Shogun (The Asian Saga Chronology) (170 page)

"Wait?  How long're we to wait?  Five muck-plagued years, twenty?  Christ Jesus, you said yourself all these shitheads're at war
now!
"  Vinck's mind snapped.  "They're going to chop off our heads and stick them like those there and the birds'll eat us. . . ."  A paroxysm of insane laughter shook him and he reached into his ragged shirt.  Blackthorne saw the pistol butt and it would have been easy to smash Vinck to the ground and take the pistol but he did nothing to defend himself.  Vinck waved the pistol in his face, dancing around him with drooling, lunatic glee.  Blackthorne waited unafraid, hoping for the bullet, then Vinck took to his heels down the beach, the seabirds scudding into the air, mewing and cawing out of his path.  Vinck ran for a frantic hundred paces or more, then collapsed, ending up on his back, his legs still moving, arms waving, mouthing obscenities.  After a moment he turned on his belly with a last shriek, facing Blackthorne, and froze.  There was a silence.

When Blackthorne came up to Vinck the pistol was leveled at him, the eyes staring with demented antagonism, the lips pulled back from his teeth.  Vinck was dead.

Blackthorne closed the eyes and picked him up and slung him over his shoulder and walked back.  Samurai were running toward him, Naga and Yabu at their head.

"What happened, Anjin-san?"

"He went mad."

"Is that so?  Is he dead?"

"Yes.  First burial, then Yedo.  All right?"

"
Hai
."

Blackthorne sent for a shovel and asked them to leave him for a while and he buried Vinck above the water line on a crest that overlooked the wreck.  He said a service over the grave and planted a cross in the grave that he fashioned out of two pieces of driftwood.  It was so easy to say the service.  He had spoken it too many times.  On this voyage alone over a hundred times for his own crew since they'd left Holland.  Only Baccus van Nekk and the boy Croocq survived now; the others had come from other ships—Salamon the mute, Jan Roper, Sonk the cook, Ginsel the sailmaker.  Five ships and four hundred and ninety-six men.  And now Vinck.  All gone now except the seven of us.  And for what?

To circumnavigate the globe?  To be the first?

"I don't know," he said to the grave.  "But that won't happen now."

He made everything tidy.  "
Sayonara
, Johann."  Then he walked down to the sea and swam naked to the wreck to purify himself.  He had told Naga and Yabu that this was their custom after burying one of their men on land.  The captain had to do it in private if there was no one else and the sea was the purifier before their God, which was the Christian God but not quite the same as the Jesuit Christian God.

He hung on to one of the ship's ribs and saw that barnacles were already clustering, sand already silting over the keel plate, three fathoms below.  Soon the sea would claim her and she would vanish.  He looked around aimlessly.  Nothing to salvage, he told himself, expecting nothing.

He swam ashore.  Some of his vassals waited with fresh clothes.  He dressed and put his swords in his sash and walked back.  Near the wharf one of his vassals pointed.  "Anjin-san!"

A carrier pigeon, pursued by a hawk, was clattering wildly for the safety of the home coop in the village.  The coop was in the attic of the tallest building, set back from the seashore on a slight rise.  With a hundred yards to go, the hawk on station, high above its prey, closed its wings and plummeted.  The stoop hit with a burst of feathers but it was not perfect.  The pigeon fell screeching as though mortally wounded, then, near the ground, recovered and fled for home.  She scrambled through a hole in the coop to safety, the hawk
ek-ek-ek-ing
with rage a few paces behind, and everyone cheered, except Blackthorne.  Even the pigeon's cleverness and bravery did not touch him.  Nothing touched anymore.

"Good, neh?" one of his vassals said, embarrassed by his master's dourness.

"Yes."  Blackthorne went back to the galley.  Yabu was there and the Lady Sazuko, Kiri and the captain.  Everything was ready.  "Yabu-san. 
Ima
Yedo
ka?
" he asked.

But Yabu did not answer and no one noticed him.  All eyes were on Naga, who was hurrying toward the village.  A pigeon handler came out of the building to meet him.  Naga broke the seal and read the slip of paper.  "Galley and all aboard to stay at Yokohama until I arrive."  It was signed Toranaga.

