Shogun (73 page)

“How long will that take?”

“I don’t know. But I’m here for three days. Perhaps this may be a help to you. And Fujiko-san is here to help also.” She smiled, happy for him. “I’m honored to tell you she is given to you as consort and she—”

“
What?”

“Lord Toranaga asked her if she would be your consort and she said she would be honored and agreed. She will—”

“But I haven’t agreed.”

“Please? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want her. Either as consort or around me. I find her ugly.”

Mariko gaped at him. “But what’s that got to do with consort?”

“Tell her to leave.”

“But Anjin-san, you can’t refuse! That would be a terrible insult to Lord Toranaga, to her, to everyone! What harm has she done you? None at all! Usagi Fujiko’s consen—”

“You listen to me!” Blackthorne’s words ricocheted around the veranda and the house. “Tell her to leave!”

Mariko said at once, “So sorry, Anjin-san, yes you’re right to be angry. But—”

“I’m not angry,” Blackthorne said icily. “Can’t you …
can’t
you people get it through your heads I’m tired of being a puppet? I don’t want that woman around, I want my ship back and my crew back and that’s the end of it! I’m not staying here six months and I detest your customs. It’s God-cursed terrible that one man can threaten to bury a whole village just to teach me Japanese, and as to consorts—that’s worse than slavery—and it’s a goddamned insult to arrange that without asking me in advance!”

What’s the matter now? Mariko was asking herself helplessly. What has ugliness to do with consort? And anyway Fujiko’s not ugly. How can he be so incomprehensible? Then she remembered Toranaga’s admonition: ‘Mariko-san, you’re personally responsible, firstly that Yabu-san doesn’t interfere with my departure after I’ve given him my sword, and secondly, you’re totally responsible for settling the Anjin-san docilely in Anjiro.’

‘I’ll do my best, Sire. But I’m afraid the Anjin-san baffles me.’

‘Treat him like a hawk. That’s the key to him. I tame a hawk in two days. You’ve three.’

She looked away from Blackthorne and put her wits to work. He does seem like a hawk when he’s in a rage, she thought. He has the same screeching, senseless ferocity, and when not in rage the same haughty, unblinking stare, the same total selfcenteredness, with exploding viciousness never far away.

“I agree. You’re completely right. You’ve been imposed upon terribly, and you’re quite right to be angry,” she said soothingly. “Yes, and certainly Lord Toranaga should have asked even though he doesn’t understand your customs. But it never occurred to him that you would object. He only tried to honor you as he would a most favored samurai. He made you a hatamoto, that’s almost like a kinsman, Anjin-san. There are only about a thousand hatamoto in all the Kwanto. And as to the Lady Fujiko, he was only trying to help you. The Lady Usagi Fujiko would be considered … among us, Anjin-san, this would be considered a great honor.”

“Why?”

“Because her lineage is ancient and she’s very accomplished. Her father and grandfather are
daimyos
. Of course she’s samurai, and of course,” Mariko added delicately, “you would honor her by accepting her. And she does need a home and a new life.”

“Why?”

“She is recently widowed. She’s only nineteen, Anjin-san, poor girl, but she lost a husband and a son and is filled with remorse. To be formal consort to you would give her a new life.”

“What happened to her husband and son?”

Mariko hesitated, distressed at Blackthorne’s impolite directness. But she knew enough about him by now to understand that this was
his
custom and not meant as lack of manners. “They were put to death, Anjin-san. While you’re here you will need someone to look after your house. The Lady Fujiko will be—”

“Why were they put to death?”

“Her husband almost caused the death of Lord Toranaga. Please con—”

“Toranaga ordered their deaths?”

“Yes. But he was correct. Ask her—she will agree, Anjin-san.”

“How old was the child?”

“A few months, Anjin-san.”

“Toranaga had an infant put to death for something the father did?”

“Yes. It’s our custom. Please be patient with us. In some things we are not free. Our customs are different from yours. You see, by law, we belong to our liege lord. By law a father possesses the lives of his children and wife and consorts and servants. By law his life is possessed by his liege lord. This is our custom.”

“So a father can kill anyone in his house?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re a nation of murderers.”

“No.”

“But your custom condones murder. I thought you were Christian.”

“I am, Anjin-san.”

“What about the Commandments?”

