Shōgun полностью

He tried to recall the first night but could remember little. Somehow he had made it back on his own legs. Fujiko and the servants had helped him to bed. After a dreamless sleep, he woke at dawn and went for a swim. Then, drying in the sun, he had thanked God for the strength and the clue that Mariko had given him. Later, walking home, he greeted the villagers, knowing secretly that they were freed of Yabu's curse, as he was freed.

Then, when Mariko had arrived, he had sent for Mura.

"Mariko-san, please tell Mura this: 'We have a problem, you and I. We will solve it together. I want to join the village school. To learn to speak with children.'"

"They haven't a school, Anjin-san."

"None?"

"No. Mura says there's a monastery a few ri to the west and the monks could teach you reading and writing if you wish. But this is a village, Anjin-san. The children here need to learn the ways of fish, the sea, making nets, planting and growing rice and crops. There's little time for anything else, except reading and writing. And, too, parents and grandparents teach their own, as always."

"Then how can I learn when you've gone?"

"Lord Toranaga will send the books."

"I'll need more than books."

"Everything will be satisfactory, Anjin-san."

"Yes. Perhaps. But tell the headman that whenever I make a mistake, everyone-everyone, even a child-is to correct me. At once. I order it."

"He says thank you, Anjin-san."

"Does anyone here speak Portuguese?"

"He says no."

"Anyone nearby?"

"Iyé, Anjin-san."

"Mariko-san, I've got to have someone when you leave."

"I'll tell Yabu-san what you've said."

"Mura-san, you-"

"He says you must not use 'san' to him or to any villagers. They are beneath you. It's not correct for you to say 'san' to them or anyone beneath you."

Fujiko had also bowed to the ground that first day. "Fujiko-san welcomes you home, Anjin-san. She says you have done her great honor and she begs your forgiveness for being rude on the ship. She is honored to be consort and head of your house. She asks if you will keep the swords as it would please her greatly. They belonged to her father, who is dead. She had not given them to her husband because he had swords of his own."

"Thank her and say I'm honored she's consort," he had said.

Mariko had bowed too. Formally. "You are in a new life now, Anjin-san. We look at you with new eyes. It is our custom to be formal sometimes, with great seriousness. You have opened my eyes. Very much. Once you were just a barbarian to me. Please excuse my stupidity. What you did proves you're samurai. Now you are samurai. Please forgive my previous bad manners."

He had felt very tall that day. But his self-inflicted near-death had changed him more than he realized and scarred him forever, more than the sum of all his other near-deaths.

Did you rely on Omi? he asked himself. That Omi would catch the blow? Didn't you give him plenty of warning?

I don't know. I only know I'm glad he was ready, Blackthorne answered himself truthfully. That's another life gone!

"That's my ninth life. The last!" he said aloud. Suwo's fingers ceased at once.

"What?" Mariko asked. "What did you say, Anjin-san?"

"Nothing. It was nothing," he replied, ill at ease.

"I hurt you, Master?" Suwo said.

"No." Suwo said something more that he did not understand.

"Dozo?"

Mariko said distantly, "He wants to massage your back now."

Blackthorne turned on his stomach and repeated the Japanese and forgot it at once. He could see her through the steam. She was breathing deeply, her head tilted back slightly, her skin pink.

How does she stand the heat, he asked himself. Training, I suppose, from childhood.

Suwo's fingers pleasured him, and he drowsed momentarily.

What was I thinking about?

You were thinking about your ninth life, your last life, and you were frightened, remembering the superstition. But it is foolish here in this Land of the Gods to be superstitious. Things are different here and this is forever. Today is forever.

Tomorrow many things can happen.

Today I'll abide by their rules.

I will.

The maid brought in the covered dish. She held it high above her head as was custom, so that her breath would not defile the food. Anxiously she knelt and placed it carefully on the tray table in front of Blackthorne. On each little table were bowls and chopsticks, saké cups and napkins, and a tiny flower arrangement. Fujiko and Mariko were sitting opposite him. They wore flowers and silver combs in their hair. Fujiko's kimono was a pale green pattern of fish on a white background, her obi gold. Mariko wore black and red with a thin silver overlay of chrysanthemums and a red and silver check obi. Both wore perfume, as always. Incense burned to keep the night bugs away.

Blackthorne had long since composed himself. He knew that any displeasure from him would destroy their evening. If pheasants could be caught there would be other game, he thought. He had a horse and guns and he could hunt himself, if only he could get the time.