Shogun (105 page)

“What is it?” Gyoko asked narrowly.

“Nothing, Mama-san. Anjin-san,” Kiku called out gaily, “so sorry, would you like cha?”

“Yes, please.”

“It will be here at once,” Gyoko said. “Ako! Hurry up, child.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Ako brought in the tray of tea and two cups and poured, and Gyoko left, again apologizing for disturbing him.

Kiku gave Blackthorne the cup herself. He drank it thirstily, then she helped him to dress. Ako laid out a fresh kimono for her. Kiku was most attentive but she was consumed with the knowledge that soon she would have to accompany the Anjin-san outside the gateway to bow him homeward. It was good manners. More than that, it was her privilege and duty. Only courtesans of the First Rank were ever allowed to go beyond the threshold to bestow that rare honor; all others had to stay within the courtyard. It was unthinkable for her not to finish the night as was expected—that would be a terrible insult to her guest and yet …

For the first time in her life, Kiku did not wish to bow one guest homeward in front of another guest.

I can’t, not the Anjin-san in front of Omi-san.

Why? she asked herself. Is it because the Anjin-san’s barbarian and you’re ashamed that all the world will know you’ve been possessed by a barbarian? No. All Anjiro knows already and a man is like any other, most of the time. This man is samurai, hatamoto, and Admiral of Lord Toranaga’s ships! No, nothing like that.

What is it then?

It’s because I found in the night that I was shamed by what Omi-san did to him. As we should all be shamed. Omi-san should never have done that. The Anjin-san is branded and my fingers seemed to feel the brand through the silk of his kimono. I burn with shame for him, a good man to whom that should not have been done.

Am I defiled?

No, of course not, just shamed before him. And shamed before Omi-san for being ashamed.

Then in the reaches of her mind she heard Mama-san saying again, ‘Child, child, leave man things to men. Laughter is our balm against them, and the world and the gods and even old age.’

“Kiku-san?”

“Yes, Anjin-san?”

“Now I go.”

“Yes. Let us go together,” she said.

He took her face tenderly in his rough hands and kissed her. “Thank you. No words enough to thank.”

“It is I who should thank you. Please allow me to thank you, Anjin-san. Let us leave now.”

She allowed Ako to put the finishing touches to her hair, which she left hanging loosely, tied the sash of the fresh kimono, and went with him.

Kiku walked beside him as was her privilege, not a few steps behind as a wife or consort or daughter or servant was obliged to. He put his hand on her shoulder momentarily and this was distasteful to her for they were not in the privacy of a room. Then she had a sudden, horrible premonition that he would kiss her publicly—which Mariko had mentioned was barbarian custom—at the gate. Oh, Buddha let that not happen, she thought, almost faint with fright.

His swords were in the reception room. By custom, all weapons were left under guard, outside the pleasure rooms, to avoid lethal quarrels with other clients, and also to prevent any lady from ending her life. Not all Ladies of the Willow World were happy or fortunate.

Blackthorne put his swords into his sash. Kiku bowed him through to the veranda, where he stepped into his thongs, Gyoko and others assembled to bow him away, an honored guest. Beyond the gateway was the village square and the sea. Many samurai were there milling about, Buntaro among them. Kiku could not see Omi, though she was certain he would be watching somewhere.

The Anjin-san seemed immensely tall, she so small beside him. Now they were crossing the courtyard. Both saw Omi at the same time. He was standing near the gateway.

Blackthorne stopped. “Morning, Omi-san,” he said as a friend and bowed as a friend, not knowing that Omi and Kiku were more than friends. How could he know, she thought. No one has told him—why should they tell him? And what does that matter anyway?

“Good morning, Anjin-san.” Omi’s voice was friendly too, but
she saw him bow with only sufficient politeness. Then his jet eyes turned to her again and she bowed, her smile perfect. “Good morning, Omi-san. This house is honored.”

“Thank you, Kiku-san. Thank you.”

She felt his searching gaze but pretended not to notice, keeping her eyes demurely lowered. Gyoko and the maids and the courtesans who were free watched from the veranda.

“I go fortress, Omi-san,” Blackthorne was saying. “All’s well?”

“Yes. Lord Toranaga’s sent for you.”

“Go now. Hope see you soon.”

“Yes.”

Kiku glanced up. Omi was still staring at her. She smiled her best smile and looked at the Anjin-san. He was watching Omi intently; then feeling her eyes, he turned to her and smiled back. It seemed to her a strained smile. “So sorry, Kiku-san, Omi-san, must go now.” He bowed to Omi. It was returned. He went through the gate. She followed, hardly breathing. Movement stopped in the square. In the silence she saw him turn back, and for a hideous moment, she knew he was going to embrace her. But to her enormous relief he did not, and just stood there waiting as a civilized person would wait.

She bowed with all the tenderness she could muster, Omi’s gaze boring into her.

