Shogun (53 page)

Toranaga’s the key. How are you going to handle him?

They passed another checkpoint, and turned a corner. Ahead was the last portcullis and last gateway of the castle proper, and beyond it, the final drawbridge and final moat. At the far side was the ultimate strongpoint. A multitude of flares made the night into crimson day.

Then Ishido stepped out of the shadows.

The Browns saw him almost at the same instant. Hostility whipped through them. Buntaro almost leaped past Blackthorne to get nearer the head of the column.

“That bastard’s spoiling for a fight,” Blackthorne said.

“Senhor? I’m sorry, senhor, what did you say?”

“Just—I said your husband seems—Ishido seems to get your husband very angry, very quickly.”

She made no reply.

Yabu halted. Unconcerned he handed the safe conduct to the captain of the gate and wandered over to Ishido. “I didn’t expect to see you again. Your guards are very efficient.”

“Thank you.” Ishido was watching Buntaro and the closed litter behind him.

“Once should be enough to check our pass,” Buntaro said, his
weapons rattling ominously. “Twice at the most. What are we—a war party? It’s insulting.”

“No insult is intended, Buntaro-san. Because of the assassin, I ordered tighter security.” Ishido eyed Blackthorne briefly and wondered again if he should let him go or hold him as Onoshi and Kiyama wanted. Then he looked at Buntaro again. Offal, he thought. Your head will be on a spike soon. How could such exquisiteness as Mariko stay married to an ape like you?

The new captain was meticulously checking everyone, ensuring that they matched the list. “Everything’s in order, Yabu-sama,” he said as he returned to the head of the column. “You don’t need the pass anymore. We keep it here.”

“Good.” Yabu turned to Ishido. “We meet soon.”

Ishido took a roll of parchment out of his sleeve. “I wanted to ask Lady Kiritsubo if she’d take this with her to Yedo. For my niece. It’s unlikely I’ll go to Yedo for some time.”

“Certainly.” Yabu put out his hand.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Yabu-san. I’ll ask her.” Ishido walked toward the litter.

The maids obsequiously intercepted him. Asa held out her hand. “May I take the message, Lord. My Mis—”

“No.”

To the surprise of Ishido and everyone nearby, the maids did not move out of the way.

“But my Mis—”

“Move!” Buntaro snarled.

Both maids backed off with abject humility, frightened now.

Ishido bowed to the curtain. “Kiritsubo-san, I wonder if you’d be kind enough to take this message for me to Yedo? To my niece?”

There was a slight hesitation between the sobs and the figure bowed an assent.

“Thank you.” Ishido offered up the slim roll of parchment an inch from the curtains.

The sobs stopped. Blackthorne realized Toranaga was trapped. Politeness demanded that Toranaga take the scroll and his hand would give him away.

Everyone waited for the hand to appear.

“Kiritsubo-san?”

Still no movement. Then Ishido took a quick pace forward, jerked the curtains apart and at the same instant Blackthorne let out a bellow
and began dancing up and down like a maniac. Ishido and the others whirled on him dumbfounded.

For an instant Toranaga was in full view behind Ishido. Blackthorne thought that perhaps Toranaga could pass for Kiritsubo at twenty paces but here at five, impossible, even though the veil covered his face. And in the never-ending second before Toranaga had tugged the curtains closed again, Blackthorne knew that Yabu had recognized him, Mariko certainly, Buntaro probably, and some of the samurai possibly. He lunged forward, grabbed the roll of parchment and thrust it through a crack in the curtains and turned, babbling, “It’s bad luck in my country for a prince to give a message himself like a common bastard … bad luck …”

It had all happened so unexpectedly and so fast that Ishido’s sword was not out until Blackthorne was bowing and raving in front of him like an insane jack-in-the-box, then his reflexes took over and sent the sword slashing for the throat.

Blackthorne’s desperate eyes found Mariko. “For Christ’s sake, help—bad luck—
bad luck!”

She cried out. The blade stopped a hair’s breadth from his neck. Mariko poured out an explanation of what Blackthorne had said. Ishido lowered his sword, listened for a moment, overrode her with a furious harangue, then shouted with increasing vehemence and hit Blackthorne in the face with the back of his hand.

Blackthorne went berserk. He bunched his great fists and hurled himself at Ishido.

