Shogun

do you know about Lord Onoshi’s treachery yet? Do you know that Ishido has offered me Ikawa Jikkyu’s head and province if I secretly join him now?

Why did you pick today to send for me? Which good kami put me here to save the Anjin-san’s life, only to taunt me because I can’t talk directly to him, or even through someone else, to find the key to your secret lock? Why did you put him into prison for execution? Why did Ishido want him out of prison? Why did the bandits try to capture him for ransom? Ransom from whom? And why is the Anjin-san still alive? That bandit should have easily cut him in half.

Yabu noticed the deeply etched lines that had not been in Blackthorne’s face the first time he had seen him. He looks starved, thought Yabu. He’s like a wild dog. But not one of the pack, the leader of the pack, neh?

Oh yes, Pilot, I’d give a thousand koku for a trustworthy interpreter right now.

I’m going to be your master. You’re going to build my ships and train my men. I have to manipulate Toranaga somehow. If I can’t, it doesn’t matter. In my next life I’ll be better prepared.

“Good dog!” Yabu said aloud to Blackthorne and smiled slightly. “All you need is a firm hand, a few bones, and a few whippings. First I’ll deliver you to Lord Toranaga—after you’ve been bathed. You stink, Lord Pilot!”

Blackthorne did not understand the words, but he sensed friendliness in them and saw Yabu’s smile. He smiled back. “Wakarimasen”—I don’t understand.

“Hai, Anjin-san.”

The daimyo turned away and glanced after the bandits. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. Instantly all the Browns returned to him. The chief samurai of the Grays was standing in the center of the track and he too called off the chase. None of the bandits were brought back.

When this captain of the Grays came up to Yabu there was much argument and pointing to the city and to the castle, and obvious disagreement between them.

At length Yabu overrode him, his hand on his sword, and motioned Blackthorne to get into the palanquin.

“Iye,” the captain said.

The two men were beginning to square up to one another and the Grays and the Browns shifted nervously.

“Anjin-san desu shujin Toranaga-sama?.?.?.”

Blackthorne caught a word here, another there. Watakushi meant “I,” hitachi added meant “we,” shujin meant “prisoner.” And then he remembered what Rodrigues had said, so he shook his head and interrupted sharply. “Shujin, iye! Watakushi wa Anjin-san!”

Both men stared at him.

Blackthorne broke the silence and added in halting Japanese, knowing the words to be ungrammatical and childishly spoken, but hoping they would be understood, “I friend. Not prisoner. Understand please. Friend. So sorry, friend want bath. Bath, understand? Tired. Hungry. Bath.” He pointed to the castle donjon. “Go there! Now, please. Lord Toranaga one, Lord Ishido two. Go now.”

And with added imperiousness on the last “ima” he got awkwardly into the palanquin and lay down on the cushions, his feet sticking far out.

Then Yabu laughed, and everyone joined in.

“Ah so, Anjin-sama!” Yabu said with a mocking bow.

“Iye, Yabu-sama. Anjin-san,” Blackthorne corrected him contentedly. Yes, you bastard. I know a thing or two now. But I haven’t forgotten about you. And soon I’ll be walking on your grave.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Perhaps it would have been better to consult me before removing my prisoner from my jurisdiction, Lord Ishido,” Toranaga was saying.

“The barbarian was in the common prison with common people. Naturally I presumed you’d no further interest in him, otherwise I wouldn’t have had him taken out of there. Of course, I never meant to interfere with your private affairs.” Ishido was outwardly calm and deferential but inside he was seething. He knew that he had been trapped into an indiscretion. It was true that he should have asked Toranaga first. Ordinary politeness demanded it. Even that would not have mattered at all if he still had the barbarian in his power, in his quarters; he would simply have handed over the foreigner at his leisure, if and when Toranaga had asked for him. But for some of his men to have been intercepted and ignominiously killed, and then for the daimyo Yabu and some of Toranaga’s men to have taken physical possession of the barbarian from more of his men changed the position completely. He had lost face, whereas his whole strategy for Toranaga’s public destruction was to put Toranaga into precisely that position. “Again I apologize.”

Toranaga glanced at Hiro-matsu, the apology music to their ears. Both men knew how much inner bleeding it had cost Ishido. They were in the great audience room. By prior agreement, the two antagonists had only five guards present, men of guaranteed reliability. The rest were waiting outside.

Yabu was also waiting outside. And the barbarian was being cleaned. Good, Toranaga thought, feeling very pleased with himself. He put his mind on Yabu briefly and decided not to see him today after all, but to continue to play him like a fish. So he asked Hiro-matsu to send him away and turned again to Ishido. “Of course your apology is accepted. Fortunately no harm was done.”

“Then I may take the barbarian to the Heir—as soon as he’s presentable?”

“I’ll send him as soon as I’ve finished with him.”

“May I ask when that will be? The Heir was expecting him this morning.”

“We shouldn’t be too concerned about that, you and I, neh? Yaemon’s only seven. I’m sure a seven-year-old boy can possess himself with patience. Neh? Patience is a form of discipline and requires practice. Doesn’t it? I’ll explain the misunderstanding myself. I’m giving him another swimming lesson this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You should learn to swim too, Lord Ishido. It’s excellent exercise and could come in very useful during war. All my samurai can swim. I insist that all learn that art.”

“Mine spend their time practicing archery, swordsmanship, riding, and shooting.”

“Mine add poetry, penmanship, flower arranging, the cha-no-yu ceremony. Samurai should be well versed in the arts of peace to be strong for the arts of war.”

“Most of my men are already more than proficient in those arts,” Ishido said, conscious that his own writing was poor and his learning limited. “Samurai are birthed for war. I understand war very well. That is enough at the moment. That and obedience to our Master’s will.”

“Yaemon’s swimming lesson is at the Hour of the Horse.” The day and the night were each split into six equal parts. The day began with the Hour of the Hare, from 5 A.M. to 7 A.M., then the Dragon, from 7 A.M. to 9 A.M. The hours of the Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Cock, Dog, Boar, Rat and Ox followed, and the cycle ended with the Hour of the Tiger between 3 A.M. and 5 A.M. “Would you like to join the lesson?”

“Thank you, no. I’m too old to change my ways,” Ishido said thinly.

“I hear the captain of your men was ordered to commit seppuku.”

“Naturally. The bandits should have been caught. At least one of them should have been caught. Then we would have found the others.”

“I’m astounded that such carrion could operate so close to the castle.”

“I agree. Perhaps the barbarian could describe them.”

“What would a barbarian know?” Toranaga laughed. “As to the bandits, they were ronin, weren’t they? Ronin are plentiful among your men. Inquiries there might prove fruitful. Neh?”

“Inquiries are being pressed. In many directions.” Ishido passed over the veiled sneer about