Shogun

“No. But it could be. I believe nothing happens without His knowledge.”

“Even after we’re dead we still may never know about God.” Then Toranaga added abruptly, “I hear the Father-Visitor’s left Osaka,” and was pleased to see a shadow cross the Tsukku-san’s face. The news had come the day they’d left Mishima.

“Yes,” the priest was saying, his apprehension increasing. “He’s gone to Nagasaki, Sire.”

“To conduct a special burial for Toda Mariko-sama?”

“Yes. Ah, Sire, you know so much. We’re all clay on the potter’s wheel you spin.”

“That’s not true. And I don’t like idle flattery. Have you forgotten?”

“No, Sire, please excuse me. It wasn’t meant to be.” Alvito became even more on guard, almost wilting. “You’re opposed to the service, Sire?”

“It doesn’t matter to me. She was a very special person and her example merits honor.”

“Yes, Sire. Thank you. The Father-Visitor will be very pleased. But he thinks it matters quite a lot.”

“Of course. Because she was my vassal and a Christian her example won’t go unnoticed—by other Christians. Or by those considering conversion. Neh?”

“I would say it will not go unnoticed. Why should it? On the contrary she merits great praise for her self- sacrifice.”

“In giving her life that others might live?” Toranaga asked cryptically, not mentioning seppuku or suicide.

“Yes.”

Toranaga smiled to himself, noticing that Tsukku-san had never once mentioned the other girl, Kiyama Achiko, her bravery or death or burial, also with great pomp and ceremony. He hardened his voice. “And you know of no one who ordered or assisted in the sabotage of my ship?”

“No, Sire. Other than by prayer.”

“I hear your church building in Yedo is going well.”

“Yes, Sire. Again thank you.”

“Well, Tsukku-san, I hope the labors of the High Priest of the Christians will bear fruit soon. I need more than hope and I’ve a very long memory. Now, please, I require your services as interpreter.” Instantly he sensed the priest’s antagonism. “You have nothing to fear.”

“Oh, Sire, I’m not afraid of him, please excuse me, I just don’t want to be near him.”

Toranaga got up. “I require you to respect the Anjin-san. His bravery is unquestioned and he saved Mariko- sama’s life many times. Also he’s understandably almost berserk at the moment—the loss of his ship, neh?”

“Yes, yes, so sorry.”

Toranaga led the way toward the shore, guards with flares lighting their way. “When do I have your High Priest’s report on the gun-running incident?”

“As soon as he gets all the information from Macao.”

“Please ask him to speed his inquiries.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Who were the Christian daimyos concerned?”

“I don’t know, so sorry, or even if any were involved.”

“A pity you don’t know, Tsukku-san. That would save me a lot of time. There are more than a few daimyos who would be interested to know the truth of that.”

Ah, Tsukku-san, Toranaga thought, but you do know and I could press you into a corner now and, while you would twist and thrash around like a cornered snake, at length I’d order you to swear by your Christian God, and then if you did you would have to say: “Kiyama, Onoshi, and probably Harima.” But the time’s not ready. Yet. Nor ready for you to know I believe you Christians had nothing to do with the sabotage. Nor did Kiyama, or Harima, or even Onoshi. In fact, I’m sure. But it still wasn’t an Act of God. It was an Act of Toranaga.

Yes.

But why? you might ask.

Kiyama wisely refused the offer in my letter that Mariko gave him. He had to be given proof of my sincerity. What else could I give but the ship—and the barbarian—that terrified you Christians? I expected to lose both, though I only gave one. Today in Osaka, intermediaries will tell Kiyama and the chief of your priests this is a free gift from me to them, proof of my sincerity: that I am not opposed to the Church, only Ishido. It is proof, neh?

Yes, but can you ever trust Kiyama? you will ask quite rightly.

No. But Kiyama is Japanese first and Christian second. You always forget that. Kiyama will understand my sincerity. The gift of the ship was absolute, like Mariko’s example and the Anjin-san’s bravery.

And how did I sabotage the ship? you might want to know.

What does that matter to you, Tsukku-san? It is enough that I did. And no one the wiser, except me, a few trusted men, and the arsonist. Him? Ishido used ninja, why shouldn’t I? But I hired one man and succeeded. Ishido failed.

“Stupid to fail,” he said aloud.

“Sire?” Alvito asked.

“Stupid to fail to bottle up such an incendiary secret as smuggled muskets,” he said gruffly, “and to incite Christian daimyos into rebellion against their liege lord, the Taiko. Neh? ”

“Yes, Sire. If it’s true.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s true, Tsukku-san.” Toranaga let the conversation lapse now that Tsukku-san was clearly agitated and ready to be a perfect interpreter.

They were down by the shore now and Toranaga led, sure-footed in the semidarkness, brushing his weariness aside. As they passed the heads on the shore he saw Tsukku-san cross himself in fear and he thought, how stupid to be so superstitious—and to be afraid of nothing.

The Anjin-san’s vassals were already on their feet, bowing, long before he arrived. The Anjin-san was not. The Anjin-san was still sitting staring bleakly out to sea.

“Anjin-san,” Toranaga called out gently.

“Yes, Sire?” Blackthorne came out of his reverie and got to his feet. “Sorry, you want talk now?”

“Yes. Please. I bring Tsukku-san because I want talk clearly. Understand? Quick and clear?”

“Yes.” Toranaga saw the fixity of the man’s eyes in the light of the flares and his utter exhaustion. He glanced at Tsukku-san. “Does he understand what I said?” He watched the priest talk, and listened to the evil- sounding language. The Anjin-san nodded, his accusatory gaze never faltering.

“Yes, Sire,” the priest said.

“Now interpret for me, please, Tsukku-san, as before. Everything exact: Listen, Anjin-san, I’ve brought Tsukku-san so we can talk directly and quickly without missing the meaning of any word. It’s so important to me that I ask your patience. I think it’s best this way.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Tsukku-san, first swear before your Christian God nothing he says will ever pass your lips to another. Like a confessional. Neh? As sacred! To me and to him.”

“But Sire, this isn’t—”

“This you will do. Now. Or I will withdraw all my support, forever, from you and your Church.”

“Very well, Sire. I agree. Before God.”

“Good. Thank you. Explain to him your agreement.” Alvito obeyed, then Toranaga settled himself on the sand dunes and waved his fan against the encroaching night bugs. “Now, please tell me, Anjin-san, what happened at Osaka.”

Blackthorne began haltingly, but gradually his mind began to relive it all and soon the words gushed and Father Alvito had difficulty in keeping up. Toranaga listened in silence, never interrupting the flow, just adding cautious encouragement when needed, the perfect listener.

Blackthorne finished at dawn. By then Toranaga knew everything there was to tell—everything the Anjin-san was prepared to tell, he corrected himself. The priest knew it also but Toranaga was sure there was nothing in it the Catholics or Kiyama could use against him or against Mariko or against the Anjin-san, who, by now, hardly