Shōgun полностью

“Lord Toranaga has always been your friend, and if you’re honest with him, he always will be with you.” She pointed to the foundations. “Isn’t this a measure of his fairness? He gave this land freely—even when you failed him and he’d lost everything—even your friendship.”

“Perhaps.”

“Last, Father, only Toranaga-sama can prevent perpetual war, you must know that. As a woman I ask that there be no everlasting war.”

“Yes, Maria. He’s the only one who could do that, perhaps.”

His eyes drifted away from her. Brother Michael was kneeling, lost in prayer, the two servants nearer the shore, waiting patiently. The Jesuit felt overwhelmed yet uplifted, exhausted yet filled with strength. “I’m glad that you have come here and told me this. I thank thee. For the Church and for me, a servant of the Church, I will do everything that I have agreed.”

She bowed her head and said nothing.

“Will you carry a dispatch, Mariko-san? To the Father-Visitor.”

“Yes. If he is at Osaka.”

“A private dispatch?”

“Yes.”

“The dispatch is verbal. You will tell him everything you said to me and what I said to you. Everything.”

“Very well.”

“I have your promise? Before God?”

“You have no need to say that to me, Father. I have agreed.”

He looked into her eyes, firm and strong and committed. “Please excuse me, Maria. Now let me hear thy confession.”

She dropped her veils again. “Please excuse me, Father, I’m not worthy even to confess.”

“Everyone is worthy in the sight of God.”

“Except me. I’m not worthy, Father.”

“You must confess, Maria. I cannot go on with your Mass—you must come before Him cleansed.”

She knelt. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned but I can only confess that I am not worthy to confess,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Compassionately Father Alvito put his hand lightly on her head. “Daughter of God, let me beg God’s forgiveness for thy sins. Let me in His name absolve thee and make thee whole in His sight.” He blessed her, and then he continued her Mass in this imaginary cathedral, under the breaking sky . . . the service more real and more beautiful than it had ever been, for him and for her.

Erasmus was anchored in the best storm harbor Blackthorne had ever seen, far enough from shore to give her plenty of sea room, yet close enough for safety. Six fathoms of clear water over a strong seabed were below, and except for the narrow neck of the entrance, high land all around that would keep any fleet snug from the ocean’s wrath.

The day’s journey from Yedo had been uneventful though tiring. Half a ri northward the galley was moored to a pier near Yokohama fishing village, and now they were alone aboard, Blackthorne and all his men, both Dutch and Japanese. Yabu and Naga were ashore inspecting the Musket Regiment and he had been told to join them shortly. Westward the sun was low on the horizon and the red sky promised another fine day tomorrow.

“Why now, Uraga-san?” Blackthorne was asking from the quarterdeck, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. He had just ordered the crew and everyone to stand down, and Uraga had asked him to delay for a moment to find out if there were any Christians among the vassals. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“No, Sire, so sorry.” Uraga was looking up at him in front of the assembled samurai vassals, the Dutch crew gathering into a nervous knot near the quarterdeck railing. “Please excuse me, but it is most important you find out at once. You are their most enemy. Therefore you must know, for your protection. I only wish to protect you. Not take long, neh?”

“Are they all on deck?”

“Yes, Sire.”

Blackthorne went closer to the railing and called out in Japanese, “Is anyone Christian?” There was no answer. “I order any Christian come forward.” No one moved. So he turned back to Uraga. “Set ten deck guards, then dismiss them.”

“With your permission, Anjin-san.” From under his kimono Uraga brought out a small painted icon that he had brought from Yedo and threw it face upward on the deck. Then, deliberately, he stamped on it. Blackthorne and the crew were greatly disquieted by the desecration. Except Jan Roper. “Please. Make every vassal do same,” Uraga said.

“Why?”

“I know Christians.” Uraga’s eyes were half hidden by the brim of his hat. “Please, Sire. Important every man do same. Now, tonight.”

“All right,” Blackthorne agreed reluctantly.

Uraga turned to the assembled vassals. “At my suggestion our Master requires each of us to do this.”

The samurai were grumbling among themselves and one interrupted, “We’ve already said that we’re not Christians, neh? What does stamping on a barbarian god picture prove? Nothing!”

“Christians are our Master’s enemy. Christians are treacherous—but Christians are Christian. Please excuse me, I know Christians—to my shame I forsook our real gods. So sorry, but I believe this is necessary for our Master’s safety.”