James Clavell

by Asian Saga 03 - Shogun (v5)

  Why? To gain time.

  To accomplish what? To wait and weave a thousand more tricks, and it doesn’t matter what, only that Toranaga’s once more what he always was, the almighty puppeteer.

  How long before Ishido’s impatience shatters and he raises the battle standard and moves against us? One month—at the most two. No more. So by the ninth month of this Fifth Year of Keichō, the battle for the Kwanto begins!

  But what’s Toranaga gained in two months? I don’t know—I only know that now my son has a chance to inherit his ten thousand koku, and to live and breed, and that now perhaps my father’s line will not perish from the earth.

  She relished her newfound knowledge, toying with it, examining it, finding her logic flawless. But what to do between now and then? she asked herself. Nothing more than you’ve already done—and decided to do. Neh?

  “Mistress?”

  “Yes, Chimmoko?”

  “Gyoko-san is here. She has an appointment, she says.”

  “Ah yes. I forget to tell you. First heat saké, then bring it, and her, here.”

  Mariko reflected on the afternoon. She remembered his arms around her, so safe and warm and strong. ‘Can I see you tonight?’ he had asked very cautiously, after Yabu and Tsukku-san had left.

  ‘Yes,’ she had said impulsively. ‘Yes, my darling. Oh, how happy I am for thee. Tell Fujiko-san … ask her to send for me after the Hour of the Boar.’

  In the quiet of her house her throat tightened. So much foolishness and danger.

  She checked her makeup and coiffure in her mirror and tried to compose herself. Footsteps approached. The shoji slid open. “Ah, Lady,” Gyoko said, bowing deeply. “How kind of you to see me.”

  “You’re welcome, Gyoko-san.”

  They drank saké, Chimmoko pouring for them.

  “Such lovely pottery, Lady. So beautiful.”

  They made polite conversation, then Chimmoko was sent away.

  “So sorry, Gyoko-san, but our Master did not arrive this afternoon. I haven’t seen him, though I hope to before I leave.”

  “Yes, I heard Yabu-san went to the jetty in his place.”

  “When I see Toranaga-sama I will ask him once more. But I expect his answer will be the same.” Mariko poured saké for both of them. “So sorry, he will not grant my request.”

  “Yes, I believe you. Not unless there is great pressure.”

  “There’s no pressure that I can use. So sorry.”

  “So sorry too, Lady.”

  Mariko put down her cup. “Then you’ve decided that some tongues are not safe.”

  Gyoko said harshly, “If I were going to whisper secrets about you, would I tell you to your face? Do you think I’d be so naive?”

  “Perhaps you’d better go, so sorry, but I have so much to do.”

  “Yes, Lady, and so have I!” Gyoko replied, her voice rough. “Lord Toranaga asked me, to my face, what I knew about you and the Anjin-san. This afternoon. I told him there was nothing between you. I said, ‘Oh yes, Sire, I’ve heard the foul rumors too, but there’s no truth in them. I swear it on the head of my son, Sire, and his sons. If anyone would know, surely it would be me. You may believe it’s all a malicious lie—gossip, jealous gossip, Sire….’Oh yes, Lady, you may believe I was suitably shocked, my acting perfect, and he was convinced.” Gyoko quaffed the saké and added bitterly, “Now we are all ruined if he gets proof—which wouldn’t be difficult to get. Neh?”

  “How?”

  “Put the Anjin-san to the test—Chinese methods. Chimmoko—Chinese methods. Me—Kiku-san—Yoshinaka … so sorry, even you, Lady—Chinese methods.”

  Mariko took a deep breath. “May—may I ask you—why you took such a risk?”

  “Because in certain situations women must protect each other against men. Because I actually saw nothing. Because you’ve done me no harm. Because I like you and the Anjin-san and believe you both have your own karmas. And because I’d rather have you alive and a friend than dead, and it’s exciting to watch you three moths circling the flame of life.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Gyoko laughed softly. “Thank you, Lady.” Controlled now, she said with complete sincerity, “Very well, I’ll tell you the real reason. I need your help. Yes, Toranaga-sama won’t grant my request but perhaps you can think of a way. You’re the only chance I’ve ever had, that I’ll ever have in this lifetime, and I can’t release it lightly. There, now you know. Please, I humbly beg you to help me with my request.” She put both hands on the futons and bowed low. “Please excuse my impertinence, Lady Toda, but all that I have will be put at your side if you will help me.” Then she settled back on her heels, adjusted the folds of her kimono, and finished the saké.