If Yabu hadn’t been quick enough to catch Ishido’s sword arm Blackthorne’s head would have rolled in the dust. Buntaro, a split second later, grabbed Blackthorne, who already had his hands around Ishido’s throat. It took four Browns to haul him off Ishido, then Buntaro smashed him hard on the back of the neck, stunning him. Grays leaped to their master’s defense, but Browns surrounded Blackthorne and the litters and for a moment it was a standoff, Mariko and the maids deliberately wailing and crying, helping to create further chaos and diversions.

Yabu began placating Ishido, Mariko tearfully repeated over and over in forced semihysteria that the mad barbarian believed he was only trying to save Ishido, the Great Commander—whom he thought was a prince—from a bad
kami
. “And it’s the worst insult to touch their faces, just like with us, that’s what sent him momentarily mad.
He’s a senseless barbarian but a
daimyo
in his own land and he was only trying to help you, Lord!”

Ishido ranted and kicked Blackthorne, who was just coming to. Blackthorne heard the tumult with great peace. His eyes cleared. Grays were surrounding them twenty to one, swords drawn, but so far no one was dead and everyone waited in discipline.

Blackthorne saw that all attention was focused on him. But now he knew he had allies.

Ishido spun on him again and came closer, shouting. He felt the grip of the Browns tighten and knew the blow was coming, but this time, instead of trying to fight out of their grasp, which they expected, he started to collapse, then immediately straightened and broke away, laughing insanely, and began a jibbering hornpipe. Friar Domingo had told him that everyone in Japan believed madness was caused only by a
kami
and thus madmen, like all young children and very old men, were not responsible and had special privileges, sometimes. So he capered in a frenzy, singing in time to Mariko, “Help … I need help for God’s sake … can’t keep this up much longer … help …” desperately acting the lunatic, knowing it was the only thing that might save them.

“He’s mad—he’s possessed,” Mariko cried out, at once realizing Blackthorne’s ploy.

“Yes,” Yabu said, still trying to recover from the shock of seeing Toranaga, not knowing yet if the Anjin-san was acting or if he had really gone mad.

Mariko was beside herself. She didn’t know what to do. The Anjin-san saved Lord Toranaga but how did he know? she kept repeating to herself senselessly.

Blackthorne’s face was bloodless except for the scarlet weal from the blows. He danced on and on, frantically waiting for help but none came. Then, silently damning Yabu and Buntaro as motherless cowards and Mariko for the stupid bitch she was, he stopped the dance suddenly, bowed to Ishido like a spastic puppet and half walked, half danced for the gateway. “Follow me, follow me!” he shouted, his voice almost strangling him, trying to lead the way like a Pied Piper.

The Grays barred his way. He roared with feigned rage and imperiously ordered them out of the way, immediately switching to hysterical laughter.

Ishido grabbed a bow and arrow. The Grays scattered. Blackthorne
was almost through the gateway. He turned at bay, knowing there was no point in running. Helplessly he began his rabid dance again.

“He’s mad, a mad dog! Mad dogs have to be dealt with!” Ishido’s voice was raw. He armed the bow and aimed.

At once Mariko leapt forward from her protective position near Toranaga’s litter and began to walk toward Blackthorne. “Don’t worry, Lord Ishido,” she cried out. “There’s no need to worry—it’s a momentary madness—may I be permitted …” As she came closer she could see Blackthorne’s exhaustion, the set maniacal smile, and she was frightened in spite of herself. “I can help now, Anjin-san,” she said hurriedly. “We have to try to—to walk out. I will follow you. Don’t worry, he won’t shoot us. Please stop dancing now.”

Blackthorne stopped instantly, turned and walked quietly onto the bridge. She followed a pace behind him as was custom, expecting the arrows, hearing them.

A thousand eyes watched the giant madman and the tiny woman on the bridge, walking away.

Yabu came to life. “If you want him killed, let me do it, Ishido-sama. It’s unseemly for you to take his life. A general doesn’t kill with his own hands. Others should do his killing for him.” He came very close and he dropped his voice. “Leave him alive. The madness came from your blow. He’s a
daimyo
in his own land and the blow—it was as Mariko-san said,
neh?
Trust me, he’s valuable to us alive.”

“What?”

“He’s more valuable alive. Trust me. You can have him dead any time. We need him alive.”

Ishido read desperation in Yabu’s face, and truth. He put the bow down. “Very well. But one day I’ll want him alive. I’ll hang him by his heels over the pit.”