“I cannot explain, truly. But I am Christian and samurai and Japanese, and these are not hostile to one another. To me, they’re not. Please be patient with me and with us. Please.”

“You’d put your own children to death if Toranaga ordered it?”

“Yes. I only have one son but yes, I believe I would. Certainly it would be my duty to do so. That’s the law—if my husband agreed.”

“I hope God can forgive you. All of you.”

“God understands, Anjin-san. Oh, He will understand. Perhaps He will open your mind so you can understand. I’m sorry, I cannot explain very well,
neh?
I apologize for my lack.” She watched him in the silence, unsettled by him. “I don’t understand you either, Anjin-san. You baffle me. Your customs baffle me. Perhaps if we’re both patient we can both learn. The Lady Fujiko, for instance. As consort she will look after your house and your servants. And your needs—any of your needs. You must have someone to do that. She will see to the running of your house, everything. You do not need to pillow her, if that concerns you—if you do not find her pleasing. You do not even need to be polite to her, though she merits politeness. She will serve you, as you wish, in any way you wish.”

“I can treat her any way I want?”

“Yes.”

“I can pillow her or not pillow her?”

“Of course. She will find someone that pleases you, to satisfy your body needs, if you wish, or she will not interfere.”

“I can treat her like a servant? A slave?”

“Yes. But she merits better.”

“Can I throw her out? Order her out?”

“If she offends you, yes.”

“What would happen to her?”

“Normally she would go back to her parents’ house in disgrace, who may or may not accept her back. Someone like Lady Fujiko would prefer to kill herself before enduring that shame. But she … you should know true samurai are not permitted to kill themselves without their lord’s permission. Some do, of course, but they’ve failed in their duty and aren’t worthy to be considered samurai. I would not kill myself, whatever the shame, not without Lord Toranaga’s permission or my husband’s permission. Lord Toranaga has forbidden her to end her life. If you send her away, she’ll become an outcast.”

“Why? Why won’t her family accept her back?”

Mariko sighed. “So sorry, Anjin-san, but if you send her away, her disgrace will be such that no one will accept her.”

“Because she’s contaminated? From being near a barbarian?”

“Oh no, Anjin-san, only because she had failed in her duty to you,” Mariko said at once. “She is your consort now—Lord Toranaga ordered it and she agreed. You’re master of a house now.”

“Am I?”

“Oh, yes, believe me, Anjin-san, you have privileges. And as a hatamoto you’re blessed. And well off. Lord Toranaga’s given you a salary of twenty koku a month. For that amount of money a samurai would normally have to provide his lord with himself and two other samurai, armed, fed, and mounted for the whole year, and of course pay for their families as well. But you don’t have to do that. I beg you, consider Fujiko as a person, Anjin-san. I beg you to be filled with Christian charity. She’s a good woman. Forgive her her ugliness. She’ll be a worthy consort.”

“She hasn’t a home?”

“Yes. This is her home.” Mariko took hold of herself. “I beg you to accept her formally. She can help you greatly, teach you if you wish to learn. If you prefer, think of her as nothing—as this wooden
post or the shoji screen, or as a rock in your garden—anything you wish, but allow her to stay. If you won’t have her as consort, be merciful. Accept her and then, as head of the house, according to our law, kill her.”

“That’s the only answer you have, isn’t it? Kill!”

“No, Anjin-san. But life and death are the same thing. Who knows, perhaps you’ll do Fujiko a greater service by taking her life. It’s your right now before all the law.
Your
right. If you prefer to make her outcast, that too is your right.”

“So I’m trapped again,” Blackthorne said. “Either way she’s killed. If I don’t learn your language then a whole village is butchered. If I don’t do whatever you want, some innocent is always killed. There’s no way out.”

“There’s a very easy solution, Anjin-san. Die. You do not have to endure the unendurable.”

“Suicide’s crazy—and a mortal sin. I thought you were Christian.”

“I’ve said I am. But for you, Anjin-san, for you there are many ways of dying honorably without suicide. You sneered at my husband for not wanting to die fighting,
neh?
That’s not our custom, but apparently it’s yours. So why don’t you do that? You have a pistol. Kill Lord Yabu. You believe he’s a monster,
neh?
Even attempt to kill him and today you’ll be in heaven or hell.”