  Mariko tried to think straight. Her intuition told her to trust the woman but her mind was still partially befogged with her newfound insight into Toranaga and her relief that Gyoko had not denounced her as she had expected, so she decided to put that decision aside for later consideration. “Yes, I will try. You must give me time, please.”

  “I can give you better than that. Here’s a fact: You know Amida Tong? The assassins?”

  “What about them?”

  “Remember the one in Osaka Castle, Lady? He went against the Anjin-san—not Toranaga-sama. Lord Kiyama’s chief steward gave two thousand koku for that attempt.”

  “Kiyama? But why?”

  “He’s Christian, neh? The Anjin-san was the enemy even then, neh? If then, what about now? Now that the Anjin-san’s samurai, and free, with his ship.”

  “Another Amida? Here?”

  Gyoko shrugged. “Who knows? But I wouldn’t give an eta’s loincloth for the Anjin-san’s life if he’s careless outside the castle.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “In his quarters, Lady. You’re going to visit him soon, neh? Perhaps it’d be as well to warn him.”

  “You seem to know everything that’s going on, Gyoko-san!”

  “I keep my ears open, Lady, and my eyes.”

  Mariko curbed her anxiety over Blackthorne. “Did you tell Toranaga-sama?”

  “Oh yes, I told him that.” The corners of Gyoko’s eyes crinkled and she sipped her saké. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think he was surprised. That’s interesting, don’t you think?”

  “Perhaps you were mistaken.”

  “Perhaps. In Mishima I heard a rumor that there was a poison plot against Lord Kiyama. Terrible, neh?”

  “What plot?”

  Gyoko told her the details.

  “Impossible! One Christian daimyo would never do that to another!”

  Mariko filled the cups.

  “May I ask what else was said, by you and by him?”

  “Part of it, Lady, was my plea to get back into his favor and out of that flea-sack inn, and to that he agreed. Now we’re to have proper quarters within the castle, near the Anjin-san, in one of the guest houses and I may come and go as I wish. He asked Kiku-san to entertain him tonight and that’s another improvement, though nothing will get him out of his melancholia. Neh?” Gyoko was watching Mariko speculatively. Mariko kept her face guileless, and merely nodded. The other woman sighed and continued, “Yes, he’s very sad. Pity. Part of the time was spent on the three secrets. He asked me to repeat what I knew, what I’d told you.”

  Ah, Mariko thought, as another clue fell neatly into its slot. Ochiba? So that was Zataki’s bait. And Toranaga’s also got a cudgel over Omi’s head if needed, and a weapon to use against Onoshi with Harima, or even Kiyama.

  “You smile, Lady?”

  Oh yes, Mariko wanted to say, wanting to share her elation with Gyoko. How valuable your information must have been to our Master, she wanted to tell Gyoko. How he should reward you! You should be made a daimyo yourself! And how fantastic Toranaga-sama is to have listened, apparently so unconcernedly. How marvelous he is!

  But Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro only shook her head and said calmly, “I’m sorry your information didn’t cheer him u
p.”

  “Nothing I said improved his humor, which was dull and defeated. Sad, neh?”

  “Yes, so sorry.”

  “Yes.” Gyoko sniffed. “Another piece of information before I go, to interest you, Lady, to cement our friendship. It’s very possible the Anjin-san is very fertile.”

  “What?”

  “Kiku-san’s with child.”

  “The Anjin-san?”

  “Yes. Or Lord Toranaga. Possibly Omi-san. All were within the correct time span. Of course she took precautions after Omi-san as usual, but as you know, no method is perfect, nothing is ever guaranteed, mistakes happen, neh? She believes she forgot after the Anjin-san but she’s not sure. That was the day the courier arrived at Anjiro, and in the excitement of leaving for Yokosé and of Lord Toranaga’s buying her contract—it’s understandable, neh?” Gyoko lifted her hands, greatly perturbed. “After Lord Toranaga, at my suggestion, she did the reverse. Also we both lit incense sticks and prayed for a boy.”

  Mariko studied the pattern on her fan. “Who? Who do you think?”

  “That’s the trouble, Lady. I don’t know. I’d be grateful for your advice.”

  “This beginning must be stopped. Of course. There’s no risk to her.”

