"In this we are very wise and the Holy Fathers unwise. This was one of the two great reasons the Taiko would not embrace Christianity, this foolishness about divorce - and the sixth Commandment, 'Thou shalt not kill.' The Father-Visitor sent all the way to Rome begging dispensation for Japanese about divorce. But His Holiness the Pope, in his wisdom, said no. If His Holiness had said yes, I believe the Taiko would have converted, the daimyos would be following the True Faith now, and the land would be Christian. The matter of 'killing' would have been unimportant because no one pays any attention to that really, Christians least of all. Such a little concession, for so much, neh?"
"Yes," Blackthorne had said. How sensible divorce seemed here. Why was it a mortal sin at home, opposed by every priest in Christendom, Catholic or Protestant, in the name of God?
"What's Toranaga's wife like?" he had asked, wanting to keep her talking. Most of the time she avoided the subject of Toranaga and his family history and it was important for Blackthorne to know everything.
A shadow had crossed Mariko's face. "She's dead. She was his second wife and she died ten or eleven years ago. She was the Taiko's stepsister. Lord Toranaga was never successful with his wives, Anjin-san. "
"Why?"
"Oh, the second was old and tired and grasping, worshiping gold, though pretending not to, like her brother, the Taiko himself. Barren and bad-tempered. It was a political marriage, of course. I had to be one of her ladies-in-waiting for a time. Nothing would please her and none of the youths or men could unwind the knot in her Golden Pavilion."
"What?"
"Her Jade Gate, Anjin-san. With their Turtle Heads - their Steaming Shafts. Don't you understand? Her . . . thing."
"Oh! I understand. Yes."
"No one could unwind her knot . . . could satisfy her."
"Not even Toranaga?"
"He never pillowed her, Anjin-san," she had said, quite shocked. "Of course, after the marriage he had nothing to do with her, other than give her a castle and retainers and the keys to his treasure house - why should he? She was quite old, she'd been married twice before, but her brother, the Taiko, had dissolved the marriages. A most unpleasant woman - everyone was most relieved when she went into the Great Void, even the Taiko, and all her stepdaughters-in-law and all of Toranaga's consorts secretly burnt incense with great joy."
"And Toranaga's first wife?"
"Ah, the Lady Tachibana. That was another political marriage. Lord Toranaga was eighteen, she fifteen. She grew up to be a terrible woman. Twenty years ago Toranaga had her put to death because he discovered she was secretly plotting to assassinate their liege lord, the Dictator Goroda, whom she hated. My father often told me he thought they were all lucky to retain their heads - he, Toranaga, Nakamura, and all the generals - because Goroda was merciless, relentless, and particularly suspicious of those closest to him. That woman could have ruined them all, however innocent they were. Because of her plot against Lord Goroda, her only son, Nobunaga, was also put to death, Anjin-san. She killed her own son. Think of that, so sad, so terrible. Poor Nobunaga - he was Toranaga's favorite son and his official heir - brave, a general in his own right, and totally loyal. He was innocent but she still embroiled him in her plot. He was only nineteen when Toranaga ordered him to commit seppuku."
"Toranaga killed his own son? And his wife?"
"Yes, he ordered them onward, but he had no choice, Anjin-san. If he hadn't, Lord Goroda would correctly have presumed Toranaga to be part of the plot himself and would have ordered him instantly to slit his belly. Oh yes, Toranaga was lucky to escape Goroda's wrath and wise to send her onward quickly. When she was dead her daughter-in-law and all Toranaga's consorts were very much ecstatic. Her son had had to send his first wife home in disgrace on her orders for some imagined slight - after bearing him two children. The girl committed seppuku - did I tell you ladies commit seppuku by slitting their throats, Anjin-san, and not their stomachs like men? - but she went to death gratefully, glad to be freed from a life of tears, as the next wife prayed for death, her life made equally miserable by her mother-in-law...."
Now, looking at Midori's mother-in-law, the tea dribbling down her chin, Blackthorne knew that this old hag had power of life or death, divorce or degradation over Midori, provided her husband, the head of their house, agreed. And, whatever they decided, Omi would obey. How terrible, he told himself.
Midori was as graceful and youthful as the old woman was not, her face oval, her hair rich. She was more beautiful than Mariko, but without her fire and strength, pliant as a fern and fragile as gossamer.
"Where are the small foods? Of course the Anjin-san must be hungry, neh?" the old woman said.