He looked at her, hating her serene features, seeing her loveliness through his hate. “It’s weak to die like that for no reason. Stupid’s a better word.”

“You say you’re Christian. So you believe in the Jesus child—in God—and in heaven. Death shouldn’t frighten you. As to ‘no reason,’ it is up to you to judge the value or nonvalue. You may have reason enough to die.”

“I’m in your power. You know it. So do I.”

Mariko leaned over and touched him compassionately. “Anjin-san, forget the village. A thousand million things can happen before those six months occur. A tidal wave or earthquake, or you get your ship and sail away, or Yabu dies, or we all die, or who knows? Leave the problems of God to God and
karma
to
karma
. Today you’re here and nothing you can do will change that. Today you’re alive and here and honored, and blessed with good fortune. Look at this sunset, it’s beautiful,
neh?
This sunset exists. Tomorrow does not exist. There is only
now
. Please look. It is so beautiful and it will never happen
ever again, never, not
this
sunset, never in all infinity. Lose yourself in it, make yourself one with nature and do not worry about
karma
, yours, mine, or that of the village.”

He found himself beguiled by her serenity, and by her words. He looked westward. Great splashes of purple-red and black were spreading across the sky.

He watched the sun until it vanished.

“I wish you were to be consort,” he said.

“I belong to Lord Buntaro and until he is dead I cannot think or say what might be thought or said.”

Karma
, thought Blackthorne.

Do I accept
karma?
Mine? Hers? Theirs?

The night’s beautiful.

And so is she and she belongs to another.

Yes, she’s beautiful. And very wise: Leave the problems of God to God and
karma
to
karma
. You did come here uninvited. You are here. You are in their power.

But what’s the answer?

The answer will come, he told himself. Because there’s a God in heaven, a God somewhere.

He heard the tread of feet. Some flares were approaching up the hill. Twenty samurai, Omi at their head.

“I’m sorry, Anjin-san, but Omi-san orders you to give him your pistols.”

“Tell him to go to hell!”

“I can’t, Anjin-san. I dare not.”

Blackthorne kept one hand loosely on the pistol hilt, his eyes on Omi. He had deliberately remained seated on the veranda steps. Ten samurai were within the garden behind Omi, the rest near the waiting palanquin. As soon as Omi had entered uninvited, Fujiko had come from the interior of the house and now stood on the veranda, white-faced, behind Blackthorne. “Lord Toranaga never objected and for days I’ve been armed around him and Yabu-san.”

Mariko said nervously, “Yes, Anjin-san, but please understand, what Omi-san says is true. It’s our custom that you cannot go into a
daimyo’s
presence with arms. There’s nothing to be af—nothing to concern you. Yabu-san’s your friend. You’re his guest here.”

“Tell Omi-san I won’t give him my guns.” Then, when she remained
silent, Blackthorne’s temper snapped and he shook his head. “
Iyé
, Omi-san!
Wakarimasu ka? Iyé!”

Omi’s face tightened. He snarled an order. Two samurai moved forward. Blackthorne whipped out the guns. The samurai stopped. Both guns were pointed directly into Omi’s face.

“
Iyé!”
Blackthorne said. And then, to Mariko, “Tell him to call them off or I’ll pull the triggers.”

She did so. No one moved. Blackthorne got slowly to his feet, the pistols never wavering from their target. Omi was absolutely still, fearless, his eyes following Blackthorne’s catlike movements.

“Please, Anjin-san. This is very dangerous. You must see Lord Yabu. You may not go with pistols. You’re hatamoto, you’re protected and you’re also Lord Yabu’s guest.”

“Tell Omi-san if he or any of his men come within ten feet of me I’ll blow his head off.”

“Omi-san says politely, ‘For the last time you are ordered to give me the guns. Now.’”

“
Iyé.”

“Why not leave them here, Anjin-san? There’s nothing to fear. No one will touch—”

“You think I’m a fool?”

“Then give them to Fujiko-san!”

“What can she do? He’ll take them from her—anyone’ll take them—then I’m defenseless.”

Mariko’s voice sharpened. “Why don’t you listen, Anjin-san? Fujiko-san is your consort. If you order it she’ll protect the guns with her life. That’s her duty. I’ll never tell you again, but Toda-noh-Usagi Fujiko is samurai.”