Shōgun by James Clavell
His swords were in the reception room. By custom, all weapons were left under guard, outside the pleasure rooms, to avoid lethal quarrels with other clients, and also to prevent any lady from ending her life. Not all Ladies of the Willow World were happy or fortunate.
Blackthorne put his swords into his sash. Kiku bowed him through to the veranda, where he stepped into his thongs, Gyoko and others assembled to bow him away, an honored guest. Beyond the gateway was the village square and the sea. Many samurai were there milling about, Buntaro among them. Kiku could not see Omi, though she was certain he would be watching somewhere.
The Anjin-san seemed immensely tall, she so small beside him. Now they were crossing the courtyard. Both saw Omi at the same time. He was standing near the gateway.
Blackthorne stopped. “Morning, Omi-san,” he said as a friend and bowed as a friend, not knowing that Omi and Kiku were more than friends. How could he know, she thought. No one has told him—why should they tell him? And what does that matter anyway?
“Good morning, Anjin-san.” Omi’s voice was friendly too, but she saw him bow with only sufficient politeness. Then his jet eyes turned to her again and she bowed, her smile perfect. “Good morning, Omi-san. This house is honored.”
“Thank you, Kiku-san. Thank you.”
She felt his searching gaze but pretended not to notice, keeping her eyes demurely lowered. Gyoko and the maids and the courtesans who were free watched from the veranda.
“I go fortress, Omi-san,” Blackthorne was saying. “All’s well?”
“Yes. Lord Toranaga’s sent for you.”
“Go now. Hope see you soon.”
“Yes.”
Kiku glanced up. Omi was still staring at her. She smiled her best smile and looked at the Anjin-san. He was watching Omi intently; then feeling her eyes, he turned to her and smiled back. It seemed to her a strained smile. “So sorry, Kiku-san, Omi-san, must go now.” He bowed to Omi. It was returned. He went through the gate. She followed, hardly breathing. Movement stopped in the square. In the silence she saw him turn back, and for a hideous moment, she knew he was going to embrace her. But to her enormous relief he did not, and just stood there waiting as a civilized person would wait.
She bowed with all the tenderness she could muster, Omi’s gaze boring into her.
“Thank you, Anjin-san,” she said and smiled at him alone. A sigh went through the square. “Thank you,” then added the time-honored, “Please visit us again. I will count the moments until we meet again.”
He bowed with just the right amount of carelessness, strode off arrogantly as a samurai of quality would. Then, because he had treated her very correctly, and to repay Omi for the unnecessary coldness in his bow, instead of going back into her house at once, she stayed where she was and looked after the Anjin-san to give him greater honor. She waited until he was at the last corner. She saw him look back. He waved once. She bowed very low now delighted with the attention in the square, pretending not to notice it. And only when he was truly gone did she walk back. With pride and with great elegance. And until the gate was closed every man watched her, feeding on such beauty, envious of the Anjin-san, who must be much man for her to wait like that.
“You’re so pretty,” Omi said.
“I wish that were true, Omi-san,” she said with a second-best smile. “Would you like some cha, Omi-sama? Or food?”
“With you, yes.”
Gyoko joined them unctuously. “Please excuse my bad manners, Omi-sama. Do take food with us now, please. Have you had a first meal?”
“No—not yet, but I’m not hungry.” Omi glanced across at Kiku. “Have you eaten yet?”
Gyoko interrupted expansively, “Allow us to bring you something that won’t be too inadequate, Omi-sama. Kiku-san, when you’ve changed you will join us, neh?”
“Of course, please excuse me, Omi-sama, for appearing like this. So sorry.” The girl ran off, pretending a happiness she did not feel, Ako in tow.
Omi said shortly, “I would like to be with her tonight, for food and entertainment.”
“Of course, Omi-sama,” Gyoko replied with a low bow, knowing that she would not be free. “You honor my house and do us too much honor. Kiku-san is so fortunate that you favor her.”
Three thousand koku? Toranaga was scandalized.
