Shōgun полностью

Mariko translated the question for Buntaro and then turned back again. “Hai, Anjin-san. But it wasn’t a catastrophe, not for them. They were caught in the hills, my father and his family, by Nakamura, the general who became the Taikō. It was Nakamura who led the armies of vengeance and slaughtered all my father’s forces, twenty thousand men, every one. My father and his family were trapped, but my father had time to help them all, my four brothers and three sisters, my—my mother and his two consorts. Then he committed seppuku. In that he was samurai and they were samurai,” she said. “They knelt bravely before him, one by one, and he slew them one by one. They died honorably. And he died honorably. My father’s two brothers and one uncle had sided with him in his treachery against their liege lord. They were also trapped. And they died with equal honor. Not one Akechi was left alive to face the hate and derision of the enemy except me—no, please forgive me, Anjin-san, I’m wrong—my father and his brothers and uncle, they were the real enemy. Of the enemy, only I am left alive, a living witness to filthy treachery. I, Akechi Mariko, was left alive because I was married and so belonged to my husband’s family. We lived at Kyoto then. I was at Kyoto when my father died. His treachery and rebellion lasted only thirteen days, Anjin-san. But as long as men live in these islands, the name Akechi will be foul.”

“How long had you been married when that happened?”

“Two months and three days, Anjin-san.”

“And you were fifteen then?”

“Yes. My husband honored me by not divorcing me or casting me out as he should have done. I was sent away. To a village in the north. It was cold there, Anjin-san, in Shonai Province. So cold.”

“How long were you there?”

“Eight years. The Lord Goroda was forty-nine when he committed seppuku to prevent capture. That was almost sixteen years ago, Anjin-san, and most of his descen—”

Buntaro interrupted again, his tongue a whip.

“Please excuse me, Anjin-san,” Mariko said. “My husband correctly points out it should have been enough for me to say that I am the daughter of a traitor, that long explanations are unnecessary. Of course some explanations are necessary,” she added carefully. “Please excuse my husband’s bad manners and I beg you to remember what I said about ears to hear with and the Eightfold Fence. Forgive me, Anjin-san, I am ordered away. You may not leave until he leaves, or passes out with drink. Do not interfere.” She bowed to Fujiko. “Dozo gomen nasai.”

“Do itashimashité.”

Mariko bowed her head to Buntaro and left. Her perfume lingered.

“Saké!” Buntaro said and smiled evilly.

Fujiko filled the teacup.

“Health,” Blackthorne said, in turmoil.

For more than an hour he toasted Buntaro until he felt his own head swimming. Then Buntaro passed out and lay in the shattered mess of the teacups. The shoji opened instantly. The guard came in with Mariko. They lifted Buntaro, helped by servants who seemed to appear out of nowhere, and carried him to the room opposite. Mariko’s room. Assisted by the maid, Koi, she began to undress him. The guard slid the shoji closed and sat outside it, his hand on the haft of his loosened sword.

Fujiko waited, watching Blackthorne. Maids came and tidied up the disorder. Wearily Blackthorne ran his hands through his long hair and retied the ribbon of his queue. Then he lurched up and went out onto the veranda, his consort following.

The air smelled good and cleansed him. But not enough. He sat ponderously on the stoop and drank in the night.

Fujiko knelt behind him and leaned forward. “Gomen nasai, Anjin-san,” she whispered, nodding back at the house. “Wakarimasu ka?” Do you understand?

“Wakarimasu, shigata ga nai.” Then, seeing her untoward fear, he stroked her hair.

“Arigato, arigato, Anjin-sama.”

“Anatawa suimin ima, Fujiko-san,” he said, finding the words with difficulty. You sleep now.

“Dozo gomen nasai, Anjin-sama, suimin, neh?” she said, motioning him toward his own room, her eyes pleading.

“Iyé. Watashi oyogu ima.” No, I’m going for a swim.

“Hai, Anjin-sama.” Obediently she turned and called out. Two of the servants came running. Both were young men from the village, strong and known to be good swimmers.

Blackthorne did not object. Tonight he knew his objections would be meaningless.

“Well, anyway,” he said aloud as he lurched down the hill, the men following, his brain dulled with drink, “anyway, I’ve put him to sleep. He can’t hurt her now.”

Blackthorne swam for an hour and felt better. When he came back Fujiko was waiting on the veranda with a pot of fresh cha. He accepted some, then went to bed and was instantly asleep.