Shogun

were soaked but the rain was warm and it ran off them.

“Yes,” Omi said. “Kiku-san is very pretty,” and followed it with a torrent of words Blackthorne did not fathom.

“No words enough now, Omi-san—not enough to speak clear now,” Blackthorne said. “Later yes. Not now. Understand?”

Omi seemed not to hear. Then he said, “There’s plenty of time, Anjin-san, plenty of time to talk about her, and about you and me and karma. But I agree, now is not the time, neh?”

“Think understand. Yes. Yesterday not know Omi-san and Kiku-san good friends,” he said, pressing the attack.

“She’s not my property.”

“Now know you and her very friends. Now—”

“Now leave. This matter is closed. The woman is nothing. Nothing.”

Stubbornly Blackthorne stayed where he was. “Next time I—”

“This conversation is over! Didn’t you hear? Finished!”

“Iye! Iye, by God!”

Omi’s hand went for his sword. Blackthorne leaped back two paces without realizing it. But Omi did not draw his sword and Blackthorne did not pull out his pistol. Both men readied, though neither wanted to begin. “What do you want to say, Anjin-san?”

“Next time, first I ask—about Kiku-san. If Omi-san say yes—yes. If no—no! Understand? Friend to friend, neh?”

Omi relaxed his sword hand slightly. “I repeat—she’s not my property. Thank you for showing me this place, Anjin-san. Good-by.”

“Friend?”

“Of course.” Omi walked over to Blackthorne’s horse and held the bridle. Blackthorne swung into the saddle.

He looked down at Omi. If he could have got away with it he knew he would have blown the samurai’s head off right now. That would be his safest course. “Good-by, Omi-san, and thank you.”

“Good-by, Anjin-san.” Omi watched Blackthorne ride off and did not turn his back until he was over the rise. He marked the exact place in the crevasse with some stones and then, in turmoil, squatted on his haunches to wait, oblivious of the deluge.

Soon Mura and the peasants arrived, bespattered with mud.

“Toranaga-sama fell into the crevasse exactly at this point, Mura. His swords are buried here. Bring them to me before sunset.”

“Yes, Omi-sama.”

“If you’d had any brains, if you were interested in me, your liege Lord, you would have done it already.”

“Please excuse my stupidity.”

Omi rode off. They watched him briefly, then spread themselves out in a circle around the stones, and began to dig.

Mura dropped his voice. “Uo, you’ll go with the baggage train.”

“Yes, Mura-san. But how?”

“I’ll offer you to the Anjin-san. He won’t know any different.”

“But his consort, oh ko, she will,” Uo whispered back.

“She’s not going with him. I hear her burns are bad. She’s to go by ship to Yedo later. You know what to do?”

“Seek out the Holy Father privately, answer any questions.”

“Yes.” Mura relaxed and began to talk normally. “You can go with the Anjin-san, Uo, he’ll pay well. Make yourself useful, but not too useful or he’ll take you all the way to Yedo.”

Uo laughed. “Hey, I hear Yedo’s so rich everyone pisses into silver pots—even eta. And the women have skins like sea foam with no pubics at all.”

“Is that true, Mura-san?” another villager asked. “They’ve no short hair?”

“Yedo was just a stinking little fishing village, nothing as good as Anjiro, when I was there the first time,” Mura told them, without stopping digging. “That was with Toranaga-sama when we were all hunting down the Beppu. We took more than three thousand heads between us. As to pubics, all the girls I’ve known had them, except one from Korea, but she said she’d had them plucked, one by one.”

“What some women will do to attract us, heh?” someone said.

“Yes. But I’d like to see that,” Ninjin said toothlessly. “Yes, I’d like to see a Jade Gate without a bush.”

“I’d gamble a boatload of fish against a bucket of shit that it hurt to pull out those hairs.” Uo whistled.

“When I’m a kami I’m going to inhabit Kiku-san’s Heavenly Pavilion! They say she was born perfumed and hairless!”

Amid laughter, Uo asked, “Did it make any difference, Mura-san, to attack the Jade Gate without the bush?”

“It was the nearest I ever got. Eeeeh! I got closer and deeper than ever before and that’s important, neh? So I know it’s always better for the girl to take off the bush though some are superstitious about it and some complain of the itch. It’s still closer for you and so closer for her—and getting close makes all the difference, neh?” They laughed and put their backs into the digging. The pit grew under the rain.

“I’ll wager the Anjin-san got plenty close last night for her to stand at the gateway like that! Eeee, what wouldn’t I give to have been him.” Uo wiped the sweat off his brow. Like all of them he wore only a loincloth and a bamboo, conical hat, and was barefoot.

“Eeee! I was there, Uo, in the square, and I saw it all. I saw her smile and I felt it down through my Fruit and into my toes.”

“Yes,” another said. “I have to admit just her smile made me stiff as an oar.”

“But not as big as the Anjin-san, eh, Mura-san?” Uo chuckled. “Go on, please tell us the story again.”

Happily Mura obliged and told about the first night and the bath house. His story had improved in the many tellings, but none of them minded.

“Oh, to be so vast!” Uo mimed carrying a giant erection before him, and laughed so much he slipped in the mud.

“Who’d have thought the barbarian stranger’d ever get from the pit to paradise?” Mura leaned on his shovel a moment, collecting his breath. “I’d never have believed it—like an ancient legend. Karma, neh? ”

“Perhaps he was one of us—in a previous life—and he’s come back with the same mind but a different skin.”

Ninjin nodded. “That’s possible. Must be—because from what the Holy Father said I thought he’d be burning in the Devil’s Hell Furnace long since. Didn’t the Father say he’d put a special curse on him? I heard him bring down the vengeance of the great Jesus kami himself on the Anjin-san and, oh ko, even I was very frightened.” He crossed himself and the others hardly noticed. “But the Jesus Christ Madonna God punishes His enemies very strangely if you ask me.”

Uo said, “Well, I’m not a Christian, as well you know, but, so sorry, it seems to me the Anjin-san’s a good man, please excuse me, and better than the Christian Father who stank and cursed and frightened everyone. And he’s been good to us, neh? He treats his people well—some say he’s Lord Toranaga’s friend, must be with all his honors, neh? And don’t forget Kiku-san honored him with her Golden Gully.”

“It’s golden all right. I heard the night cost him five koban!”

“Fifteen koku for one night?” Ninjin spluttered. “Eeeeeee, how lucky the Anjin-san is! His karma’s vast for an enemy of God the Father, Son, and Madonna.”

Mura said, “He paid one koban—three koku. But if you think that’s a lot?.?.?.” He stopped and looked around conspiratorially to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, though of course in this rain he knew there would be none—and even if there were, what did that matter?