Shogun (The Asian Saga Chronology) (96 page)

"I've already made my position clear on that," Toranaga rapped, no longer amused.  "And you forget yourself."

Mariko said carelessly and happily, "I have to talk secrets today, Sire, because of the hostages.  They're a knife in your heart."

"What about them?"

"Be patient with me please Sire.  I may never be able to talk to you in what the Anjin-san would call an 'open English private way' ever again—you're never alone like we're alone now.  I beg you to excuse my bad manners."  Mariko gathered her wits and, astoundingly, continued to speak as an equal.  "My absolute opinion is that Naga-san was right.  You must become Shōgun,
or you will have failed in your duty to the Empire and to the Minowara.
"

"How dare you say such a thing!"

Mariko remained quite serene, his open anger touching her not at all.  "I counsel you to marry the Lady Ochiba.  It's eight years before Yaemon's old enough, legally, to inherit—that's an eternity!  Who knows what could happen in eight months, let alone eight years."

"Your whole family can be obliterated in eight days!"

"Yes, Sire.  But that has nothing to do with you and your duty, and the realm.  Naga-san's right.  You must take the power to give power."  With mock gravity she added breathlessly, "And now may your faithful counselor commit seppuku or should I do it later?" and she pretended to swoon.

Toranaga gawked at her incredible effrontery, then he roared with laughter and pounded his fist on the ground.  When he could talk, he choked out, "I'll never understand you, Mariko-san."

"Ah, but you do, Sire," she said, patting the perspiration off her forehead.  "You're kind to let this devoted vassal make you laugh, to listen to her requests, to say what must be said, had to be said.  Forgive me my impertinence, please."

"Why should I, eh?  Why?"  Toranaga smiled, genial now.

"Because of the hostages, Sire," she said simply.

"Ah, them!" He too became serious.

"Yes.  I must go to Osaka."

"Yes," he said.  "I know."

CHAPTER 38

Accompanied by Naga, Blackthorne trudged disconsolately down the hill toward the two figures who sat on the futons in the center of the ring of guards.  Beyond the guards were the rising foothills of the mountains that soared to a clouded sky.  The day was sultry.  His head was aching from the grief of the last few days, from worrying about Mariko, and from being unable to talk except in Japanese for so long.  Now he recognized her and some of his misery left him.

Many times he had gone to Omi's house to see Mariko or to inquire about her.  Samurai had always turned him away, politely but firmly.  Omi had told him as a
tomodashi,
a friend, that she was all right.  Don't worry, Anjin-san.  Do you understand?  Yes, he had said, understanding only that he could not see her.

Then he had been sent for by Toranaga and had wanted to tell him so much but because of his lack of words had failed to do anything other than irritate him.  Fujiko had gone several times to see Mariko.  When she came back she always said that Mariko was well, adding the inevitable, "
Shinpai suruna,
Anjin-san. 
Wakarimasu?
"  Don't worry—do you understand?

With Buntaro it had been as though nothing had ever happened.  They mouthed polite greetings when they met during the day.  Apart from occasionally using the bath house, Buntaro was like any other samurai in Anjiro, neither friendly nor unfriendly.

From dawn to dusk Blackthorne had been chased by the accelerated training.  He had had to suppress his frustration as he tried to teach, and strove to learn the language.  By nightfall he was always exhausted.  Hot and sweating and rain-soaked.  And alone.  Never had he felt so alone, so aware of not belonging in this alien world.

Then there was the horror that began three days ago.  It had been a very long humid day.  At sunset he had wearily ridden home and had instantly felt trouble permeating his house.  Fujiko had greeted him nervously.

"
Nan desu ka?
"

She had replied quietly, at length, eyes lowered.

"
Wakarimasen.
"  I don't understand.  "
Nan desu ka?
" he asked again, impatiently, his fatigue making him irritable.

Then she had beckoned him into the garden.  She pointed at the eaves but the roof seemed sound enough to him.  More words and signs and it finally dawned on him that she was pointing to where he had hung the pheasant.

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that! 
Watashi . . .
"  But he couldn't remember how to say it so he just shrugged wearily.  "
Wakarimasu.  Nan desu kiji ka?
"  I understand.  What about the pheasant?

Servants were peering at him from doors and windows, clearly petrified.  She spoke again.  He concentrated but her words did not make sense.

"
Wakarimasen,
Fujiko-san."  I don't understand, Fujiko-san.

She took a deep breath, then shakily imitated someone removing the pheasant, carrying it away, and burying it.