The horsemen came rapidly over the lip of the hill in the early sun.  First were the fifty outriders and scouts of the advance guard led by Buntaro.  Next came the banners.  Then Toranaga.  After him was the bulk of the war party under the command of Omi.  Following them were Father Alvito Tsukku-san and ten acolytes in a tight group and, after them, a small rear guard, among them hunters with falcons on their gloves, all hooded except one great yellow-eyed goshawk.  All samurai were heavily armed and wore chain cuirasses and cavalry battle armor.

Toranaga rode easily, his spirit lightened now, a newer and stronger man, and he was glad to be near the end of his journey.  It was two and a half days since he had sent the order to Naga to keep the galley at Yokohama and had left Mishima on this forced march.  They had come very fast, picking up fresh horses every twenty
ri
or so.  At one station where horses were not available the samurai in charge was removed, his stipend given to another, and he was invited to commit seppuku or shave his head and become a priest.  The samurai chose death.

The fool had been warned, Toranaga thought, the whole Kwanto's mobilized and on a war footing.  Still, that man wasn't a total waste, he told himself.  At least the news of that example will flash the length of my domains and there'll be no more unnecessary delays.

So much yet to do, he thought, his mind frantic with facts and plans and counterplans.  In four days it will be
the
day, the twenty-second day of eighth month, the Month for Viewing the Moon.  Today, at Osaka, the courtier Ogaki Takamoto formally goes to Ishido and regretfully announces that the Son of Heaven's visit to Osaka has to be delayed for a few days due to ill health.

It had been so easy to manipulate the delay.  Although Ogaki was a Prince of the Seventh Rank and descended from the Emperor Go-Shoko, the ninety-fifth of the dynasty, he was impoverished like all members of the Imperial Court.  The Court possessed no revenue of its own.  Only samurai possessed revenue and, for hundreds of years, the Court had had to exist on a stipend—always carefully controlled and lean—granted it by the Shōgun, Kwampaku, or ruling Junta of the day.  So Toranaga had humbly and very cautiously assigned ten thousand koku yearly to Ogaki, through intermediaries, to donate to needy relatives as Ogaki himself wished, saying with due humility that, being Minowara and therefore also descended from Go-Shoko, he was delighted to be of service and trusted that the Exalted would take care of his precious health in so treacherous a climate as Osaka's, particularly around the twenty-second day.

Of course there was no guarantee that Ogaki could persuade or dissuade the Exalted, but Toranaga had surmised that the advisers to the Son of Heaven, or the Son of Heaven himself, would welcome an excuse to delay—hopefully, at length to cancel.  Only once in three centuries had a ruling Emperor ever left his sanctuary at Kyoto.  That had been four years ago at the invitation of the Taikō to view the cherry blossoms near Osaka Castle, coincident with his resigning the Kwampaku title in favor of Yaemon—and so, by implication, putting the Imperial Seal on the succession.

Normally no
daimyo
, even Toranaga, would have dared to make such an offer to any member of the Court because it insulted and usurped the prerogative of a superior—in this case the Council—and would instantly be construed as treason, as it rightly was.  But Toranaga knew he was already indicted for treason.

Tomorrow Ishido and his allies will move against me.  How much more time have I left?  Where should
the
battle be?  Odawara?  Victory depends only on the time and the place, and not on the number of men.  They'll outnumber me three to one at the very least.  Never mind, he thought,
Ishido's coming out of Osaka Castle!
  Mariko pried him out.  In the chess game for power I sacrificed my queen but Ishido's lost two castles.

Yes.  But you lost more than a queen in the last play.  You lost a ship.  A pawn can become a queen—but not a ship!

They were riding downhill in a quick, bone-jarring trot.  Below was the sea.  They turned a corner on the path and there was Yokohama village, with the wreck just offshore.  He could see the plateau where the Musket Regiment were drawn up in battle review with their horses and equipment, muskets in their holsters, other samurai, equally well armed, lining his route as an honor guard nearer the shore.  On the outskirts of the village the villagers were kneeling in neat rows waiting to honor him.  Beyond them was the galley, the sailors waiting with their captain.  On either side of the wharf, fishing boats were beached in meticulous array and he made a mental note to reprimand Naga.  He had ordered the regiment ready for instant departure, but to stop fishermen or peasants from fishing or working the fields was irresponsible.

He turned in his saddle and called up a samurai, ordering him to tell Buntaro to go ahead and see that all was safe and prepared.  "Then go to the village and dismiss all the villagers to their work, except the headman."

"Yes, Sire."  The man dug in his spurs and galloped away.

