Shogun (The Asian Saga Chronology) (90 page)

Nervously Fujiko started to talk but Buntaro shut her up with one look.

"
Gomen nasai,
" Fujiko whispered in apology.  "
Dozo, gomen nasai.
"

"What did he say, Mariko-san?"

She appeared not to hear Blackthorne.  "
Dozo gomen nasai,
Buntaro-sama,
watashi
—"

Her husband's face reddened. "
IMA!
"

"So sorry, Anjin-san, but my husband orders me to tell—to answer your questions—to tell you about myself.  I told him that I did not think that family matters should be discussed so late at night, but he orders it.  Please be patient."  She took a large sip of the saké.  Then another.  The strands of hair that were loose over her ears waved in the slight current made by Fujiko's fan.  She drained the cup and put it down.  "My maiden name is Akechi.  I am the daughter of General Lord Akechi Jinsai, the assassin.  My father treacherously assassinated his liege lord, the Dictator Lord Goroda."

"God in heaven!  Why'd he do that?"

"Whatever the reason, Anjin-san, it is insufficient.  My father committed the worst crime in our world.  My blood's tainted, as is the blood of my son."

"Then why—"  He stopped.

"Yes, Anjin-san?"

"I was only going to say that I understand what that means . . . to kill a liege lord.  I'm surprised that you were left alive."

"My husband honored me—"

Again Buntaro viciously interrupted her and she apologized and explained what Blackthorne had asked.  Contemptuously Buntaro waved her on.

"My husband honored me by sending me away," she continued in the same gentle way.  "I begged to be allowed to commit seppuku but he denied me that privilege.  It was . . . I must explain, seppuku is his privilege to give, or Lord Toranaga's.  I still humbly ask it once a year on the anniversary of the day of the treachery.  But in his wisdom, my husband has always refused me."  Her smile was lovely.  "My husband honors me every day, every moment, Anjin-san.  If I were he I would not be able to even talk to such a . . . befouled person."

"That's why—that's why you're the last of your line?" he asked, remembering what she had said about a catastrophe on the march from Osaka Castle.

Mariko translated the question for Buntaro and then turned back again.  "
Hai,
Anjin-san.  But it wasn't a catastrophe, not for them.  They were caught in the hills, my father and his family, by Nakamura, the general who became the Taikō.  It was Nakamura who led the armies of vengeance and slaughtered all my father's forces, twenty thousand men, every one.  My father and his family were trapped, but my father had time to help them all, my four brothers and three sisters, my—my mother and his two consorts.  Then he committed seppuku.  In that he was samurai and they were samurai," she said.  "They knelt bravely before him, one by one, and he slew them one by one.  They died honorably.  And he died honorably.  My father's two brothers and one uncle had sided with him in his treachery against their liege lord.  They were also trapped.  And they died with equal honor.  Not one Akechi was left alive to face the hate and derision of the enemy except me—no, please forgive me, Anjin-san, I'm wrong—my father and his brothers and uncle, they were the real enemy.  Of the enemy, only I am left alive, a living witness to filthy treachery.  I, Akechi Mariko, was left alive because I was married and so belonged to my husband's family.  We lived at Kyoto then.  I was at Kyoto when my father died.  His treachery and rebellion lasted only thirteen days, Anjin-san.  But as long as men live in these islands, the name Akechi will be foul."

"How long had you been married when that happened?"

"Two months and three days, Anjin-san."

"And you were fifteen then?"

"Yes.  My husband honored me by not divorcing me or casting me out as he should have done.  I was sent away.  To a village in the north.  It was cold there, Anjin-san, in Shonai Province.  So cold."

"How long were you there?"

"Eight years.  The Lord Goroda was forty-nine when he committed seppuku to prevent capture.  That was almost sixteen years ago, Anjin-san, and most of his descen—"

Buntaro interrupted again, his tongue a whip.