"Ahhhh! 
Wakarimasu,
Fujiko-san. 
Wakarimasu!
  Was it getting high?" he asked.  As he did not know the Japanese word he held his nose and pantomimed stench.

"
Hai, hai,
Anjin-san. 
Dozo gomen nasai, gomen nasai.
"  She made the sound of flies and, with her hands, painted a picture of a buzzing cloud.

"
Ah so desu!  Wakarimasu.
"  Once upon a time he would have apologized and, if he had known the words, he would have said, I'm so sorry for the inconvenience.  Instead he just shrugged, eased the ache in his back, and mumbled, "
Shigata ga nai,
" wanting only to slide into the ecstasy of the bath and massage, the only joy that made life possible.  "The hell with it," he said in English, turning away.  "If I'd been here during the day Id've noticed it.  The hell with it!"

"
Dozo,
Anjin-san?"

"
Shigata ga nai,
" he repeated louder.

"
Ah so desu, arigato goziemashita.
"

"
Tare toru desu ka?
"  Who took it?

"Ueki-ya."

"Oh, that old bugger!"  Ueki-ya, the gardener, the kind, toothless old man who tended the plants with loving hands and made his garden beautiful.  "
Yoi.  Moue kuru
Ueki-ya."  Good, fetch him.

Fujiko shook her head.  Her face had become chalky white.

"Ueki-ya
shinda desu, shinda desu!
" she whispered.

"Ueki-ya
ga shindato?  Donoyoni?  Doshité?  Doshité shindanoda?
"  How?  Why?  How did he die?

Her hand pointed at the place where the pheasant had been and she spoke many gentle incomprehensible words.  Then she mimed the single cut of a sword.

"
Jesus Christ God!
  You put that old man to death over a stinking, God-cursed pheasant?"

At once all the servants rushed to the garden and fell on their knees.  They put their heads into the dirt and froze, even the children of the cook.

"What the piss-hell's going on?" Blackthorne was almost berserk.

Fujiko waited stoically until they were all there, then she too went down on her knees and bowed, as a samurai and not as a peasant.  "
Gomen nasai, dozo gomen na—
"

"The pox on your
gomen nasai!
  What right've you to do that? 
Ehhhhh?
" and he began to swear at her foully.  "Why in the name of Christ didn't you ask me first? 
Eh?
"

He fought for control, aware that all of his servants knew he legally could hack Fujiko and all of them to pieces here in the garden for causing him so much displeasure, or for no reason at all, and that not even Toranaga himself could interfere with his handling of his own household.

He saw one of the children was trembling with terror and panic.  "Jesus Christ in heaven, give me strength . . ."  He held on to one of the posts to steady himself.  "It's not your fault," he choked out, not realizing he wasn't speaking Japanese.  "It's hers!  It's you!  You murdering bitch!"

Fujiko looked up slowly.  She saw the accusing finger and the hatred on his face.  She whispered a command to her maid, Nigatsu.

Nigatsu shook her head and began to beg.

"Ima!"

The maid fled.  She returned with the killing sword, tears streaming her face.  Fujiko took the sword and offered it to Blackthorne with both hands.  She spoke and though he did not know all the words he knew that she was saying, "I'm responsible, please take my life because I've displeasured you."

"
IYÉ!
"  He grabbed the sword and threw it away.  "You think that'll bring Ueki-ya back to life?"

Then, suddenly, he realized what he had done, and what he was doing now.  "Oh, Jesus God."

He left them.  In despair he went to the outcrop above the village near the shrine that was beside the ancient gnarled cypress tree and he wept.

He wept because a good man was dead unnecessarily and because he knew now that he had murdered him.  "Lord God forgive me.  I'm responsible—not Fujiko.  I killed him.  I ordered that no one was to touch the pheasant but me.  I asked her if everyone understood and she said yes.  I ordered it with mock gravity but that doesn't matter now.  I gave the orders, knowing their law and knowing their customs.  The old man broke my stupid order so what else could Fujiko-san do?  I'm to blame."

In time the tears were spent.  It was deep night now.  He returned to his house.

Fujiko was waiting for him as always, but alone.  The sword was across her lap.  She offered it to him.  "
Dozo—Dozo,
Anjin-san."

"
Iyé,
" he said, taking the sword as a sword should be taken.  "
Iyé,
Fujiko-san. 
Shigata ga nai, neh?  Karma, neh?
"  His hand touched her in apology.  He knew that she had had to bear all the worst of his stupidity.

