Shogun (107 page)

Blackthorne did not understand half the words. But he knew what Omi was saying. At least, he corrected himself uneasily, I know what he’s saying on the surface.

“Yes. True. Important,” he told him. “Please, one day you teaches—sorry, you teach perhaps? Please? I honored.”

“Yes—I’d like to teach you, Anjin-san.”

Blackthorne’s hackles rose at the implied threat in Omi’s voice. Watch it, he admonished himself. Don’t start imagining things. “Thank you. Now walk there, please? Little time. You go with? Yes?”

“Very well, Anjin-san. But we’ll ride. I’ll join you shortly.” Omi walked off up the hill, into his own courtyard.

Blackthorne ordered a servant to saddle his horse and mounted awkwardly from the right side, as was custom in Japan and China. Don’t think there’d be much future in letting him teach me swordsmanship, he told himself, his right hand nudging the concealed pistol safer, its pleasing warmth reassuring. This confidence vanished when Omi reappeared. With him were four mounted samurai.

Together they all cantered up the broken road toward the plateau. They passed many samurai companies in full marching gear, armed, under their officers, spear pennants fluttering. When they crested the rise, they saw that the entire Musket Regiment was drawn up outside the camp in route order, each man standing beside his armed horse, a baggage train in the rear, Yabu, Naga, and their officers in the van. The rain began to fall heavily.

“All troops go?” Blackthorne asked, perturbed, and reined in his horse.

“Yes.”

“Go Spa with Toranaga-sama, Omi-san?”

“I don’t know.”

Blackthorne’s sense of survival warned him to ask no more questions. But one needed to be answered. “And Buntaro-sama?” he asked indifferently. “He with us tomorrow, Omi-san?”

“No. He’s already gone. This morning he was in the square when you left the Tea House. Didn’t you see him, near the Tea House?”

Blackthorne could read nothing untoward in Omi’s face. “No. Not see, so sorry. He go Spa too?”

“I suppose so. I’m not sure.” The rain dripped off Omi’s conical hat, which was tied under his chin. His eyes were almost hidden. “Now, why did you want me to come here with you?”

“Show place, like I say.” Before Omi could say anything more, Blackthorne spurred his horse forward. With his most careful sea sense he took accurate bearings from memory and went quickly to the exact point over the crevasse. He dismounted and beckoned Omi. “Please.”

“What is it, eh?” Omi’s voice was edged.

“Please, here Omi-san. Alone.”

Omi waved his guards away and spurred forward until he towered over Blackthorne. “
Nan desu ka?”
he asked, his hand seemingly tightening on his sword.

“This place Toranaga-sama …” Blackthorne could not think of the words, so explained partially with his hands. “Understand?”

“Here you pulled him out of the earth,
neh?
So?”

Blackthorne looked at him, then deliberately down at his sword, then stared up at him again saying nothing more. He wiped the rain out of his face.

“
Nan desu ka?”
Omi repeated more irritably.

Still Blackthorne didn’t answer. Omi stared down at the crevasse and again at Blackthorne’s face. Then his eyes lit up. “
Ah, so desu! Wakarimasu!”
Omi thought a moment then called out to one of the guards, “Get Mura here at once. With twenty men and shovels!”

The samurai galloped off. Omi sent the others back to the village, then dismounted and stood beside Blackthorne. “Yes, Anjin-san,” he said, “that’s an excellent thought. A good idea.”

“Idea? What idea?” Blackthorne asked innocently. “Just show place—think you want know place,
neh?
So sorry—don’t understand.”

Omi said, “Toranaga-sama lost his swords here. Swords very valuable. He’ll be happy to get them back. Very happy,
neh?”

“
Ah so!
No my idea, Omi-san,” Blackthorne said. “Omi-san idea.”

“Of course. Thank you, Anjin-san. You’re a good friend and your mind’s fast. I should have thought of that myself. Yes, you’re a good friend and we’ll all need friends for the next few months. War’s with us now whether we want it or not.”

“Please? So sorry. I don’t understand, speak too fast. Please excuse.”

“Glad we’re friends—you and me. Understand?”

“
Hai
. You say war? War now?”

“Soon. What can we do? Nothing. Don’t worry, Toranaga-sama will conquer Ishido and his traitors. That’s the truth, understand? No worry,
neh?”

“Understand. I go now, my house. All right?”

“Yes. See you at dawn. Again thank you.”

Blackthorne nodded. But he did not leave. “She’s pretty,
neh?”

