Shogun (31 page)

Toranaga had not moved. He spoke to Father Alvito.

“You are to come over here, Captain Blackthorne, away from the door,” Father Alvito said with carefully contained urgency. “If you value your life, don’t move suddenly or say anything.” He moved slowly to the left inner door and sat down near it.

Blackthorne bowed uneasily to Toranaga, who ignored him, and walked toward the priest cautiously, deeply conscious that from his point of view the interview was a disaster. “What’s going on?” he whispered as he sat.

The nearby guards stiffened menacingly and the priest said some
thing quickly to reassure them. “You’ll be a dead man the next time you speak,” he said to Blackthorne, and thought, the sooner the better. With measured slowness, he took a handkerchief from his sleeve and wiped the sweat off his hands. It had taken all his training and fortitude to remain calm and genial during the heretic’s interview, which had been worse than even he and the Father-Visitor had expected.

“You’ll have to be present?” the Father-Visitor had asked last night.

“Toranaga has asked me specifically.”

“I think it’s very dangerous for you and for all of us. Perhaps you could plead sickness. If you’re there you’ll have to translate what the pirate says—and from what Father Sebastio writes he’s a devil on earth, as cunning as a Jew.”

“It’s much better I should be there, Eminence. At least I’ll be able to intercept Blackthorne’s less obvious lies.”

“Why has he come here? Why now, when everything was becoming perfect again? Do they really have other ships in the Pacific? Is it possible they’ve sent a fleet against Spanish Manila? Not that I care one whit for that pestilential city or any of the Spanish colonies in the Philippines, but an enemy fleet in the Pacific! That would have terrible implications for us here in Asia. And if he could get Toranaga’s ear, or Ishido’s, or any of the more powerful
daimyos
—well, it would be enormously difficult, to say the least.”

“Blackthorne’s a fact. Fortunately we’re in a position to deal with him.”

“As God is my judge, if I didn’t know better I’d almost believe the Spaniards—or more probably their misguided lackeys, the Franciscans and Benedictines—deliberately guided him here just to plague us.”

“Perhaps they did, Eminence. There’s nothing the monks won’t do to destroy us. But that’s only jealousy because we’re succeeding where they’re failing. Surely God will show them the error of their ways! Perhaps the Englishman will ‘remove’ himself before he does any harm. His rutters prove him to be what he is. A pirate and leader of pirates!”

“Read them to Toranaga, Martin. The parts where he describes the sacking of the defenseless settlements from Africa to Chile, and the lists of plunder and all the killings.”

“Perhaps we should wait, Eminence. We can always produce the rutters. Let’s hope he’ll damn himself without them.”

Father Alvito wiped the palms of his hands again. He could feel Blackthorne’s eyes on him. God have mercy on you, he thought. For what you’ve said today to Toranaga, your life’s not worth a counterfeit mite, and worse, your soul’s beyond redemption. You’re crucified, even without the evidence in your rutters. Should we send them back to Father Sebastio so he can return them to Mura? What would Toranaga do if the papers were never discovered? No, that’d be too dangerous for Mura.

The door at the far end shivered open.

“Lord Ishido wishes to see you, Sire,” Naga announced. “He’s—he’s here in the corridor and he wishes to see you. At once, he says.”

“All of you, go back to your places,” Toranaga said to his men. He was instantly obeyed. But all samurai sat facing the door, Hiro-matsu at their head, swords eased in their scabbards. “Naga-san, tell Lord Ishido he is always welcome. Ask him to come in.”

The tall man strode into the room. Ten of his samurai—Grays—followed, but they remained at the doorway and, at his signal, sat cross-legged.

Toranaga bowed with precise formality and the bow was returned with equal exactitude.

Father Alvito blessed his luck that he was present. The impending clash between the two rival leaders would completely affect the course of the Empire and the future of Mother Church in Japan, so any clue or direct information that might help the Jesuits to decide where to throw their influence would be of immeasurable importance. Ishido was Zen Buddhist and fanatically anti-Christian, Toranaga was Zen Buddhist and openly sympathetic. But most Christian
daimyos
supported Ishido, fearing—with justification, Father Alvito believed—the ascendence of Toranaga. The Christian
daimyos
felt that if Toranaga eliminated Ishido’s influence from the Council of Regents, Toranaga would usurp all power for himself. And once he had power, they believed he would implement the Taikō’s Expulsion Edicts and stamp out the True Faith. If, however, Toranaga was eliminated, the succession, a weak succession, would be assured and the Mother Church would prosper.