“Yes, Sire,” Mariko said. They were on the private veranda in the fortress. Rain had begun already but did not reduce the heat of the day. She felt listless and very tired and longed for autumn coolness. “I’m sorry, but I could not negotiate the woman down any further. I talked until just before dawn. So sorry, Sire, but you did order me to conclude an arrangement last night.”
“But three thousand, Mariko-san! That’s usury!” Actually, Toranaga was glad to have a new problem to take his mind away from the worry that beset him. The Christian priest Tsukku-san traveling with Zataki, the upstart Regent, augured nothing but trouble. He had examined every avenue of escape, every route of retreat and attack that any man could imagine and the answer was always the same: If Ishido moves quickly, I’m lost.
I’ve got to find time. But how?
If I were Ishido I’d start now, before the rains stop.
I’d get men into position just as the Taikō and I did to destroy the Beppu. The same plan will always win—it’s so simple! Ishido can’t be so stupid as not to see that the only real way to defend the Kwanto is to own Osaka, and all the lands between Yedo and Osaka. As long as Osaka’s unfriendly, the Kwanto’s in danger. The Taikō knew it, why else did he give it to me? Without Kiyama, Onoshi, and the barbarian priests….
With an effort Toranaga put tomorrow into its own compartment and concentrated totally on this impossible amount of money. “Three thousand koku’s out of the question!”
“I agree, Sire. You’re correct. It’s my fault entirely. I thought even five hundred would be excessive but the Gyoko woman would come no lower. There is one concession though.”
“What?”
“Gyoko begged the honor of reducing the price to two thousand five hundred koku if you would honor her by agreeing to see her privately for one stick of time.”
“A Mama-san would give up five hundred koku just to speak to me?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Why?” he asked suspiciously.
“She told me her reason, Sire, but humbly begged that she be allowed to explain to you herself. I believe her proposal would be interesting to you, Sire. And five hundred koku … it would be a saving. I’m appalled that I couldn’t make a better arrangement, even though Kiku-san is of the First Rank and completely merits that status. I know I’ve failed you.”
“I agree,” Toranaga said sourly. “Even one thousand would be too much. This is Izu not Kyoto!”
“You’re quite right, Sire. I told the woman that the price was so ridiculous I could not possibly agree to it myself, even though you’d given me direct orders to complete the bargain last night. I hope you will forgive my disobedience, but I said that I would first have to consult with Lady Kasigi, Omi-san’s mother, who’s the most senior lady here, before the arrangement was confirmed.”
Toranaga brightened, his other worries forgotten. “Ah, so it’s arranged but not arranged?”
“Yes, Sire. Nothing is binding until I can consult with the Lady. I said I’d give an answer at noon today. Please forgive my disobedience.”
“You should have concluded the arrangement as I ordered!” Toranaga was secretly delighted that Mariko had cleverly given him the opportunity to agree or disagree without any loss of face. It would have been unthinkable for him personally to quibble over a mere matter of money. But oh ko, three thousand koku…. “You say the girl’s contract’s worth enough rice to feed a thousand families for three years?”
“Worth every grain of rice, to the right man.”
Toranaga eyed her shrewdly. “Oh? Tell me about her and what happened.”
She told him everything—except her feeling for the Anjin-san and the
“Good. Yes, very good. That was clever. Yes,” Toranaga said. “He must have pleased her very much for her to stand at the gateway like that the first time.” Most of Anjiro had been waiting for that moment, to see how the two of them would act, the barbarian and the Willow Lady of the First Rank.
“Yes.”
“The three koku invested was well worth it for him. His fame will run before him now.”
“Yes,” Mariko agreed, more than a little proud of Blackthorne’s success. “She’s an exceptional lady, Sire.”
Toranaga was intrigued by Mariko’s confidence in her arrangement. But five hundred koku for the contract would have been more fair. Five hundred koku was more than most Mama-sans made in a lifetime, so for one of them even to consider giving away five hundred…. “Worth every grain, you say? I can hardly believe that.”
“To the right man, Sire. I believe that. But I could not judge who would be the right man.”
There was a knock on the shoji.
“Yes?”
“The Anjin-san’s at the main gate, Sire.”
