Shōgun полностью

Toranaga had pounded his pommel with momentary delight, then fell back into his melancholy as the other samurai had cheered. The bodyguard cleansed the blade carefully, using his silken sash to protect the steel. He sheathed the sword with satisfaction and returned it, saying something that Mariko explained later. “He just said, Anjin-san, that he was proud to be allowed to test such a blade. Lord Toranaga is suggesting you should nickname the sword ‘Oil Seller,’ because such a blow and such sharpness should be remembered with honor. Your sword has now become legend, neh?”

Blackthorne recalled how he had nodded, hiding his anguish. He was wearing “Oil Seller” now—Oil Seller it would be forevermore—the same sword that Toranaga had presented to him. I wish he’d never given it to me, he thought. But it wasn’t all their fault, it was mine too. I shouted at the man, he was rude in return, and samurai may not be treated rudely. What other course was there? Blackthorne knew there was none. Even so, the killing had taken the joy out of the hunt for him, though he had to hide that carefully because Toranaga had been moody and difficult all day.

Just before noon, they had returned to Yokosé, then there was Toranaga’s meeting with Zataki and then after a steaming bath and massage, suddenly Father Alvito was standing in his way like a vengeful wraith, two hostile acolytes in attendance. “Christ Jesus, get away from me!”

“There’s no need to be afraid, or to blaspheme,” Alvito had said.

“God curse you and all priests!” Blackthorne said, trying to get hold of himself, knowing that he was deep in enemy territory. Earlier he’d seen half a hundred Catholic samurai trickling over the bridge to the Mass that Mariko had told him was being held in the forecourt of Alvito’s inn. His hand sought the hilt of his sword, but he was not wearing it with his bathrobe, or carrying it as was customary, and he cursed his stupidity, hating to be unarmed.

“May God forgive you your blasphemy, Pilot. Yes. May He forgive you and open your eyes. I bear you no malice. I came to bring you a gift. Here, here’s a gift from God, Pilot.”

Blackthorne took the package suspiciously. When he opened it and saw the Portuguese-Latin-Japanese dictionary/grammar, a thrill rushed through him. He leafed through a few pages. The printing was certainly the best he had ever seen, the quality and detail of the information staggering. “Yes, this is a gift from God all right, but Lord Toranaga ordered you to give it to me.”

“We obey only God’s orders.”

“Toranaga asked you to give it to me?”

“Yes. It was his request.”

“And a Toranaga ‘request’ isn’t an order?”

“That depends, Captain-Pilot, on who you are, what you are, and how great your faith.” Alvito motioned at the book. “Three of our Brethren spent twenty-seven years preparing that.”

“Why are you giving it to me?”

“We were asked to.”

“Why didn’t you avoid Lord Toranaga’s request? You’re more than cunning enough to do that.”

Alvito shrugged. Quickly Blackthorne flicked through all the pages, checking. Excellent paper, the printing very clear. The numbers of the pages were in sequence.

“It’s complete,” Alvito said, amused. “We don’t deal with half books.”

“This is much too valuable to give away. What do you want in return?”

“He asked us to give it to you. The Father-Visitor agreed. So you are given it. It was only printed this year, at long last. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? We only ask you to cherish it, to treat the book well. It’s worth treating well.”

“It’s worth guarding with a life. This is priceless knowledge, like one of your rutters. But this is better. What do you want for it?”

“We ask nothing in return.”

“I don’t believe you.” Blackthorne weighed it in his hand, even more suspiciously. “You must know this makes me equal to you. It gives me all your knowledge and saves us ten, maybe twenty years. With this I’ll soon be speaking as well as you. Once I can do that, I can teach others. This is the key to Japan, neh? Language is the key to anywhere foreign, neh? In six months I’ll be able to talk direct to Toranaga-sama.”

“Yes, perhaps you will. If you have six months.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing more than what you already know. Lord Toranaga will be dead long before six months is up.”

“Why? What news did you bring him? Ever since he talked with you he’s been like a bull with half its throat ripped out. What did you say, eh?”

“My message was private, from his Eminence to Lord Toranaga. I’m sorry—I’m merely a messenger. But General Ishido controls Osaka, as you surely know, and when Toranaga-sama goes to Osaka everything is finished for him. And for you.”

Blackthorne felt ice in his marrow. “Why me?”