As the allegiance of the Christian
daimyos
wavered, so it was with all the other
daimyos
in the land, and the balance of power between the two leaders fluctuated constantly, so no one knew for certain which side was, in reality, the most powerful. Even he, Father Alvito, the most informed European in the Empire, could not say for certain
which side even the Christian
daimyos
would actually support when the clash became open, or which faction would prevail.

He watched Toranaga walk off the dais, through the encircling safety of his men.

“Welcome, Lord Ishido. Please sit there.” Toranaga gestured at the single cushion on the dais. “I’d like you to be comfortable.”

“Thank you, no, Lord Toranaga.” Ishido Kazunari was lean and swarthy and very tough, a year younger than Toranaga. They were ancient enemies. Eighty thousand samurai in and around Osaka Castle did his bidding, for he was Commander of the Garrison—and therefore Commander of the Heir’s Bodyguard—Chief General of the Armies of the West, Conqueror of Korea, member of the Council of Regents, and formally Inspector General of all the late Taikō’s armies, which were legally all the armies of all
daimyos
throughout the realm.

“Thank you, no,” he repeated. “I’d be embarrassed to be comfortable while you were not,
neh?
One day I will take your cushion, but not today.”

A current of anger went through the Browns at Ishido’s implied threat, but Toranaga replied amiably, “You came at a most opportune moment. I was just finishing interviewing the new barbarian. Tsukku-san, please tell him to stand up.”

The priest did as he was bidden. He felt Ishido’s hostility from across the room. Apart from being anti-Christian, Ishido had always been vigorous in his condemnation of all Europeans and wanted the Empire totally closed to them.

Ishido looked at Blackthorne with pronounced distaste. “I heard he was ugly but I didn’t realize how ugly. Rumor has it that he’s a pirate. Is he?”

“Can you doubt it? And he’s also a liar.”

“Then before you crucify him, please let me have him for half a day. The Heir might be amused to see him with his head on first.” Ishido laughed roughly. “Or perhaps he should be taught to dance like a bear, then you could exhibit him throughout the Empire: ‘The Freak from the East.’”

Though it was true that Blackthorne had, uniquely, come out of the eastern seas—unlike the Portuguese, who always came from the south and hence were called Southern Barbarians—Ishido was blatantly implying that Toranaga, who dominated the eastern provinces, was the true freak.

But Toranaga merely smiled as though he did not understand. “You’re a man of vast humor, Lord Ishido,” he said. “But I agree the sooner the barbarian’s removed the better. He’s long-winded, arrogant, loud-mouthed, an oddity, yes, but one of little value, and with no manners whatsoever. Naga-san, send some men and put him with the common criminals. Tsukku-san, tell him to follow them.”

“Captain-Pilot, you are to follow those men.”

“Where am I going?”

Father Alvito hesitated. He was glad that he had won, but his opponent was brave and had an immortal soul which could yet be saved. “You are to be detained,” he said.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know, my son. Until Lord Toranaga decides.”

As Toranaga watched the barbarian leave the room, he took his mind regretfully off the startling interview and came to grips with the more immediate problem of Ishido.

Toranaga had decided not to dismiss the priest, knowing it would further infuriate Ishido, even though he was equally certain the continued presence of the priest might be dangerous. The less foreigners know, the better. The less anyone knows the better, he thought. Will Tsukku-san’s influence on the Christian
daimyos
be for me or against me? Until today I would have trusted him implicitly. But there were some strange moments with the barbarian that I don’t yet understand.

Ishido deliberately did not follow the usual courtesies but came instantly to the point. “Again I must ask, what is your answer to the Council of Regents?”

“Again I repeat: As President of the Council of Regents I do not believe any answer is necessary. I’ve made a few minor family relationships that are unimportant. No answer is required.”

“You betrothe your son, Naga-san, to the daughter of Lord Masamune—marry one of your granddaughters to Lord Zataki’s son and heir—another granddaughter to Lord Kiyama’s son. All the marriages
are to feudal lords or their close relations and therefore not minor and absolutely contrary to our Master’s orders.”