“Bring him here.”
“Yes, Sire.”
Toranaga fanned himself. He had been watching Mariko covertly and had seen the momentary light in her face. He had deliberately not warned her that he had sent for him.
What to do? Everything that is planned still applies. But now I need Buntaro and the Anjin-san and Omi-san more than ever. And Mariko, very much.
“Good morning, Toranaga-sama.”
He returned Blackthorne’s bow and noted the sudden warmth when the man saw Mariko. There were formal greetings and replies, then he said, “Mariko-san, tell him that he is to leave with me at dawn. You also. You will continue on to Osaka.”
A chill went through her. “Yes, Sire.”
“I go Osaka, Toranaga-sama?” Blackthorne asked.
“No, Anjin-san. Mariko-san, tell him I’m going to the Shuzenji Spa for a day or two. You both will accompany me there. You’ll go on to Osaka. He will journey with you to the border, then go on to Yedo alone.”
He watched them narrowly as Blackthorne spoke to her, rapidly and urgently.
“So sorry, Toranaga-sama, but the Anjin-san humbly asks if he could borrow me for a few more days. He says, please excuse me, that my presence with him would greatly speed up the matter of his ship. Then, if it pleases you, he would immediately take one of your coastal ships and ferry me to Osaka, going on to Nagasaki himself. He suggests this might save time.”
“I haven’t decided anything about his ship, yet. Or about a crew. He may not need to go to Nagasaki. Make that very clear. No, nothing is decided. But I’ll consider the request about you. You’ll get my decision tomorrow. You can go now…. Oh yes, lastly, Mariko-san, tell him that I want his genealogy. He can write it down and you’ll translate it, affirming its correctness.”
“Yes, Sire. Do you want it at once?”
“No. When he arrives at Yedo will be time enough.”
Mariko explained to Blackthorne.
“Why does he want that?” he asked.
Mariko stared at him. “Of course all samurai have to have their births and deaths recorded, Anjin-san, as well as their fiefs and land grants. How else can a liege lord keep everything balanced? Isn’t it the same in your country? Here, by law, all our citizens are in official records, even eta: births, deaths, marriages. Every hamlet or village or city street has its official scroll. How else can you be sure where and to whom you belong?”
“We don’t write it down. Not always. And not officially. Everyone’s recorded? Everyone?”
“Oh yes, even eta, Anjin-san. It’s important, neh? Then no one can pretend to be what he is not, wrongdoers can be caught more easily, and men and women or parents can’t cheat in marriage, neh?”
Blackthorne put that aside for later consideration and played another card in the game he had joined with Toranaga that he hoped would lead to the death of the Black Ship.
Mariko listened attentively, questioned him a moment, then turned to Toranaga. “Sire, the Anjin-san thanks you for your favor and your many gifts. He asks if you would honor him by choosing his two hundred vassals for him. He says your guidance in this would be worth anything.”
“Is it worth a thousand koku?” Toranaga asked at once. He saw her surprise and the Anjin-san’s. I’m glad you’re still transparent, Anjin-san, for all your veneer of civilization, he thought. If I were a gambling person, I’d wager that that wasn’t your idea—to ask for my guidance.
“Hai,” he heard Blackthorne say firmly.
“Good,” he replied crisply. “Since the Anjin-san’s so generous, I’ll accept his offer. One thousand koku. That will help some other needy samurai. Tell him his men will be waiting for him in Yedo. I’ll see you at dawn tomorrow, Anjin-san.”
“Yes. Thank you, Toranaga-sama.”
“Mariko-san, consult with the Lady Kasigi at once. Since you approved the amount I imagine she’ll agree to your arrangement however hideous it seems, though I’d suppose she’ll need until dawn tomorrow to give such a ridiculous sum her full consideration. Send some menial to order the Gyoko woman here at sunset. She can bring the courtesan with her. Kiku-san can sing while we talk, neh?”
He dismissed them, delighted to have saved fifteen hundred koku. People are so extravagant, he thought benignly.
“Will that leave me enough to get a crew?” Blackthorne asked.