“What?”

“Kiku-san.” Blackthorne’s legs were slightly apart and he was poised to jump back and pull out the pistol, and aim it and fire it. He remembered with total clarity the unbelievable, effortless speed that Omi had used to decapitate the first villager so long ago, and he was ready as best he could be. He reasoned his only safety was to precipitate the matter of Kiku. Omi would never do it. Omi would consider such bad manners unthinkable. And, filled with shame at his own weakness, Omi would lock his very un-Japanese jealousy away into a secret compartment. Because it was so alien and shame-filled, this jealousy would fester until, when it was least expected, Omi would explode blindly and ferociously.

“Kiku-san?” Omi said.

“
Hai.”
Blackthorne could see that Omi was rocked. Even so he was glad he had chosen the time and the place. “She’s pretty,
neh?”

“Pretty?”

“
Hai.”

The rain increased. The heavy drops spattered the mud. Their horses shivered uncomfortably. Both men were soaked but the rain was warm and it ran off them.

“Yes,” Omi said. “Kiku-san is very pretty,” and followed it with a torrent of words Blackthorne did not fathom.

“No words enough now, Omi-san—not enough to speak clear now,” Blackthorne said. “Later yes. Not now. Understand?”

Omi seemed not to hear. Then he said, “There’s plenty of time, Anjin-san, plenty of time to talk about her, and about you and me and
karma
. But I agree, now is not the time,
neh?”

“Think understand. Yes. Yesterday not know Omi-san and Kiku-san good friends,” he said, pressing the attack.

“She’s not my property.”

“Now know you and her very friends. Now—”

“Now leave. This matter is closed. The woman is nothing. Nothing.”

Stubbornly Blackthorne stayed where he was. “Next time I—”

“This conversation is over! Didn’t you hear? Finished!”

“
Iyé! Iyé
, by God!”

Omi’s hand went for his sword. Blackthorne leaped back two paces without realizing it. But Omi did not draw his sword and Blackthorne did not pull out his pistol. Both men readied, though neither wanted to begin.

“What do you want to say, Anjin-san?”

“Next time, first I ask—about Kiku-san. If Omi-san say yes—yes. If no—no! Understand? Friend to friend,
neh?”

Omi relaxed his sword hand slightly. “I repeat—she’s not my property. Thank you for showing me this place, Anjin-san. Good-by.”

“Friend?”

“Of course.” Omi walked over to Blackthorne’s horse and held the bridle. Blackthorne swung into the saddle.

He looked down at Omi. If he could have got away with it he knew he would have blown the samurai’s head off right now. That would be his safest course. “Good-by, Omi-san, and thank you.”

“Good-by, Anjin-san.” Omi watched Blackthorne ride off and did not turn his back until he was over the rise. He marked the exact place in the crevasse with some stones and then, in turmoil, squatted on his haunches to wait, oblivious of the deluge.

Soon Mura and the peasants arrived, bespattered with mud.

“Toranaga-sama fell into the crevasse exactly at this point, Mura. His swords are buried here. Bring them to me before sunset.”

“Yes, Omi-sama.”

“If you’d had any brains, if you were interested in me, your liege Lord, you would have done it already.”

“Please excuse my stupidity.”

Omi rode off. They watched him briefly, then spread themselves out in a circle around the stones, and began to dig. Mura dropped his voice. “Uo, you’ll go with the baggage train.”

“Yes, Mura-san. But how?”

“I’ll offer you to the Anjin-san. He won’t know any different.”

“But his consort,
oh ko
, she will,” Uo whispered back.

“She’s not going with him. I hear her burns are bad. She’s to go by ship to Yedo later. You know what to do?”

“Seek out the Holy Father privately, answer any questions.”

“Yes.” Mura relaxed and began to talk normally. “You can go with the Anjin-san, Uo, he’ll pay well. Make yourself useful, but not too useful or he’ll take you all the way to Yedo.”

Uo laughed. “Hey, I hear Yedo’s so rich everyone pisses into silver pots—even
eta
. And the women have skins like sea foam with no pubics at all.”

“Is that true, Mura-san?” another villager asked. “They’ve no short hair?”

“Yedo was just a stinking little fishing village, nothing as good as Anjiro, when I was there the first time,” Mura told them, without stopping digging. “That was with Toranaga-sama when we were all hunting down the Beppu. We took more than three thousand heads between us. As to pubics, all the girls I’ve known had them, except one from Korea, but she said she’d had them plucked, one by one.”