Yabu swallowed and half bowed. He nervously waved the cortege onward, fearful that Ishido would remember the litter and “Kiritsubo.”

Buntaro, pretending deference, took the initiative and started the Browns on their way. He did not question the fact that Toranaga had magically appeared like a
kami
in their midst, only that his master was in danger and almost defenseless. He saw that Ishido had not taken his eyes off Mariko and the Anjin-san, but even so, he bowed politely to him and set himself behind Toranaga’s litter to protect his master from any arrows if the fight began here.

The column was approaching the gate now. Yabu fell into place
as a lonely rear guard. Any moment he expected the cortege to be halted. Surely some of the Grays must have seen Toranaga, he thought. How soon before they tell Ishido? Won’t he think I was part of the escape attempt? Won’t this ruin me forever?

Halfway over the bridge Mariko looked back for an instant. “They’re following, Anjin-san, both litters are through the gate and they’re on the bridge now!”

Blackthorne did not reply or turn back. It required all of his remaining will to stay erect. He had lost his sandals, his face burned from the blow, and his head pounded with pain. The last guards let him through the portcullis and beyond. They also let Mariko pass without stopping. And then the litters.

Blackthorne led the way down the slight hill, past the open ground and across the far bridge. Only when he was in the wooded area totally out of sight of the castle did he collapse.

“Anjin-san—Anjin-san!”

Semiconscious, he allowed Mariko to help him drink some saké. The column had halted, the Browns arranged tightly around the curtained litter, their escorting Grays ahead and behind. Buntaro had shouted at one of the maids, who had immediately produced the flask from one of the baggage kagas, told his personal guards to keep everyone away from “Kiritsubo-san’s” litter, then hurried to Mariko. “Is the Anjin-san all right?”

“Yes, yes, I think so,” Mariko replied. Yabu joined them.

To try to throw off the captain of the Grays, Yabu said carelessly, “We can go on, Captain. We’ll leave a few men and Mariko-san. When the barbarian’s recovered, she and the men can follow.”

“With great deference, Yabu-san, we will wait. I’m charged to deliver you all safely to the galley. As one party,” the captain told him.

They all looked down as Blackthorne choked slightly on the wine. “Thanks,” he croaked. “Are we safe now? Who else knows that—”

“You’re safe now!” she interrupted deliberately. She had her back
to the captain and she cautioned him with her eyes. “Anjin-san, you’re safe now and there’s no need to worry. Do you understand? You had some kind of fit. Just look around—you’re safe now!”

Blackthorne did as she ordered. He saw the captain and the Grays and understood. His strength was returning quickly now, helped by the wine. “Sorry, senhora. It was just panic, I think. I must be getting old. I go mad often and can never remember afterwards what happened. Speaking Portuguese is exhausting, isn’t it?” He switched to Latin. “Canst thou understand?”

“Assuredly.”

“Is this tongue ‘easier’?”

“Perhaps,” she said, relieved that he understood the need for caution, even using Latin, which was to Japanese an almost incomprehensible and unlearnable language except to a handful of men in the Empire, all of whom would be Jesuit trained and most committed to the priesthood. She was the only woman in all their world who could speak and read and write Latin and Portuguese. “Both languages are difficult, each hath dangers.”

“Who else knoweth the ‘dangers’?”

“My husband and he who leads us.”

“Art thou sure?”

“Both indicated thusly.”

The captain of Grays shifted restlessly and said something to Mariko.

“He asks if thou art yet dangerous, if thy hands and feet should be restrained. I said no. Thou art cured of thy palsy now.”

“Yes,” he said, lapsing back into Portuguese. “I have fits often. If someone hits me in the face it sends me mad. I’m sorry. Never can remember what happens during them. It’s the Finger of God.” He saw that the captain was concentrating on his lips and he thought, caught you, you bastard, I’ll bet you understand Portuguese.

Sono the maid had her head bent close to the litter curtains. She listened, and came back to Mariko.

“So sorry, Mariko-sama, but my Mistress asks if the madman is well enough to continue? She asks if you would give him your litter because my Mistress feels we should hurry for the tide. All the trouble that the madman has caused has made her even more upset. But, knowing that the mad are only afflicted by the gods, she will say prayers for his return to health, and will personally give him medicines to cure him once we are aboard.”