Shogun

Blackthorne kept his temper when she told him what Toranaga had said. “Tell Lord Toranaga that his plan is no good for you, that you should stay here. If all’s well I can signal.”

“I can’t do that, Anjin-san, that’s not what our Master has ordered,” Mariko told him firmly. “Any plan he makes is bound to be very wise.”

Blackthorne realized there was no point in arguing. God curse their bloody-minded, mule-headed arrogance, he thought. But, by the Lord God, what courage they’ve got! The men and this woman.

He had watched her, standing at the ambush, in her hands the long killing sword that was almost as tall as herself, ready to fight to the death for Toranaga. He had seen her use the sword once, expertly, and though Buntaro had killed the attacker, she had made it easier by forcing the man to back off. There was still blood on her kimono now and it was torn in places and her face was dirty.

“Where did you learn to use a sword?” he had asked while they rushed for the docks.

“You should know that all samurai ladies are taught very early to use a knife to defend their honor and that of their lords,” she had said matter-of-factly, and showed him how the stiletto was kept safe in the obi, ready for instant use. “But some of us, a few, are also taught about sword and spear, Anjin-san. Some fathers feel daughters as well as sons must be prepared to do battle for their lords. Of course, some women are more warlike than others and enjoy going into battle with their husbands or fathers. My mother was one of these. My father and mother decided I should know the sword and the spear.”

“If it hadn’t been for the captain of the Grays being in the way, the first arrow would have gone right through you,” he had said.

“Through you, Anjin-san,” she corrected him, very sure. “But you did save my life by pulling me to safety.”

Now, looking at her, he knew that he would not like anything to happen to her. “Let me go with the samurai, Mariko-san. You stay here. Please.”

“That’s not possible, Anjin-san.”

“Then I want a knife. Better, give me two.”

She passed this request to Toranaga, who agreed. Blackthorne slid one under the sash, inside his kimono. The other he tied, haft downwards, to the inside of his forearm with a strip of silk he tore off the hem of his kimono.

“My Master asks do all Englishmen carry knives secretly in their sleeves like that?”

“No. But most seamen do.”

“That’s not usual here—or with the Portuguese,” she said.

“The best place for a spare knife’s in your boot. Then you can do wicked damage, very fast. If need be.”

She translated this and Blackthorne noticed the attentive eyes of Toranaga and Yabu, and he sensed that they did not like him armed. Good, he thought. Perhaps I can stay armed.

He wondered again about Toranaga. After the ambush had been beaten off and the Grays killed, Toranaga had, through Mariko, thanked him before all the Browns for his “loyalty.” Nothing more, no promises, no agreements, no rewards. But Blackthorne knew that those would come later. The old monk had told him that loyalty was the only thing they rewarded. ‘Loyalty and duty, senor,’ he had said. ‘It is their cult, this bushido. Where we give our lives to God and His Blessed Son Jesus, and Mary the Mother of God, these animals give themselves to their masters and die like dogs. Remember, senor, for thy soul’s sake, they’re animals.’

They’re not animals, Blackthorne thought. And much of what you said, Father, is wrong and a fanatic’s exaggeration.

He said to Mariko, “We need a signal—if the ship’s safe or if it isn’t.”

Again she translated, innocently this time. “Lord Toranaga says that one of our soldiers will do that.”

“I don’t consider it brave to send a woman to do a man’s job.”

“Please be patient with us, Anjin-san. There’s no difference between men and women. Women are equal as samurai. In this plan a woman would be so much better than a man.”

Toranaga spoke to her shortly.

“Are you ready, Anjin-san? We’re to go now.”

“The plan’s rotten and dangerous and I’m tired of being a goddamned sacrificial plucked duck, but I’m ready.”

She laughed, bowed once to Toranaga, and ran off. Blackthorne and the six samurai raced after her.

She was very fleet and he did not catch up with her as they rounded the corner and headed across the open space. He had never felt so naked. The moment they appeared, the Grays spotted them and surged forward. Soon they were surrounded, Mariko jabbering feverishly with the samurai and the Grays. Then he too added to the babel in a panting mixture of Portuguese, English, and Dutch, motioning them to hurry, and groped for the gangway to lean against it, not needing to pretend that he was badly winded. He tried to see inside the ship but could make out nothing distinctly, only many heads appearing at the gunwale. He could see the shaven pates of many samurai and many seamen. He could not discern the color of the kimonos.

From behind, one of the Grays was talking rapidly to him, and he turned around, telling him that he didn’t understand—to go there, quickly, back up the street where the God-cursed battle was going on. “Wakarimasu ka? Get your scuttle-tailed arse to hell out of here! Wakarimasu ka? The fight’s there!”

Mariko was frantically haranguing the senior officer of the Grays. The officer came back toward the ship and shouted orders. Immediately more than a hundred samurai, all Grays, began pouring off the ship. He sent a few north along the shore to intercept the wounded and help them if necessary. One was sent scurrying off to get help from the Grays near the Portuguese galley. Leaving ten men behind to guard the gangway, he led the remainder in a rush for the street which curled away from the dock, up to the city proper.

Mariko came up to Blackthorne. “Does the ship seem all right to you?” she asked.

“She’s floating.” With a great effort Blackthorne grasped the gangway ropes and pulled himself on deck. Mariko followed. Two Browns came after her.

The seamen packing the port gunwale gave way. Four Grays were guarding the quarterdeck and two more were on the forepoop. All were armed with bows and arrows as well as swords.

Mariko questioned one of the sailors. The man answered her obligingly. “They’re all sailors hired to take Kiritsubo-san to Yedo,” she told Blackthorne.

“Ask him?.?.?.” Blackthorne stopped as he recognized the short, squat mate he had made captain of the galley after the storm. “Konbanwa, Captain-san!”—Good evening.

“Konbanwa, Anjin-san. Watashi iye Captain-san ima,” the mate replied with a grin, shaking his head. He pointed at a lithe sailor with an iron-gray stubbly queue who stood alone on the quarterdeck. “Imasu Captain-san!”

“Ah, so desu? Halloa, Captain-san!” Blackthorne called out and bowed, and lowered his voice. “Mariko-san, find out if there are any Grays below.”

Before she could say anything the captain had bowed back and shouted to the mate. The mate nodded and replied at length. Some of the sailors also voiced their agreement. The captain and all aboard were very impressed.

“Ah, so desu, Anjin-san!” Then the captain cried out, “Keirei! ”—Salute! All aboard, except the samurai, bowed to Blackthorne in salute.

Mariko said, “This mate told the captain that you saved the ship during the storm, Anjin-san. You did not tell us about the storm or your voyage.”

“There’s little to tell. It was just another storm. Please thank the captain and say I’m happy to be aboard again. Ask him if we’re ready to leave when the others arrive.” And added quietly, “Find out if there are any more Grays below.”

She did as she was ordered.

The captain came over and she asked for more information and then, picking up the captain’s cue concerning the importance of Blackthorne aboard, she bowed to Blackthorne. “Anjin-san, he thanks you for the life of his ship and says they’re ready,” adding softly, “About the other, he doesn’t know.”

Blackthorne glanced ashore. There was no sign of Buntaro or the column to the north. The samurai sent running southward toward the Santa Theresa was still a hundred yards from his