"I wasn't listening. Madonna! Would you - held like a common criminal?" Rodrigues added sourly, "Eh, what's it matter, Ingeles, what's anything matter? The night's spoiled .... Hey, but wait, Ingeles! Why should anything be allowed to spoil a great evening? I forgive them. And I forgive you, Ingeles. You were right and I was wrong. I apologize. It's good to see you." He unscrewed the stopper and offered the flask. "Here here's some fine brandy."
"You first."
Rodrigues' face became ashen. "Madonna - do you think I bring poison?"
"No. You drink first."
Rodrigues drank.
"Again!"
The Portuguese obeyed, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Blackthorne accepted the flask. "Salud!" He tipped it back and pretended to swallow, secretly keeping his tongue over the opening to prevent the liquor from going into his mouth, much as he wanted the drink. "Ah!" he said. "That was good. Here!"
"Keep it, Ingeles. It's a present."
"From the good Father? Or from you?"
"From me."
"Before God?"
"God and the Virgin, thou and thy 'before God'!" Rodrigues said. "It was a gift from me and the Father! He owns all the liquor aboard the Santa Filipa but the Eminence said I could share it and the flask's one of a dozen aboard. It's a gift. Where are your manners?"
Blackthorne pretended to drink again and offered it back. "Here, have another."
Rodrigues felt the liquor all the way to his toes and was glad that, after accepting the full flask from Alvito, he had privately emptied it and washed it out carefully and refilled it with brandy from his own bottle. Madonna, forgive me, he prayed, forgive me for doubting the Holy Father. Oh, Madonna, God, and Lord Jesus, for the love of God, come to earth again and change this world where sometimes we dare not even trust priests.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing, Ingeles. I was just thinking that this world's a foul pisscutter when you can't trust anyone nowadays. I came in friendship and now there's a hole in the world."
"Did you?"
"Yes."
"Armed like that?"
"I'm always armed like that. That's why I'm alive. Salud!" The big man raised the flask gloomily and sipped again. "Piss on the world, piss on everything."
"Are you saying, piss on me?"
"Ingeles, this is me, Vasco Rodrigues, Pilot of the Portuguese Navy, not a flyblown samurai. I've exchanged many insults with you, all in friendship. Tonight I came to see my friend and now I have no friend. So sad."
"Yes."
"I shouldn't be sad but I am. Being friends with thee complicated my life extraordinarily." Rodrigues got up and eased his back, then sat down again. "I hate sitting on these God-cursed cushions! Chairs are for me. Aboard. Well, salud, Ingeles."
"When you swerved into wind and I was amidships, that was to put me overboard. Wasn't it?"
"Yes," Rodrigues answered at once. He got to his feet. "Yes, I'm glad you asked me for that is on my conscience terribly. I'm glad to apologize to you in life for I could not bring myself to confess it to you. Yes, Ingeles. I don't ask forgiveness or understanding or anything. But I am glad to confess that shame to your face."
"You think I'd do that to you?"
"No. But then if the time came .... You never know till your own time of trial."
"You came here to kill me?"
"No. I don't think so. I don't think that was first in my mind, though for my people and my country we both know it would be better for you to be dead. So sad, but so true. How foolish is life, eh, Ingeles?"
"I don't want you dead, Pilot. Just your Black Ship."
"Listen, Ingeles," said Rodrigues without anger. "If we meet at sea, you in your ship, armed, me in mine, look to your life. That's all I came to promise you - only that. I thought it would be possible to tell you that as a friend and still remain your friend. Except for a sea meeting, I am forever in your debt. Salud!"
"I hope to catch your Black Ship at sea. Salud, Pilot."
Rodrigues stalked off. Yoshinaka and the samurai followed him. At the gateway the Portuguese collected his arms. Soon he was swallowed by the night.
Yoshinaka waited until the sentries sorted themselves out. When he was satisfied that all was secure he limped off to his own quarters. Blackthorne sat back on one of the cushions and in a moment the maid that he had sent for sake happily padded up with the tray. She poured one cup and would have stayed to serve him but he dismissed her. Now he was alone. The night sounds surrounded him again, the rustling and the waterfall and the movements of the night birds.
Everything was as before, but everything had changed.
Sadly he reached out to refill his cup but there was a sibilance of silk and Mariko's hand held the flask. She poured for him, the other cup for herself.
"Domo, Mariko-san."
"Do itashimashite, Anjin-san." She settled herself on the other cushion. They sipped the hot wine.
"He was going to kill you, neh?"
"I don't know, not for sure."
"What did it mean - to search like a Spaniard?"