"Please excuse me, Anjin-san," Mariko said.  "My husband correctly points out it should have been enough for me to say that I am the daughter of a traitor, that long explanations are unnecessary.  Of course some explanations are necessary," she added carefully.  "Please excuse my husband's bad manners and I beg you to remember what I said about ears to hear with and the Eightfold Fence.  Forgive me, Anjin-san, I am ordered away.  You may not leave until he leaves, or passes out with drink.  Do not interfere."  She bowed to Fujiko.  "
Dozo gomen nasai.
"

"
Do itashimashite.
"

Mariko bowed her head to Buntaro and left.  Her perfume lingered.  "Saké!"  Buntaro said and smiled evilly.

Fujiko filled the teacup.

"Health," Blackthorne said, in turmoil.

For more than an hour he toasted Buntaro until he felt his own head swimming.  Then Buntaro passed out and lay in the shattered mess of the teacups.  The shoji opened instantly.  The guard came in with Mariko.  They lifted Buntaro, helped by servants who seemed to appear out of nowhere, and carried him to the room opposite.  Mariko's room.  Assisted by the maid, Koi, she began to undress him.  The guard slid the shoji closed and sat outside it, his hand on the haft of his loosened sword.

Fujiko waited, watching Blackthorne.  Maids came and tidied up the disorder.  Wearily Blackthorne ran his hands through his long hair and retied the ribbon of his queue.  Then he lurched up and went out onto the veranda his consort following.

The air smelled good and cleansed him.  But not enough.  He sat ponderously on the stoop and drank in the night.

Fujiko knelt behind him and leaned forward.  "
Gomen nasai,
Anjin-san," she whispered, nodding back at the house.  "
Wakarimasu ka?
"  Do you understand?

"
Wakarimasu, shigata ga nai.
"  Then, seeing her untoward fear, he stroked her hair.

"
Arigato, arigato,
Anjin-sama."

"
Anatawa suimin ima,
Fujiko-san," he said, finding the words with difficulty.  You sleep now.

"
Dozo gomen nasai,
Anjin-sama,
suimin, neh?
" she said, motioning him toward his own room, her eyes pleading.

"
Iyé.  Watashi oyogu ima.
"  No, I'm going for a swim.

"
Hai,
Anjin-sama."  Obediently she turned and called out.  Two of the servants came running.  Both were young men from the village, strong and known to be good swimmers.

Blackthorne did not object.  Tonight he knew his objections would be meaningless.

"Well, anyway," he said aloud as he lurched down the hill, the men following, his brain dulled with drink, "anyway, I've put him to sleep.  He can't hurt her now."

Blackthorne swam for an hour and felt better.  When he came back Fujiko was waiting on the veranda with a pot of fresh cha.  He accepted some, then went to bed and was instantly asleep.

The sound of Buntaro's voice, teeming with malice, awoke him.  His right hand was already grasping the hilt of the loaded pistol he always kept under the futon, and his heart was thundering in his chest from the suddenness of his waking.

Buntaro's voice stopped.  Mariko began to talk.  Blackthorne could only catch a few words but he could feel the reasonableness and the pleading, not abject or whining or even near tears, just her usual firm serenity.  Again Buntaro erupted.

Blackthorne tried not to listen.

"Don't interfere," she had told him and she was wise.  He had no rights, but Buntaro had many.  "I beg you to be careful, Anjin-san.  Remember what I told you about ears to hear with and the Eightfold Fence."

Obediently he lay back, his skin chilled with sweat, and forced himself to think about what she had said.

"You see, Anjin-san," she had told him that very special evening when they were finishing the last of many last flasks of saké and he had been joking about the lack of privacy everywhere—people always around and paper walls, ears and eyes always prying, "here you have to learn to create your own privacy.  We're taught from childhood to disappear within ourselves, to grow impenetrable walls behind which we live.  If we couldn't, we'd all certainly go mad and kill each other and ourselves."

"What walls?"

"Oh, we've a limitless maze to hide in, Anjin-san.  Rituals and customs, taboos of all kinds, oh yes.  Even our language has nuances you don't have which allow us to avoid, politely, any question if we don't want to answer it."