Now Toranaga was near enough to the plateau to distinguish faces.  The Anjin-san and Yabu, then Kiri and the Lady Sazuko.  His excitement quickened.

Buntaro was galloping down the track, his great bow and two full quivers on his back, half a dozen samurai close behind him.  They swung off the track and came out onto the plateau.  Instantly he saw Blackthorne and his face became even sterner.  Then he reined in and looked around cautiously.  A roofed reviewing stand bearing a single cushion was facing the regiment.  Another, smaller and lower, was nearby.  Kiri and the Lady Sazuko waited under it.  Yabu, as the most senior officer, was at the head of the regiment, Naga on his right, the Anjin-san on his left.  All seemed safe, and Buntaro waved the main party onward.  The advance guard trotted up, dismounted, and spread protectively around the reviewing stand.  Then Toranaga rode into the arena.  Naga lifted the battle standard on high.  At once the four thousand men shouted, "Toranagaaaaaaa!" and bowed.

Toranaga did not acknowledge their salute.  In absolute silence he took stock.  He noticed that Buntaro was covertly watching the Anjin-san.  Yabu was wearing the sword he had given him, but was very nervous.  The Anjin-san's bow was correct and motionless, the haft of his sword broken.  Kiri and his youngest consort were kneeling, their hands flat on the tatamis, their faces demurely lowered.  His eyes softened momentarily, then he gazed disapprovingly at the regiment.  Every man was still bowing.  He did not bow back, just nodded curtly and he felt the tremor that went through the samurai as they straightened up again.  Good, he thought, dismounting nimbly, glad that they feared his vengeance.  A samurai took his reins and led his horse away as he turned his back on the regiment and, sweat stained like all of them in the humidity, he walked over to his ladies.  "So, Kiri-san, welcome home!"

She bowed again joyously.  "Thank you, Sire.  I never thought I'd have the pleasure of seeing you ever again."

"Nor I, Lady."  Toranaga let a glimmer of his happiness show.  He glanced at the young girl.  "So, Sazuko-san?  Where's my son?"

"With his wet nurse, Sire," she replied breathlessly, basking in his open favor.

"Please send someone to fetch our child at once."

"Oh please, Sire, with your permission, may I bring him to you myself?"

"Yes, yes, if you wish."  Toranaga smiled and watched her go for a moment, liking her greatly.  Again he looked at Kiri.  "Is everything all right with you?" he asked for her ears alone.

"Yes, Lord. Oh, yes—and seeing you so strong fills me with gladness."

"You've lost weight, Kiri-chan, and you're younger than ever."

"Ah, so sorry, Sire, it's not true.  But thank you, thank you."

He grinned at her.  "Whatever it is then, it suits you.  Tragedy—loneliness—being forsaken. . . I'm pleased to see you, Kiri-chan."

"Thank you, Sire.  I'm so happy that
her
obedience and sacrifice unlocked Osaka. It would please
her
greatly, Sire, to know she was successful."

"First I have to deal with this rabble, then later we'll talk.  There's lots to talk about,
neh?
"

"Yes, oh yes!"  Her eyes sparkled.  "The Son of Heaven will be delayed,
neh?
"

"That would be wise.
Neh?
"

"I have a private message from Lady Ochiba."

"Ah? Good!  But it will have to wait."  He paused.  "The Lady Mariko, she died honorably?  By choice and not by accident or mistake?"

"Mariko-sama
chose
death.  It was seppuku.  If she hadn't done what she did, they would have captured her.  Oh, Sire, she was so marvelous all those evil days.  So brave.  And the Anjin-san.  If it hadn't been for him, she would have been captured and shamed.  We would all have been captured and shamed."

"Ah yes, the
ninja
."  Toranaga exhaled, his eyes became jet and she shivered in spite of herself.  "Ishido's got much to answer for, Kiri-chan.  Please excuse me."  He stalked over to the reviewing stand and sat, stern and menacing again.  His guards surrounded him.

"Omi-san!"

"Yes, Sire?"  Omi came forward and bowed, seeming older than before, leaner now.

"Escort the Lady Kiritsubo to her quarters, and make sure mine are adequate.  I'll stay here tonight."

Omi saluted and walked off and Toranaga was glad to see that the sudden change of plan produced not even a flicker in Omi's eyes.  Good, he thought, Omi's learning, or his spies have told him I've secretly ordered Sudara and Hiro-Matsu here so I could not possibly leave until tomorrow.