Shogun (111 page)

“Second.” Gyoko collected her wits. “Second and last, Sire, you could put your chop on the Willow World forever. Consider some of our Ladies: Kiku-san, for instance, has studied singing and dancing and the samisen since she was six. Every waking moment she was working very hard to perfect her art. Admittedly she’s rightfully become a Lady of the First Class, as her unique artistry merits. But she’s still a courtesan and some clients expect to enjoy her on the pillow as well as through her art. I believe two classes of Ladies should be created. First, courtesans, as always—amusing, happy, physical. Second, a new class, perhaps
gei-sha
could describe them: Art Persons—persons dedicated solely to art.
Gei-shas
would not be expected to go to the pillow as part of their duty. They would solely be entertainers, dancers, singers, musicians—specialists—and so give themselves exclusively to this profession. Let
gei-shas
entertain the minds and spirits of men with their beauty and grace and their artistry. Let courtesans satisfy the body with beauty, grace, and equal artistry.”

Again he was struck by the simplicity and the far-reaching possibilities of her idea. “How would you select a
gei-sha?”

“By her aptitude. At puberty her owner would decide the way of her future. And the guild could approve, or reject, the apprentice,
neh?”

“It is an extraordinary idea, Gyoko-san.”

The woman bowed and shivered. “Please excuse my long-windedness, Sire, but this way, when beauty fades and the body thickens, still the girl can have a rare future and a real value. She won’t have to go down the road that all courtesans today must travel. I plead for the artists among them, my Kiku-san for one. I petition you to grant the favored few a future and the position they merit in the land. To learn to sing and to dance and to play requires practice and practice
over the years. The pillow needs youth and there is no aphrodisiac like youth.
Neh?”

“No.” Toranaga watched her. “
Gei-shas
may not pillow?”

“That would not be part of a
gei-sha’s
duty, whatever the money offered.
Gei-shas
would never be
obliged
to pillow, Sire. If a
gei-sha
wished to pillow with a particular man, it would be her private concern—or perhaps it should be arranged with the permission of her mistress, the price to be only as high as that man can afford. A courtesan’s duty would be to pillow with artistry—
gei-shas
and the apprentice
gei-shas
would be untouchable. Please excuse me for talking so long.” Gyoko bowed and Kiku bowed. The barest fraction of incense remained.

Toranaga questioned them for twice the allotted time, pleased with the opportunity to learn about their world, probing their ideas and hopes and fears. What he learned excited him. He docketed the information for future use, then he sent Kiku into the garden. “Tonight, Gyoko-san, I would like her to stay, if she would care to, until dawn—if she’s free. Would you please ask her? Of course I realize that she may be tired now. After all, she’s played so superbly for such a long time and I’ll quite understand. But perhaps she would consider it. I’d be grateful if you would ask her.”

“Of course, Sire, but I know she would be honored by your invitation. It’s our duty to serve in any way we can,
neh?”

“Yes. But she is, as you so rightly point out, most special. I’ll quite understand if she’s too tired. Please ask her in a moment.” He gave Gyoko a small leather bag containing ten koban, regretting the ostentation, but knowing his position demanded it. “Perhaps this would compensate you for such an exhausting evening, and be a small token of my thanks for your ideas.”

“It’s our duty to serve, Sire,” Gyoko said. He saw her trying to stop her fingers from counting through the soft leather, and fail. “Thank you, Sire. Please excuse me, I will ask her.” Then, strangely and unexpectedly, tears filled her eyes. “Please accept the thanks of a vulgar old woman for your courtesy and for listening. It’s just that for all the giving of pleasure, our only reward is a river of tears. In truth, Lord, it is difficult to explain how a woman feels … please excuse me….”

“Listen, Gyoko-san, I understand. Don’t worry. I’ll consider everything you’ve said. Oh yes, you’ll both leave with me shortly after
dawn. A few days in the mountains will make a pleasant change. I would imagine the contract price will be approved,
neh?”

Gyoko bowed her thanks, then she brushed her tears away and said firmly, “May I therefore ask the name of the honored person for whom her contract will be bought?”

“Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara.”

Now under the Yokosé night, the air sweetly cool, Kiku-san’s music and voice possessing their minds and hearts, Toranaga let his mind wander. He remembered the pride-filled glow that had swamped Gyoko’s face and he wondered again at the bewildering gullibility of people. How baffling it was that even the most cunning and clever people would frequently see only what they wanted to see, and would rarely look beyond the thinnest of facades. Or they would ignore reality, dismissing it as the facade. And then, when their whole world fell to pieces and they were on their knees slitting their bellies or cutting their throats, or cast out into the freezing world, they would tear their topknots or rend their clothes and bewail their
karma
, blaming gods or
kami
or luck or their lords or husbands or vassals—anything or anyone—but never themselves.

So very strange.

He looked at his guests and saw they were still watching the girl, locked in their secrets, their minds expanded by her artistry—all except the Anjin-san, who was edgy and fidgeting. Never mind, Anjin-san, Toranaga thought with amusement, it’s only your lack of civilization. Yes, never mind, that will come in time, and even that doesn’t matter so long as you obey. At the moment I need your touchiness and your anger and your violence.

Yes, you’re all here. You Omi, and Yabu and Naga and Buntaro, and you Mariko and Kiku-san and even Gyoko, all my Izu hawks and falcons, all trained and very ready. All here except one—the Christian priest. And soon it’ll be your turn, Tsukku-san. Or perhaps mine.

Father Martin Alvito of the Society of Jesus was enraged. Just when he knew he should be preparing for his meeting with Toranaga, at which he would need all his wits, he was faced with this new abomination that could not wait. “What have you got to say for yourself?” he lashed out at the cowled Japanese acolyte who knelt abjectly in front of him. The other Brothers stood around the small room in a semicircle.

“Please forgive me, Father. I have sinned,” the man stammered in complete misery. “Please forgive—”

“I repeat: It is for Almighty God in His wisdom to forgive, not me. You’ve committed a mortal sin. You’ve broken your Holy Oath. Well?”

The reply was barely audible. “I’m sorry, Father.” The man was thin and frail. His baptismal name was Joseph and he was thirty. His fellow acolytes, all Brothers of the Society, ranged from eighteen to forty. All were tonsured, all of noble samurai birth from provinces in Kyushu, all rigorously trained for the priesthood though none yet ordained.

“I confessed, Father,” Brother Joseph said, keeping his head bowed.

“You think that’s enough?” Impatiently Alvito turned away and walked to the window. The room was ordinary, the mats fair, the paper shoji screens poorly repaired. The inn was seedy and third class but the best that he could find in Yokosé, the rest taken by samurai. He stared out into the night, half listening to Kiku’s distant voice soaring over the noise of the river. Until the courtesan finished Alvito knew he would not be sent for by Toranaga. “Filthy whore,” he said, half to himself, the wailing discordance of Japanese singing annoying him more than usual, intensifying his anger at Joseph’s betrayal.

“Listen, Brothers,” Alvito said to the rest, turning back to them. “We are in judgment over Brother Joseph, who went with a whore of this town last night, breaking his Holy Oath of chastity, breaking his Holy Oath of obedience, desecrating his immortal soul, his position as a Jesuit, his place in the Church and all that that stands for. Before God I ask each of you—have you done likewise?”

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!”