“Oh, yes, Anjin-san. But he hasn’t agreed to allow you to go to Nagasaki yet,” Mariko said. “Five hundred koku would be more than enough to live on for a year, and the other five hundred will give you about one hundred and eighty koban in gold to buy seamen. That’s a very great deal of money.”
Fujiko lifted herself painfully and spoke to Mariko.
“Your consort says that you shouldn’t worry, Anjin-san. She can give you letters of credit to certain moneylenders who will advance you all that you’ll need. She’ll arrange everything.”
“Yes, but haven’t I got to pay all my retainers? How do I pay for a house, Fujiko-san, my household?”
Mariko was shocked. “Please, so sorry, but this is of course not your worry. Your consort has told you that she will take care of everything. She—”
Fujiko interrupted and the two women spoke together for a moment.
“Ah so desu, Fujiko-san!” Mariko turned back to Blackthorne. “She says you must not waste time thinking about it. She begs you please to spend your time worrying only about Lord Toranaga’s problems. She has money of her own which she can draw upon, should it be necessary.”
Blackthorne blinked. “She’ll lend me her own money?”
“Oh, no, Anjin-san, of course she’ll give it to you, if you need it, Anjin-san. Don’t forget your problem’s only this year,” Mariko explained. “Next year you’re rich, Anjin-san. As to your retainers, for one year they’ll get two koku each. Don’t forget Toranaga-sama’s giving you all their arms and horses, and two koku’s enough to feed them and their horses and families. And don’t forget, too, you gave Lord Toranaga half your year’s income to ensure that they would be chosen by him personally. That’s a tremendous honor, Anjin-san.”
“You think so?”
“Oh certainly. Fujiko-san agrees wholeheartedly. You were most shrewd to think of that.”
“Thank you.” Blackthorne allowed a little of his pleasure to show. You’re getting your wits back again and you’re beginning to think like them, he told himself happily. Yes, that was clever to co-opt Toranaga. Now you’ll get the best men possible, and you could never have done it alone. What’s a thousand koku against the Black Ship? So yet another of the things Mariko had said was true: that one of Toranaga’s weaknesses was that he was a miser. Of course, she had not said so directly, only that Toranaga made all his incredible wealth go further than any daimyo in the kingdom. This clue, added to his own observations—that Toranaga’s clothes were as simple as his food,
Thank God for Mariko and old Friar Domingo!
Blackthorne’s memory took him back to the jail and he thought how close he had been to death then, and how close he was to death now, even with all his honors. What Toranaga gives, he can take away. You think he’s your friend, but if he’ll assassinate a wife and murder a favorite son, how would you value his friendship or your life? I don’t, Blackthorne told himself, renewing his pledge. That’s karma. I can do nothing about karma and I’ve been living near death all my life, so nothing’s new. I yield to karma in all its beauty. I accept karma in all its majesty. I trust karma to get me through the next six months. Then, by this time next year, I’ll be scudding through Magellan’s Pass, bound for London Town, out of his reach….
Fujiko was talking. He watched her. The bandages were still discolored. She was lying painfully on the futons, a maid fanning her.
“She’ll arrange everything for you by dawn, Anjin-san,” Mariko said. “Your consort suggests you take two horses and a baggage horse. One man servant and one maid—”
“A man servant’ll be enough.”
“So sorry, the maid servant must go to serve you. And of course a cook and a cook helper.”
“Won’t there be kitchens that we—I can use?”
“Oh, yes. But you still have to have your own cooks, Anjin-san. You’re a hatamoto.”
He knew there was no point in arguing. “I’ll leave everything to you.”
“Oh, that’s so wise of you, Anjin-san, very wise. Now I must go and pack, please excuse me.” Mariko left happily. They had not talked much, just enough in Latin for each to know that though the magic night had never come to pass and was, like the other night, never to be discussed, both would live in their imaginations forever.
“Thou.”
“Thou.”
“I was so proud when I heard she stood at the gate for such a long time. Thy face is immense now, Anjin-san.”
“For a moment I almost forgot what thou hadst told me. Involuntarily I was within a hair’s distance of kissing her in public.”