“Our late Master, the Taikō, has been dead a year. Unfortunately. Yes. I regret my brother-in-law’s death and would have preferred him alive and still guiding the destiny of the Empire.” Toranaga added pleasantly, turning a knife in a constant wound, “If my brother-in-law were alive there’s no doubt he would approve these family connections. His instructions applied to marriages that threatened the succession of
his
house. I don’t threaten his house or my nephew Yaemon, the Heir. I’m content as Lord of the Kwanto. I seek no more territory. I’m at peace with my neighbors and wish his peace to continue. By the Lord Buddha, I’ll not be the first to break the peace.”

For six centuries the realm had been seared by constant civil war. Thirty-five years ago, a minor
daimyo
called Goroda had taken possession of Kyoto, abetted mainly by Toranaga. Over the next two decades this warrior had miraculously subdued half of Japan, made a mountain of skulls and declared himself Dictator—still not yet powerful enough to petition the reigning Emperor to grant him the title Shōgun though he was vaguely descended from a branch of the Fujimotos. Then, sixteen years ago, Goroda was assassinated by one of his generals and his power fell into the hands of his chief vassal and most brilliant general, the peasant Nakamura.

In four short years, General Nakamura, helped by Toranaga, Ishido, and others, obliterated Goroda’s descendants and brought the whole of Japan under his absolute, sole control, the first time in history that one man had subjugated all the realm. In triumph, he went to Kyoto to bow before Go-Nijo, the Son of Heaven. There, because he was born peasant, Nakamura had had to accept the lesser title of Kwampaku, Chief Adviser, which later he renounced in favor of his son, taking for himself the title Taikō. But every
daimyo
bowed before him, even Toranaga. Incredibly, there had been complete peace for twelve years. Last year the Taikō had died.

“By the Lord Buddha,” Toranaga said again. “I’ll not be the first to break the peace.”

“But you will go to war?”

“A wise man prepares for treachery,
neh?
There are evil men in every province. Some are in high places. We both know the limitless extent of treachery in the hearts of men.” Toranaga stiffened. “Where the Taikō left a legacy of unity, now we are split into my East and
your West. The Council of Regents is divided. The
daimyos
are at odds. A Council cannot rule a maggot-infested hamlet, let alone an Empire. The sooner the Taikō’s son is of age, the better. The sooner there’s another Kwampaku the better.”

“Or perhaps Shōgun?” Ishido said insinuatingly.

“Kwampaku or Shōgun or Taikō, the power is the same,” Toranaga said. “Of what real value is a title? The
power
is the only important thing. Goroda never became Shōgun. Nakamura was more than content as Kwampaku and later Taikō. He
ruled
and that is the important thing. What does it matter that my brother-in-law was once a peasant? What does it matter that my family is ancient? What does it matter that you’re low born? You’re a general, a liege lord, even one of the Council of Regents.”

It matters very much, Ishido thought. You know it. I know it. Every
daimyo
knows it. Even the Taikō knew it. “Yaemon is seven. In seven years he becomes Kwampaku. Until that time—”

“In
eight
years, General Ishido. That’s our historic law. When my nephew is fifteen he becomes adult and inherits. Until that time we five Regents rule in his name. That’s what our late Master willed.”

“Yes. And he also ordered that no hostages were to be taken by Regents against one another. Lady Ochiba, the mother of the Heir, is hostage in your castle at Yedo, against your safety here, and that also violates his will. You formally agreed to obey his covenants as did all the Regents. You even signed the document in your own blood.”

Toranaga sighed. “The Lady Ochiba is visiting Yedo where her only sister is in labor. Her sister is married to my son and heir. My son’s place is in Yedo while I am here. What’s more natural than for a sister to visit a sister at such a time? Isn’t she honored? Perhaps I’ll have a first grandson,
neh?”

“The mother of the Heir is the most important lady in the Empire. She should not be in—” Ishido was going to say “enemy hands” but he thought better of it—“in an unusual city.” He paused, then added clearly, “The Council would like you to order her home today.”

Toranaga avoided the trap. “I repeat, the Lady Ochiba’s no hostage and therefore is not under my orders and never was.”