Shogun

“It is my honor. You are my guest.”

So he had served her. And now there was the ending.

In the silence, Mariko did not move for a moment, but stayed in her tranquillity, not wishing yet to acknowledge the ending or disturb the peace surrounding her. But she felt the growing strength of his eyes. The cha-no-yu was ended. Now life must begin again.

“You did it perfectly,” she whispered, her sadness overwhelming her. A tear slid from her eyes and the falling ripped the heart from his chest.

“No—no. Please excuse me .?.?. you are perfect .?.?. it was ordinary,” he said, startled by such unexpected praise.

“It was the best I’ve ever seen,” she said, moved by the stark honesty in his voice.

“No. No, please excuse me, if it was fair it was because of you, Mariko-san. It was only fair—you made it better.”

“For me it was flawless. Everything. How sad that others, more worthy than I, couldn’t have witnessed it also!” Her eyes glistened in the flickering light.

“You witnessed it. That is everything. It was only for you. Others wouldn’t have understood.”

She felt the hot tears now on her cheeks. Normally she would have been ashamed of them but now they did not trouble her. “Thank you, how can I thank you?”

He picked up a sprig of wild thyme and, his fingers trembling, leaned over and gently caught one of her tears. Silently he looked down at the tear and the branchlet dwarfed by his huge fist. “My work—any work—is inadequate against the beauty of this. Thank you.”

He watched the tear on the leaf. A piece of charcoal fell down the mountain and, without thinking, he picked up the tongs and replaced it. A few sparks danced into the air from the mountaintop and it became an erupting volcano.

Both drifted into a sweet melancholia, joined by the simplicity of the single tear, content together in the quiet, joined in humility, knowing that what had been given had been returned in purity.

Later he said, “If our duty did not forbid it, I would ask you to join me in death. Now.”

“I would go with you. Gladly,” she answered at once. “Let us go to death. Now.”

“We can’t. Our duty is to Lord Toranaga.”

She took out the stiletto that was in her obi and reverently placed it on the tatami. “Then please allow me to prepare the way.”

“No. That would be failing in our duty.”

“What is to be, will be. You and I cannot turn the scale.”

“Yes. But we may not go before our Master. Neither you nor I. He needs every trustworthy vassal for a little longer. Please excuse me, I must forbid it.”

“I would be pleased to go tonight. I’m prepared. More than that, I totally desire to go beyond. Yes. My soul is brimming with joy.” A hesitant smile. “Please excuse me for being selfish. You’re perfectly right about our duty.”

The razor-sharp blade glistened in the candlelight. They watched it, lost in contemplation. Then he broke the spell.

“Why Osaka, Mariko-san?”

“There are things to be done there which only I can do.”

His frown deepened as he watched the light from a guttering wick catch the tear and become refracted into a billion colors.

“What things?”

“Things that concern the future of our house which must be done by me.”

“In that case you must go.” He looked at her searchingly. “But you alone?”

“Yes. I wish to make sure all family arrangements are perfect between us and Lord Kiyama for Saruji’s marriage. Money and dowry and lands and so on. There’s his increased fief to formalize. Lord Hiro-matsu and Lord Toranaga require it done. I am responsible for the house.”

“Yes,” he said slowly, “that’s your duty.” His eyes held hers. “If Lord Toranaga says you can go, then go, but it’s not likely you’ll be permitted there. Even so .?.?. you must return quickly. Very quickly. It would be unwise to stay in Osaka a moment longer than necessary.”

“Yes.”

“By sea would be quicker than by road. But you’ve always hated the sea.”

“I still hate the sea.”

“Do you have to be there quickly?”

“I don’t think half a month or a month would matter. Perhaps, I don’t know. I just feel I should go at once.”

“Then we will leave the time and the matter of the going to Lord Toranaga—if he permits you to go at all. With Lord Zataki here, and the two scrolls, that can only mean war. It will be too dangerous to go.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Glad that that was now finished, he looked around the little room contentedly, unconcerned now that his ugly bulk dominated the space, each of his thighs broader than her waist, his arms thicker than her neck. “This has been a fine room, better than I’d dared to hope. I’ve enjoyed being here. I’m reminded again that a body’s nothing but a hut in the wilderness. Thank you for being here. I’m so glad you came to Yokose, Mariko-san. If it hadn’t been for you I would never have given a cha-no-yu here and never felt so one with eternity.”

She hesitated, then shyly picked up the T’ang cha caddy. It was a simple, covered jar without adornment. The orange-brown glaze had run just short, leaving an uneven rim of bare porcelain at the bottom, dramatizing the spontaneity of the potter and his unwillingness to disguise the simplicity of his materials. Buntaro had bought it from Sen-Nakada, the most famous cha-master who had ever lived, for twenty thousand koku. “It’s so beautiful,” she murmured, enjoying the touch of it. “So perfect for the ceremony.”

“Yes.”

“You were truly a master tonight, Buntaro-san. You gave me so much happiness.” Her voice was low and intent and she leaned forward a little. “Everything was perfect for me, the garden and how you used artistry to overcome the flaws with light and shadow. And this”—again she touched the cha caddy. “Everything perfect, even the character you’d written on the towel, ai—affection. For me tonight, affection was the perfect word.” Again tears spilled down her cheeks. “Please excuse me,” she said, brushing them away.

He bowed, embarrassed by such praise. To hide it he began to wrap the caddy in its silken sheaths. When he had finished, he set it into its box and placed it carefully in front of her. “Mariko-san, if our house has money problems, take this. Sell it.”

“Never!” It was the only possession, apart from his swords and longbow, that he prized in life. “That would be the last thing I would ever sell.”

“Please excuse me, but if pay for my vassals is a problem, take it.”

“There’s enough for all of them, with care. And the best weapons and the best horses. In that, our house is strong. No, Buntaro-san, the T’ang is yours.”

“We’ve not much time left to us. Who should I will it to? Saruji?”

She looked at the coals and the fire consuming the volcano, humbling it. “No. Not until he’s a worthy cha- master, equaling his father. I counsel you to leave the T’ang to Lord Toranaga, who’s worthy of it, and ask him before he dies to judge if our son will ever merit receiving it.”

“And if Lord Toranaga loses and dies before winter, as I’m certain he’ll lose?”

“What?”

“Here in this privacy I can tell you quietly that truth, without pretense. Isn’t an important part of the cha-no-yu to be without pretense? Yes, he will lose, unless he gets Kiyama and Onoshi—and Zataki.”

“In that case, set down in your will that the T’ang should be sent with a cortege to His Imperial Highness, petition him to accept it. Certainly the T’ang merits divinity.”

“Yes. That would be the perfect choice.” He studied the knife then added gloomily, “Ah, Mariko-san, there’s nothing to be done for Lord Toranaga. His karma’s written. He wins or he loses. And if he