“What some women will do to attract us, neh?” someone said.

“Yes. But I’d like to see that,” Ninjin said toothlessly. “Yes, I’d like to see a Jade Gate without a bush.”

“I’d gamble a boatload of fish against a bucket of shit that it hurt to pull out those hairs.” Uo whistled.

“When I’m a
kami
I’m going to inhabit Kiku-san’s Heavenly Pavilion! They say she was born perfumed and hairless!”

Amid laughter, Uo asked, “Did it make any difference, Mura-san, to attack the Jade Gate without the bush?”

“It was the nearest I ever got. Eeeeh! I got closer and deeper than ever before and that’s important,
neh?
So I know it’s always better for the girl to take off the bush though some are superstitious about it and some complain of the itch. It’s still closer for you and so closer for her—and getting close makes all the difference,
neh?”
They laughed and put their backs into the digging. The pit grew under the rain.

“I’ll wager the Anjin-san got plenty close last night for her to stand at the gateway like that! Eeee, what wouldn’t I give to have been him.” Uo wiped the sweat off his brow. Like all of them he wore only a loincloth and a bamboo, conical hat, and was barefoot.

“Eeee! I was there, Uo, in the square, and I saw it all. I saw her smile and I felt it down through my Fruit and into my toes.”

“Yes,” another said. “I have to admit just her smile made me stiff as an oar.”

“But not as big as the Anjin-san, eh, Mura-san?” Uo chuckled. “Go on, please tell us the story again.”

Happily Mura obliged and told about the first night and the bath house. His story had improved in the many tellings, but none of them minded.

“Oh, to be so vast!” Uo mimed carrying a giant erection before him, and laughed so much he slipped in the mud.

“Who’d have thought the barbarian stranger’d ever get from the pit to paradise?” Mura leaned on his shovel a moment, collecting his breath. “I’d never have believed it—like an ancient legend.
Karma, neh?”

“Perhaps he was one of us—in a previous life—and he’s come back with the same mind but a different skin.”

Ninjin nodded. “That’s possible. Must be—because from what the Holy Father said I thought he’d be burning in the Devil’s Hell Furnace long since. Didn’t the Father say he’d put a special curse on him? I heard him bring down the vengeance of the great Jesus
kami
himself on the Anjin-san and,
oh ko
, even I was very frightened.” He crossed himself and the others hardly noticed. “But the Jesus Christ Madonna God punishes His enemies very strangely if you ask me.”

Uo said, “Well, I’m not a Christian, as well you know, but, so sorry, it seems to me the Anjin-san’s a good man, please excuse me, and better than the Christian Father who stank and cursed and frightened everyone. And he’s been good to us,
neh?
He treats his people well—some say he’s Lord Toranaga’s friend, must be with all his honors,
neh? And
don’t forget Kiku-san honored him with her Golden Gully.”

“It’s golden all right. I heard the night cost him five koban!”

“Fifteen koku for one night?” Ninjin spluttered. “Eeeeeee, how lucky the Anjin-san is! His
karma’s
vast for an enemy of God the Father, Son, and Madonna.”

Mura said, “He paid one koban—three koku. But if you think that’s a lot …” He stopped and looked around conspiratorially to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, though of course in this rain he knew there would be none—and even if there were, what did that matter?

They all stopped and moved closer. “Yes, Mura-san?”

“I just had it whispered to me she’s going to be Lord Toranaga’s consort. He bought her contract this morning.
Three thousand koku.”

It was a mind-boggling figure, more than their whole village earned in fish and rice in twenty years. Their respect for her increased, if that were possible. And for the Anjin-san, who was therefore the last man on earth to enjoy her as a courtesan of the First Rank.

“Eeee!” Uo mumbled, hard put to talk. “So much money—I don’t know whether I want to vomit or piss or fart.”

“Do none,” said Mura laconically. “Dig. Let’s find the swords.”

They obeyed, each lost in his own thoughts. Inexorably, the pit was deepening.

Soon Ninjin, whipped by worry, could contain himself no longer, and he stopped digging. “Mura-san, please excuse me, but what have you decided about the new taxes?” he asked. The others stopped.

Mura kept on digging at his methodical, grinding pace. “What’s there to decide? Yabu-sama says pay, so we pay,
neh?”

“But Toranaga-sama cut our taxes to four parts out of ten and he’s our liege Lord now.”