Shogun

You’d be the first to die, Eminence.

“You stay here, Michael,” dell’Aqua said. Then he glanced toward the Portuguese frigate. His face hardened and he set off.

Blackthorne hesitated. Michael and the surrounding samurai were watching him oddly.

“Sayonara, Anjin-san,” Michael said. “Go with God.”

Blackthorne nodded briefly and started to walk through the samurai, waiting for them to fall on him to take away his swords. But they let him through unmolested. He stopped and looked back, his heart racing.

For a moment he was tempted to draw his sword and charge. But there was no escape that way. They wouldn’t fight him. Many had spears so they would catch him and disarm him, and bind him and hand him on. I won’t go bound, he promised himself. His only path was forward and there his swords were helpless against guns. He would charge the guns but they would just maim him in the knees and bind him.?.?.?.

“Captain Blackthorne, come along,” dell’Aqua called out.

“Yes, just a moment please.” Blackthorne beckoned Michael. “Listen, Brother, down by the beach you said I was a worthy samurai. Did you mean it?”

“Yes, Anjin-san. That and everything.”

“Then I beg a favor, as a samurai,” he said quietly but urgently.

“What favor?”

“To die as a samurai.”

“Your death isn’t in my hands. It’s in the Hand of God, Anjin-san.”

“Yes. But I ask that favor of you.” Blackthorne waved at the distant stake. “That’s no way. That’s filthy.”

Perplexed, Michael peered toward the lorcha. Then he saw the stake for the first time. “Blessed Mother of God?.?.?.”

“Captain Blackthorne, please come along,” dell’Aqua called again.

Blackthorne said, more urgently, “Explain to the officer. He’s got enough samurai here to insist, neh? Explain to him. You’ve been to Europe. You know how it is there. It’s not much to ask, neh? Please, I’m samurai. One of them could be my second.”

“I .?.?. I will ask.” Michael went back to the officer and began to talk softly and urgently.

Blackthorne turned and centered his attention on the ship. He walked forward. Dell’Aqua waited till he was alongside and set off again.

Ahead, Blackthorne saw Ferriera strut off the poop, down along the main deck, pistols in his belt, rapier at his side. Rodrigues was watching him, right hand on the butt of a long-barreled dueling piece. Pesaro and ten seamen were already on the jetty, leaning on bayoneted muskets. And the long shadow of the stake reached out toward him.

Oh, God, for a brace of pistols and ten jolly Jack Tars and one cannon, he thought, as the gap closed inexorably. Oh, God, let me not be shamed.?.?.?.

“Good evening, Eminence,” Ferriera said, his eyes seeing only Blackthorne. “So, Inge—”

“Good evening, Captain-General.” Dell’Aqua pointed angrily at the stake. “Is this your idea?”

“Yes, Eminence.”

“Go back aboard your ship!”

“This is a military decision.”

“Go aboard your ship!”

“No! Pesaro!” At once the bosun and the bayoneted shore party came on guard and advanced toward Blackthorne. Ferriera slid out the pistol. “So, Ingeles, we meet again.”

“That’s something that pleases me not at all.” Blackthorne’s sword came out of its scabbard. He held it awkwardly with two hands, the broken haft hurting him.

“Tonight you will be pleased in hell,” Ferriera said thickly.

“If you had any courage you’d fight—man to man. But you’re not a man, you’re a coward, a Spanish coward without balls.”

“Disarm him!” Ferriera ordered.

At once the ten men went forward, bayonets leveled. Blackthorne backed away but he was surrounded. Bayonets stabbed for his legs and he slashed at an assailant, but as the man retreated another attacked from behind. Then dell’Aqua came to his senses and shouted, “Put down your guns! Before God, I order you to stop!”

The seamen were flustered. All muskets were zeroed in on Blackthorne, who stood helplessly at bay, sword high.

“Get back, all of you,” dell’Aqua called out. “Get back! Before God, get back! Are you animals?”

Ferriera said, “I want that man!”

“I know, and I’ve already told you you can’t have him! Yesterday and today! Are you deaf? God give me patience! Order your men aboard!”

“I order you to turn around and go away!”

“You order me?”

“Yes, I order you! I’m Captain-General, Governor of Macao, Chief Officer of Portugal in Asia, and that man’s a threat to the State, the Church, the Black Ship, and Macao!”

“Before God, I’ll excommunicate you and all your crew if this man’s harmed. You hear?” Dell’Aqua spun on the musketeers, who backed off, frightened. Except Pesaro. Pesaro stood his ground defiantly, his pistol loose in his hand, waiting for Ferriera’s order. “Get on that ship and out of the way!”

“You’re making a mistake,” Ferriera stormed. “He’s a threat! I’m Military Commander in Asia and I say—”

“This is a Church matter, not a military de—”

Blackthorne was dazed, hardly able to think or to see, his head once more exploding with pain. Everything had happened so fast, one moment guarded, the next not, one moment betrayed to the Inquisition, the next escaped, then to be betrayed again and now defended by the Chief Inquisitor. Nothing made sense.

Ferriera was shouting, “I caution you again! As God’s my judge, you’re making a mistake and I’ll inform Lisbon!”

“Meanwhile order your men aboard or I’ll remove you as Captain-General of the Black Ship!”

“You don’t have that power!”

“Unless you order your men aboard and order the Ingeles unharmed at once, I declare you excommunicated—and any man who serves under you, in any command, excommunicated, and curse you and all who serve you, in the Name of God!”

“By the Madonna—” Ferriera stopped. He was not afraid for himself but now his Black Ship was jeopardized and he knew most of his crew would desert him unless he obeyed. For a moment he contemplated shooting the priest, but that would not take away the curse. So he conceded. “Very well—back aboard, everyone! Stand down!”

Obediently the men scattered, glad to be away from the priest’s wrath. Blackthorne was still bewildered, half wondering if his head was tricking him. Then, in the melee, Pesaro’s hatred burst. He aimed. Dell’Aqua saw the covert movement and leaped forward to protect Blackthorne with his own bulk. Pesaro pulled the trigger but at that moment arrows impaled him, the pistol fired harmlessly, and he collapsed screaming.

Blackthorne spun around and saw six Kiyama archers, fresh arrows already in their bows. Standing near them was Michael. The officer spoke harshly. Pesaro gave a last shriek, his limbs contorted, and he died.

Michael trembled as he broke the silence. “The officer says, so sorry, but he was afraid for the Father- Visitor’s life.” Michael was begging God to forgive him for giving the signal to fire. But Pesaro had been warned, he reasoned. And it is my duty to see the Father-Visitor’s orders are obeyed, that his life is protected, that assassins are stamped out and no one excommunicated.

Dell’Aqua was on his knees beside the corpse of Pesaro. He made the sign of the cross and said the sacred words. The Portuguese around him were watching the samurai, craving the order to kill the murderers. The rest of Kiyama’s men were hastening from the Mission gate where they had remained, and a number of Grays were streaming back from the galley area to investigate. Through his almost blinding rage Ferriera knew he could not afford a fight here and now. “Everyone back aboard! Bring Pesaro’s body!” Sullenly the shore party began to