"But how do you close your ears, Mariko-san?  That's impossible."

"Oh, very easy, with training.  Of course, training begins as soon as a child can talk, so very soon it's second nature to us—how else could we survive?  First you begin by cleansing your mind of
people,
to put yourself on a different plane.  Sunset watching is a great help or listening to the rain—Anjin-san, have you noticed the different sounds of rain?  If you really
listen,
then the present vanishes,
neh?
 
Listening
to blossoms falling and to rocks growing are exceptionally good exercises.  Of course, you're not supposed to
see
the things, they're only signs, messages to your
hara,
your center, to remind you of the transcience of life, to help you gain
wa,
harmony, Anjin-san, perfect harmony, which is the most sought-after quality in all Japanese life, all art, all . . ."  She had laughed.  "There, you see what so much saké does to me."  The tip of her tongue touched her lips so enticingly.  "I will whisper a secret to you:  Don't be fooled by our smiles and gentleness, our ceremonial and our bowing and sweetnesses and attentions.  Beneath them all we can be a million
ri
away, safe and alone.  For that's what we seek—oblivion.  One of our first poems ever written—it's in the Kojiko, our first history book that was written down about a thousand years ago—perhaps that will explain what I'm saying:

'Eight cumulus arise

For the lovers to hide within.

The Eightfold Fence of Izumo Province

Enclose those Eightfold clouds

Oh how marvelous, that Eightfold Fence!'

We would certainly go mad if we didn't have an Eightfold Fence, oh very yes!"

Remember the Eightfold Fence, he told himself, as the hissing fury of Buntaro continued.  I don't know anything about her.  Or him, really.  Think about the Musket Regiment or home or Felicity or, how to get the ship or about Baccus or Toranaga or Omi-san.  What about Omi?  Do I need revenge?  He wants to be my friend and he's been good and kind since the pistols and . . .

The sound of the blow tore into his head.  Then Mariko's voice began again, and there was a second blow and Blackthorne was on his feet in an instant, the shoji open.  The guard stood facing him balefully in the corridor outside Mariko's door, sword ready.

Blackthorne was preparing to launch himself at the samurai when the door at the far end of the corridor opened.  Fujiko, her hair loose and flowing over the sleeping kimono, approached, the sound of ripping cloth and another clout seemingly not touching her at all.  She bowed politely to the guard and stood between them, then bowed meekly to Blackthorne and took his arm, motioning him back into the room.  He saw the taut readiness of the samurai.  He had only one pistol and one bullet at the moment so he retreated.  Fujiko followed and shut the shoji behind her.  Then, very afraid, she shook her head warningly, and touched a finger to her lips and shook her head again, her eyes pleading with him.

"
Gomen nasai, wakarimasu ka?
" she breathed.

But he was concentrating on the wall of the adjoining room that he could smash in so easily.

She looked at the wall also, then put herself between him and the wall, and sat, motioning him to do the same.

But he could not.  He stood readying himself for the charge that would destroy them all, goaded by a whimper that followed another blow.

"
Iyé!
"  Fujiko shook in terror.

He waved her out of the way.

"
Iyé, iyé,
" she begged again.

"
IMA!
"

At once Fujiko got up and motioned him to wait as she rushed noiselessly for the swords that lay in front of the
takonama,
the little alcove of honor.  She picked up the long sword, her hands shaking, drew it out of the scabbard, and prepared to follow him through the wall.  At that instant there was a final blow and a rising torrent of rage.  The other shoji slammed open, and unseen, Buntaro stamped away, followed by the guard.  There was silence in the house for a moment, then the sound of the garden gate crashing closed.

Blackthorne went for his door.  Fujiko darted in the way but he shoved her aside and pulled it open.

Mariko was still on her knees in one corner of the next room, a livid welt on her cheek, her hair disheveled, her kimono in tatters, bad bruises on her thighs and lower back.

He rushed over to pick her up but she cried out, "Go away, please go away, Anjin-san!"