Her tears spilled.  "
Arigato, arigato go—goziemashita,
Anjin-san," she said brokenly.  "
Gomen nasai . . .
"

His heart went out to her.

Yes, Blackthorne thought with great sadness, yes it did, but that doesn't excuse you or take away her humiliation—or bring Ueki-ya back to life.  You were to blame.  You should have known better. . . .

"Anjin-san!" Naga said.

"Yes?  Yes, Naga-san?"  He pulled himself out of his remorse and looked down at the youth who walked beside him.  "Sorry, what you say?"

"I said I hoped to be your friend."

"Ah, thank you."

"Yes, and perhaps you'd—"  There was a jumble of words Blackthorne did not understand.

"Please?"

"Teach,
neh?
  Understand 'teach'?  Teach about world?"

"Ah, yes, so sorry.  Teach what, please?"

"About foreign lands—outside lands.  The world,
neh?
"

"Ah, understand now.  Yes, try."

They were near the guards now.  "Begin tomorrow, Anjin-san.  Friends,
neh?
"

"Yes, Naga-san.  Try."

"Good."  Very satisfied, Naga nodded.  When they came up to the samurai Naga ordered them out of the way, motioning Blackthorne to go on alone.  He obeyed, feeling very alone in the circle of men.

"
Ohayo,
Toranaga-sama. 
Ohayo,
Mariko-san," he said, joining them.

"
Ohayo,
Anjin-san. 
Dozo suwaru.
"  Good day, Anjin-san, please sit down.

Mariko smiled at him.  "
Ohayo,
Anjin-san. 
Ikaga desu ka?
"

"
Yoi, domo.
"  Blackthorne looked back at her, so glad to see her.  "Thy presence fills me with joy, great joy," he said in Latin.

"And thine—it is so good to see thee.  But there is a shadow on thee.  Why?"

"
Nan ja?
" Toranaga asked.

She told him what had been said.  Toranaga grunted, then spoke.

"My Master says you're looking careworn, Anjin-san.  I must agree too.  He asks what's troubling you."

"It's nothing. 
Domo,
Toranaga-sama. 
Nané mo.
"  It's nothing.

"
Nan ja?
" Toranaga asked directly.  "
Nan ja?
"

Obediently Blackthorne replied at once.  "Ueki-ya," he said helplessly.  "
Hai,
Ueki-ya."

"
Ah so desu!
"  Toranaga spoke at length to Mariko.

"My Master says there is no need to be sad about Old Gardener.  He asks me to tell you that it was all officially dealt with.  Old Gardener understood completely what he was doing."

"I don't understand."

"Yes, it would be very difficult for you, but you see, Anjin-san, the pheasant was rotting in the sun.  Flies were swarming terribly.  Your health, your consort's health, and that of your whole house was being threatened.  Also, so sorry, there had been some very private, cautious complaints from Omi-san's head servant—and others.  One of our most important rules is that the individual may never disturb the
wa,
the harmony of the group, remember?  So something had to be done.  You see, decay, the stench of decay, is revolting to us.  It's the worst smell in the world to us, so sorry.  I tried to tell you but—well, it's one of the things that sends us all a little mad.  Your head servant—"

"Why didn't someone come to me at once?  Why didn't someone just tell me?" Blackthorne asked.  "The pheasant was meaningless to me."

"What was there to tell?  You'd given orders.  You are head of the house.  They didn't know your customs or what to do, other than to solve the dilemma according to our custom."  She spoke to Toranaga for a moment, explaining what Blackthorne had said, then turned back again.  "Is this distressing you?  Do you wish me to continue?"

"Yes, please, Mariko-san."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Well then, your head servant, Small Tooth Cook, called a meeting of your servants, Anjin-san.  Mura, the village headman, was asked to attend officially.  It was decided that village
eta
could not be asked to take it away.  This was only a house problem.  One of the servants had to take it and bury it, even though you'd given absolute orders it was not to be moved.  Obviously your consort was duty bound to see your orders were obeyed.  Old Gardener asked to be allowed to carry it away.  Lately he'd been living and sleeping in great pain from his abdomen and he found kneeling and weeding and planting very tiring, and could not do his work to his own satisfaction.  Third Cook Assistant also offered, saying he was very young and stupid and he was sure his life counted for nothing against such a grave matter.  At length Old Gardener was allowed the honor.  Truly it was a great honor, Anjin-san.  With great solemnity they all bowed to him and he to them and happily he took the thing away and buried it to the great relief of all.