  “I agree. Unfortunately, Kiku-san does not agree.”

  “What? I’m astonished, Gyoko-san! Of course she must. Or Lord Toranaga must be told. After all, it happened before he—”

  “Perhaps it happened before him, Lady.”

  “Lord Toranaga will have to be told. Why is Kiku-san so disobedient and foolish?”

  “Karma, Lady. She wants a child.”

  “Whose child?”

  “She won’t say. All she said was that any one of the three had advantages.”

  “She’d be wise to let this one go and be sure next time.”

  “I agree. I thought you should know in case…. There are many, many days before anything shows or before a miscarriage would be a danger to her. Perhaps she will change her mind. In this I cannot force her. She’s no longer my property, though for the time being I’m trying to look after her. It would be splendid if the child was Lord Toranaga’s. But say it had blue eyes…. A last piece of advice, Lady: Tell the Anjin-san to trust this Uraga-noh-Tadamasa only so far, and never in Nagasaki. Never there. That man’s final allegiance will always be to his uncle, Lord Harima.”

  “How do you find out these things, Gyoko-san?”

  “Men need to whisper secrets, Lady. That’s what makes them different from us—they need to share secrets, but we women only reveal them to gain an advantage. With a little silver and a ready ear—and I have both—it’s all so easy. Yes. Men need to share secrets. That’s why we’re superior to them and they’ll always be in our power.”

  CHAPTER 51

  In the darkness just before dawn, the portcullis of a side gate lifted noiselessly and ten men hurried out across the narrow drawbridge of the innermost moat. The iron grille closed after them. At the far side of the bridge the alert sentries deliberately turned their backs and allowed the men to pass unchallenged. All wore dark kimonos and conical hats and held their swords tightly: Naga, Yabu, Blackthorne, Uraga-noh-Tadamasa, and six samurai. Naga led, Yabu beside him, and he took them unerringly through a maze of side turnings, up and down staircases and along little-used passages. Whenever they met patrols or sentries—ever alert—Naga held up a silver cipher and the party was allowed to pass unhindered and unquestioned.

  By devious byways he brought them to the main south gate, which was the sole way across the castle’s first great moat. Here a company of samurai awaited them. Silently these men surrounded Naga’s party, screening them, and they all hurried across the bridge. Still they were not challenged. They continued on, down the slight rise toward First Bridge, keeping as close as they could to the shadows of the flares that abounded near the castle. Once across First Bridge they turned south and vanished into the labyrinth of alleys, heading for the sea.

  Just outside the cordon surrounding the Erasmus wharf the accompanying samurai stopped and motioned the ten forward, then saluted and turned about and melted into the darkness again.

  Naga led the way through the barriers. They were admitted onto the jetty without comment. There were more flares and guards here than before.

  “Everything’s ready?” Yabu asked, taking charge now.

  “Yes, Sire,” the senior samurai replied.

  “Good. Anjin-san, did you understand?”

  “Yes, thank you, Yabu-san.”

  “Good. You’d better hurry.”

  Blackthorne saw his own samurai drawn up in a loose square to one side, and he waved Uraga across to them as had been prearranged. His eyes raced over his ship, checking and rechecking as he hurried aboard and jubilantly stood on his quarterdeck. The sky was still dark with no sign of dawn yet. All signs indicated a fair day with calm seas.

  He looked back at the wharf. Yabu and Naga were deep in conversation. Uraga was explaining to his vassals what was going on. Then the barriers were opening again and Baccus van Nekk and the rest of the crew, all obviously apprehensive, stumbled into the clearing, surrounded by caustic guards.

  Blackthorne went to the gunwale and called out, “Hey! Come aboard!”

  When his men saw him they seemed less fearful, and began to hurry, but their guards cursed them and they stopped in their tracks.

  “Uraga-san!” Blackthorne shouted. “Tell them to let my men aboard. At once.” Uraga obeyed with alacrity. The samurai listened and bowed toward the ship and released the crew.

  Vinck was first aboard, Baccus groping his way last. The men were still frightened, but none came up onto the quarterdeck which was Blackthorne’s domain alone.

  “Great Jesus, Pilot,” Baccus panted, above the hubbub of questions. “What’s going on?”

  “What’s amiss, Pilot?” Vinck echoed with the others. “Christ, one moment we was asleep, then all hell broke loose, the door burst open an’ the monkeys were marching us here….”

