Shōgun полностью

“You can’t escape your fate, Pilot. You helped Toranaga against Ishido. Have you forgotten? You put your hands violently on Ishido. You led the dash out of Osaka harbor. I’m sorry, but being able to speak Japanese, or your swords and samurai status, won’t help you at all. Perhaps it’s worse now that you’re samurai. Now you’ll be ordered to commit seppuku and if you refuse . . .” Alvito had added in the same gentle voice, “I told you before, they are a simple people.”

“We English are simple people, too,” he said, with no little bravado. “When we’re dead we’re dead, but before that we put our trust in God and keep our powder dry. I’ve a few tricks left, never fear.”

“Oh, I don’t fear, Pilot. I fear nothing, not you nor your heresy, nor your guns. They’re all spiked—as you’re spiked.”

“That’s karma—in the hands of God—call it what you will,” Blackthorne told him, rattled. “But by the Lord God, I’ll get my ship back and then, in a couple of years, I’ll lead a squadron of English ships out here and blow you all to hell out of Asia.”

Alvito spoke again with his vast unnerving calm. “That’s in the hands of God, Pilot. But here the die is cast and nothing of what you say will happen. Nothing.” Alvito had looked at him as though he were already dead. “May God have mercy on you, for as God is my judge, Pilot, I believe you’ll never leave these islands.”

Blackthorne shivered, remembering the total conviction with which Alvito had said that.

“You’re cold, Anjin-san?”

Mariko was standing beside him on the veranda now, shaking out her umbrella in the dusk. “Oh, sorry, no, I’m not cold—I was just wandering.” He glanced up at the pass. The whole column had vanished into the cloud bank. The rain had abated a little and had become mild and soft. Some villagers and servants splashed through the puddles, homeward bound. The forecourt was empty, the garden water-logged. Oil lanterns were coming on throughout the village. No longer were there sentries on the gateway, or at both sides of the bridge. A great emptiness seemed to dominate the twilight.

“It’s much prettier at night, isn’t it?” she said.

“Yes,” he replied, totally aware that they were alone together, and safe, if they were careful and if she wanted as he wanted.

A maid came and took her umbrella, bringing dry tabi socks. She knelt and began to towel Mariko’s feet dry.

“Tomorrow at dawn we’ll begin our journey, Anjin-san.”

“How long will it take us?”

“A number of days, Anjin-san. Lord Toranaga said—” Mariko glanced off as Gyoko padded obsequiously from inside the inn. “Lord Toranaga told me there was plenty of time.”

Gyoko bowed low. “Good evening, Lady Toda, please excuse me for interrupting you.”

“How are you, Gyoko-san?”

“Fine, thank you, though I wish this rain would stop. I don’t like this mugginess. But then, when the rains stop, we have the heat and that’s so much worse, neh? But the autumn’s not far away. . . . Ah, we’re so lucky to have autumn to look forward to, and heavenly spring, neh?”

Mariko did not answer. The maid fastened the tabi for her and got up. “Thank you,” Mariko said, dismissing her. “So, Gyoko-san? There’s something I can do for you?”

“Kiku-san asked if you would like her to serve you at dinner, or to dance or sing for you tonight. Lord Toranaga left instructions for her to entertain you, if you wished.”

“Yes, he told me, Gyoko-san. That would be very nice, but perhaps not tonight. We have to leave at dawn and I’m very tired. There’ll be other nights, neh? Please give her my apologies, and, oh yes, please tell her I’m delighted to have the company of you both on the road.” Toranaga had ordered Mariko to take the two women with her, and she had thanked him, pleased to have them as a formal chaperone.

“You’re too kind,” Gyoko said with honey on her tongue. “But it’s our honor. We’re still to go to Yedo?”

“Yes. Of course. Why?”

“Nothing, Lady Toda. But, in that case, perhaps we could stop in Mishima for a day or two? Kiku-san would like to gather up some clothes—she doesn’t feel adequately gowned for Lord Toranaga, and I hear the Yedo summer’s very sultry and mosquitoed. We should collect her wardrobe, bad as it is.”

“Yes. Of course. You’ll both have more than enough time.”

Gyoko did not look at Blackthorne, though both were very conscious of him. “It’s—it’s tragic about our Master, neh?”

“Karma,” Mariko replied evenly. Then she added with a woman’s sweet viciousness, “But nothing’s changed, Gyoko-san. You’ll be paid the day you arrive, in silver, as the contract says.”

“Oh, so sorry,” the older woman told her, pretending to be shocked. “So sorry, Lady Toda, but money? That was farthest from my mind. Never! I was only concerned with our Master’s future.”