Shogun

“Now, Captain-Pilot, we will begin. You will please listen to everything that Lord Toranaga says, without interruption,” Father Alvito began. “Then you will answer. From now on I will be translating what you say almost simultaneously, so please answer with great care.”

“What’s the point? I don’t trust you!”

Immediately Father Alvito was translating what he had said to Toranaga, who darkened perceptibly.

Be careful, thought Blackthorne, he’s playing you like a fish! Three golden guineas to a chewed farthing he can land you whenever he wants. Whether or not he translates accurately, you’ve got to create the correct impression on Toranaga. This may be the only chance you’ll ever have.

“You can trust me to translate exactly what you say as best I can.” The priest’s voice was gentle, in complete command. “This is the court of Lord Toranaga. I am the official interpreter to the Council of Regents, to General Lord Toranaga and to General Lord Ishido. Lord Toranaga has favored me with his confidence for many years. I suggest you answer truthfully because I can assure you he is a most discerning man. Also I should point out that I am not Father Sebastio, who is, perhaps, overzealous and does not, unfortunately, speak Japanese very well, or, unfortunately, have much experience in Japan. Your sudden presence took away God’s grace from him and, regrettably, he allowed his personal past to overwhelm him—his parents and brothers and sisters were massacred in the most horrible way in the Netherlands by your—by forces of the Prince of Orange. I ask your indulgence for him and your compassion.” He smiled benignly. “The Japanese word for ‘enemy’ is ‘teki.’ You may use it if you wish. If you point at me and use the word, Lord Toranaga will understand clearly what you mean. Yes, I am your enemy, Captain-Pilot John Blackthorne. Completely. But not your assassin. That you will do yourself.”

Blackthorne saw him explain to Toranaga what he had said and heard the word “teki” used several times and he wondered if it truly meant “enemy.” Of course it does, he told himself. This man’s not like the other one.

“Please, for a moment, forget that I exist,” Father Alvito said. “I’m merely an instrument for making your answers known to Lord Toranaga, exactly as I will put his questions to you.” Father Alvito settled himself, turned to Toranaga, bowed politely.

Toranaga spoke curtly. The priest began translating simultaneously, a few words or so later, his voice an uncanny mirror of inflection and inner meaning.

“Why are you an enemy of Tsukku-san, my friend and interpreter, who’s an enemy of no one?” Father Alvito added by way of explanation, “Tsukku-san’s my nickname as Japanese cannot pronounce my name either. They have no ‘l’ or ‘th’ sounds in their language. Tsukku’s a pun on the Japanese word ‘tsuyaku’—to interpret. Please answer the question.”

“We’re enemies because our countries are at war.”

“Oh? What is your country?”

“England.”

“Where’s that?”

“It’s an island kingdom, a thousand miles north of Portugal. Portugal’s part of a peninsula in Europe.”

“How long have you been at war with Portugal?”

“Ever since Portugal became a vassal state of Spain. That was in 1580, twenty years ago. Spain conquered Portugal. We’re really at war with Spain. We’ve been at war with Spain for almost thirty years.”

Blackthorne noticed Toranaga’s surprise and his searching glance at Father Alvito, who stared serenely into the distance.

“You say Portugal’s part of Spain?”

“Yes, Lord Toranaga. A vassal state. Spain conquered Portugal and now they’re in effect the same country with the same king. But the Portuguese are subservient to Spain in most parts of the world and their leaders treated as unimportant in the Spanish Empire.”

There was a long silence. Then Toranaga spoke directly to the Jesuit, who smiled and answered at length.

“What did he say?” Blackthorne asked sharply.

Father Alvito did not answer but translated as before, almost simultaneously, aping his inflection, continuing a virtuoso performance of interpreting.

Toranaga answered Blackthorne directly, his voice flinty and cruel. “What I said is no concern of yours. When I wish you to know something I will tell you.”

“I’m sorry, Lord Toranaga, I did not mean to be rude. May I tell you that we come in peace—”

“You may not tell me anything at the moment. You will hold your tongue until I require an answer. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Mistake number one. Watch yourself. You can’t make mistakes, he told himself.

“Why are you at war with Spain? And Portugal?”

“Partially because Spain is bent on conquering the world and we English, and our allies the Netherlands, refuse to be conquered. And partially because of our religions.”

“Ah! A religious war? What is your religion?”

“I’m a Christian. Our Church—”

“The Portuguese and Spanish are Christians! You said your religion was different. What is your religion?”

“It’s Christian. It’s difficult to explain simply and quickly, Lord Toranaga. They’re both—”

“There’s no need to be quick, Mr. Pilot, just accurate. I have plenty of time. I’m very patient. You’re a cultured man—obviously no peasant—so you can be simple or complicated as you wish, just so long as you’re clear. If you stray from the point I will bring you back. You were saying?”

“My religion is Christian. There are two main Christian religions, Protestant and Catholic. Most English are Protestant.”

“You worship the same God, the Madonna and Child?”

“No, Sire. Not the way the Catholics do.” What does he want to know? Blackthorne was asking himself. Is he a Catholic? Should you answer what you think he wants to know, or what you think is the truth? Is he anti- Christian? Didn’t he call the Jesuit “my friend”? Is Toranaga a Catholic sympathizer, or is he going to become a Catholic?

“Do you believe the Jesus is God?”

“I believe in God,” he said carefully.

“Do not evade a direct question! Do you believe the Jesus is God? Yes or no?”

Blackthorne knew that in any Catholic court in the world he would have been damned long since for heresy. And in most, if not all, Protestant courts. Even to hesitate before answering such a question was an admission of doubt. Doubt was heresy. “You can’t answer questions about God with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ There have to be shades of ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ You don’t know for certain about God until you’re dead. Yes, I believe Jesus was God, but no, I don’t know for certain until I’m dead.”

“Why did you smash the priest’s cross when you first arrived in Japan?”

Blackthorne had not been expecting this question. Does Toranaga know everything that’s happened since I arrived? “I—I wanted to show the daimyo Yabu that the Jesuit, Father Sebastio—the only interpreter there—that he was my enemy, that he wasn’t to be trusted, at least, in my opinion. Because I was sure he wouldn’t necessarily translate accurately, not as Father Alvito is doing now. He accused us of being pirates, for instance. We’re not pirates, we come in peace.”

“Ah yes! Pirates. I’ll come back to piracy in a moment. You say both your sects are Christian, both venerate Jesus the Christ? Isn’t the essence of his teaching ‘to love one another’?”

“Yes.”

“Then how can you be enemies?”

“Their faith—their version of Christianity is a false interpretation of the Scriptures.”

“Ah! At last we’re getting somewhere. So you’re at war through a difference of opinion about what is God or not God?”

“Yes.”