  Blackthorne held up his hand. “Listen!” When there was silence he began quietly, “We’re taking Erasmus to a safe harbor across the—”

  “We’ve not men enough, Pilot,” Vinck broke in anxiously. “We’ll nev—”

  “Listen, Johann! We’re going to be towed. The other ship’ll be here any moment. Ginsel, go for’ard—you’ll swing the lead. Vinck, take the helm, Jan Roper and Baccus stand by the forewinch, Salamon and Croocq aft. Sonk—go below and check our stores. Break out some grog if you can find any. Lay to!”

  “Wait a minute, Pilot!” Jan Roper said. “What’s all the hurry? Where’re we going and why?”

  Blackthorne felt a surge of indignation at being questioned, but he reminded himself that they were entitled to know, they were not vassals and not eta but his crew, his shipmates, and, in some respects, almost partners. “This is the beginning of the storm season. Tai-funs they call them—Great Storms. This berth isn’t safe. Across the harbor, a few leagues south, is their best and safest anchorage. It’s near a village called Yokohama. Erasmus will be safe there and can ride out any storm. Now lay to!”

  No one moved.

  Van Nekk said, “Only a few leagues, Pilot?”

  “Yes.”

  “What then? And, well, what’s the hurry?”

  “Lord Toranaga agreed to let me do it now,” Blackthorne answered, telling half the truth. “The sooner the better, I thought. He might change his mind again, neh? At Yokohama …” He looked away as Yabu came stomping aboard with his six guards. The men fled out of his way.

  “Jesus,” Vinck choked out. “It’s him! It’s the bastard who gave Pieterzoon his!”

  Yabu came up near to the quarterdeck, smiling broadly, oblivious of the terror that infected the crew as they recognized him. He pointed out to sea. “Anjin-san, look! There! Everything’s perfect, neh?”

  A galley like some monstrous sea caterpillar was sweeping silently toward them from the western darkness.

 
“Good, Yabu-sama! You want stand here?”

  “Later, Anjin-san.” Yabu walked off to the head of the gangway.

  Blackthorne turned back to his men. “Lay for’ard. On the double—and watch your tongues. Speak only gutter Dutch—there’s one aboard who understands Portuguese! I’ll talk to you when we’re under way! Move!”

  The men scattered, glad to get away from Yabu’s presence. Uraga and twenty of Blackthorne’s samurai loped aboard. The others were forming up on the jetty to board the galley.

  Uraga said, “These your personal guards, if it pleases you, senhor.”

  “My name’s Anjin-san, not senhor,” Blackthorne said.

  “Please excuse me, Anjin-san.” Uraga began to come up the steps.

  “Stop! Stay below! No one ever comes onto the quarterdeck without my permission! Tell them.”

  “Yes, Anjin-san. Please excuse me.”

  Blackthorne went to the side to watch the galley docking, just to the west of them. “Ginsel! Go ashore and watch ’em take our hawsers! See they’re secured properly. Look lively now!”

  Then, his ship in control, Blackthorne scrutinized the twenty men. “Why are they all chosen from the bound group, Uraga-san?”

  “They’re a clan, sen—Anjin-san. Like brothers, Sire. They beg for the honors of defending you.”

  “Anatawa—anatawa—anatawa—” Blackthorne pointed out ten men at random and ordered them ashore, to be replaced from his other vassals, also to be selected by Uraga at random. And he told Uraga to make it clear all his vassals were to be like brothers or they could commit seppuku now.

  “Wakarimasu?”

  “Hai, Anjin-san. Gomen nasai.”

  Soon the bow hawsers were secured aboard the other craft. Blackthorne inspected everything, checked the wind again using all his sea sense, knowing that even within the benign waters of the vast Yedo harbor, their journey could be dangerous if a sudden squall began.

  “Cast off!” he shouted. “Ima, Captain-san!”

  The other captain waved and let his galley ease away from the jetty. Naga was aboard the craft, which was packed with samurai and the rest of Blackthorne’s vassals. Yabu stood beside Blackthorne on the quarterdeck of Erasmus. She heeled slightly and a tremor went through her as she was taken by the weight of a current. Blackthorne and all the crew were filled with jubilation, their excitement at being once more at sea overriding their anxieties. Ginsel was leaning over the side of the tiny, roped starboard platform, swinging the lead, calling out the fathoms. The jetty began to fall away.