toranaga asked.

  “Kill. Of course he’ll kill if he can catch him. The priest deserves to die, neh? All Christian priests deserve to die, neh? All Christians. I’m sure they were behind the sabotage—the priests and Kiyama, though I can’t prove it.”

  “You’ll gamble your life he’ll kill Tsukku-san?”

  “No, Sire,” Yabu said hastily. “No. I wouldn’t. So sorry. He’s barbarian—they’re both barbarian.”

  “Naga-san?”

  “If it were me, I’d kill the priest and all of them, now that I had your permission. I’ve never known anyone openly to hate so much. The last two days the Anjin-san’s been like an insane man, walking up and down, muttering, staring at the wreck, sleeping there curled up on the sand, hardly eating….” Naga looked after Blackthorne again. “I agree it wasn’t just nature that destroyed the ship. I know the priests, somehow they were behind it—I can’t prove it either, but somehow … I don’t believe it happened because of the storm.”

  “Choose!”

  “He’ll explode. Look at his walk…. I think he’ll kill—I hope he’ll kill.”

  “Buntaro-san?”

  Buntaro turned back, his heavy jowls unshaven, his brawny legs planted, his fingers on his bow. “You advised him not to kill the Tsukku-san so you do not want the priest dead. If the Anjin-san kills or doesn’t kill matters nothing to me, Sire. I care only what matters to you. May I stop him if he begins to disobey you? I can do it easily from this range.”

  “Could you guarantee to wound him only?”

  “No, Sire.”

  Toranaga laughed softly and broke the spell. “The Anjin-san won’t kill him. He’ll shout and rave or hiss like a snake and rattle his sword and the Tsukku-san will be swollen up with ‘holy’ zeal, completely unafraid, and he’ll hiss back saying, ‘It was an Act of God. I never touched your ship!’ Then the Anjin-san will call him a liar and the Tsukku-san will be filled with more zeal and repeat the claim and swear to the truth in his God’s name and he’ll probably curse him back and they’ll hate each other for twenty lifetimes. No one will die. At least, not now.”

  “How do you know all that, Father?” Naga exclaimed.

  “I don’t know it for certain, my son. But that’s what I think will happen. It’s always important to take time to study men—important men. Friends and enemies. To understand them. I’ve watched both of them. They’re both very important to me. Neh, Yabu-san?”

  “Yes, Sire,” Yabu said, suddenly disquieted.

  Naga shot a quick glance after Blackthorne. The Anjin-san was still walking with the same unhurried stride, now seventy paces away from the Tsukku-san, who waited at the head of his acolytes, the breeze moving their orange robes.

  “But, Father, neither is a coward, neh? Why doesn’t—how can they back away now with honor?”

  “He won’t kill for three reasons. First, because the Tsukku-san’s unarmed and won’t fight back, even with his hands. I
t’s against their code to kill an unarmed man—that’s a dishonor, a sin against their Christian God. Second, because he’s Christian. Third, because I decided it was not the time.”

  Buntaro said, “Please excuse me, but I can understand the third, even the first, but isn’t the real reason for their hate that both believe the other man’s not Christian but evil—a Satan worshiper? Isn’t that what they call it?”

  “Yes, but this Jesus God of theirs taught or was supposed to have taught that you forgive your enemy. That’s being Christian.”

  “That’s stupid, neh?” Naga said. “To forgive your enemy is stupid.”

  “I agree.” Toranaga looked at Yabu. “It is foolish to forgive an enemy. Neh, Yabu-san?”

  “Yes,” Yabu agreed.

  Toranaga looked northward. The two figures were very close and now, privately, Toranaga was cursing his impetuousness. He still needed both men very much, and there had been no need to risk either of them. He had launched the Anjin-san for personal excitement, not to kill, and he regretted his stupidity. Now he waited, caught up as all of them. But it happened as he had forecast and the clash was short and sharp and spite-filled, even from this distance, and he fanned himself, greatly relieved. He would have dearly liked to have understood what had actually been said, to know if he had been correct. Soon they saw the Anjin-san stride away. Behind him, the Tsukku-san mopped his brow with a colored paper handkerchief.

  “Eeeee!” Naga uttered in admiration. “How can we lose with you in command?”

  “Too easily, my son, if that is my karma,” Then his mood changed. “Naga-san, order all samurai who came back with the galley from Osaka to my quarters.”

  Naga hurried away.

  “Yabu-san. I’m pleased to welcome you back safely. Dismiss the regiment—after the evening meal we’ll talk. May I send for you?”

  “Of course. Thank you, Sire.” Yabu saluted and went off.

  Now alone but for guards that he waved out of hearing, Toranaga studied Buntaro. Buntaro was unsettled, as a dog would be when stared at. When he could bear it no longer, he said, “Sire?”