“Thank you, Anjin-san,” she said and smiled at him alone. A sigh went through the square. “Thank you,” then added the time-honored, “Please visit us again. I will count the moments until we meet again.”

He bowed with just the right amount of carelessness, strode off arrogantly as a samurai of quality would. Then, because he had treated her very correctly, and to repay Omi for the unnecessary coldness in his bow, instead of going back into her house at once, she stayed where she was and looked after the Anjin-san to give him greater honor. She waited until he was at the last corner. She saw him look back. He waved once. She bowed very low now delighted with the attention in the square, pretending not to notice it. And only when he was truly gone did she walk back. With pride and with great elegance. And until the gate was closed every man watched her, feeding on such beauty, envious of the Anjin-san, who must be much man for her to wait like that.

“You’re so pretty,” Omi said.

“I wish that were true, Omi-san,” she said with a second-best smile. “Would you like some cha, Omi-sama? Or food?”

“With you, yes.”

Gyoko joined them unctuously. “Please excuse my bad manners, Omi-sama. Do take food with us now, please. Have you had a first meal?”

“No—not yet, but I’m not hungry.” Omi glanced across at Kiku. “Have you eaten yet?”

Gyoko interrupted expansively, “Allow us to bring you something that won’t be too inadequate, Omi-sama. Kiku-san, when you’ve changed you will join us,
neh?”

“Of course, please excuse me, Omi-sama, for appearing like this. So sorry.” The girl ran off, pretending a happiness she did not feel, Ako in tow.

Omi said shortly, “I would like to be with her tonight, for food and entertainment.”

“Of course, Omi-sama,” Gyoko replied with a low bow, knowing that she would not be free. “You honor my house and do us too much honor. Kiku-san is so fortunate that you favor her.”

Three thousand koku? Toranaga was scandalized.

“Yes, Sire,” Mariko said. They were on the private veranda in the fortress. Rain had begun already but did not reduce the heat of the day. She felt listless and very tired and longed for autumn coolness. “I’m sorry, but I could not negotiate the woman down any further. I talked until just before dawn. So sorry, Sire, but you did order me to conclude an arrangement last night.”

“But three thousand, Mariko-san! That’s usury!” Actually, Toranaga was glad to have a new problem to take his mind away from the worry that beset him. The Christian priest Tsukku-san traveling with Zataki, the upstart Regent, augured nothing but trouble. He had examined every avenue of escape, every route of retreat and attack that any man could imagine and the answer was always the same: If Ishido moves quickly, I’m lost.

I’ve got to find time. But how?

If I were Ishido I’d start now, before the rains stop.

I’d get men into position just as the Taikō and I did to destroy the Beppu. The same plan will always win—it’s so simple! Ishido can’t be so stupid as not to see that the only real way to defend the Kwanto is to own Osaka, and all the lands between Yedo and Osaka. As long as Osaka’s unfriendly, the Kwanto’s in danger. The Taikō knew it,
why else did he give it to me? Without Kiyama, Onoshi, and the barbarian priests….

With an effort Toranaga put tomorrow into its own compartment and concentrated totally on this impossible amount of money. “Three thousand koku’s out of the question!”

“I agree, Sire. You’re correct. It’s my fault entirely. I thought even five hundred would be excessive but the Gyoko woman would come no lower. There is one concession though.”

“What?”

“Gyoko begged the honor of reducing the price to two thousand five hundred koku if you would honor her by agreeing to see her privately for one stick of time.”

“A Mama-san would give up five hundred koku just to speak to me?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“She told me her reason, Sire, but humbly begged that she be allowed to explain to you herself. I believe her proposal would be interesting to you, Sire. And five hundred koku … it would be a saving. I’m appalled that I couldn’t make a better arrangement, even though Kiku-san is of the First Rank and completely merits that status. I know I’ve failed you.”

“I agree,” Toranaga said sourly. “Even one thousand would be too much. This is Izu not Kyoto!”

“You’re quite right, Sire. I told the woman that the price was so ridiculous I could not possibly agree to it myself, even though you’d given me direct orders to complete the bargain last night. I hope you will forgive my disobedience, but I said that I would first have to consult with Lady Kasigi, Omi-san’s mother, who’s the most senior lady here, before the arrangement was confirmed.”

Toranaga brightened, his other worries forgotten. “Ah, so it’s arranged but not arranged?”

“Yes, Sire. Nothing is binding until I can consult with the Lady. I said I’d give an answer at noon today. Please forgive my disobedience.”

“You should have concluded the arrangement as I ordered!” Toranaga was secretly delighted that Mariko had cleverly given him the opportunity to agree or disagree without any loss of face. It would have been unthinkable for him personally to quibble over a mere
matter of money. But
oh ko
, three thousand koku…. “You say the girl’s contract’s worth enough rice to feed a thousand families for three years?”

“Worth every grain of rice, to the right man.”

Toranaga eyed her shrewdly. “Oh? Tell me about her and what happened.”

She told him everything—except her feeling for the Anjin-san and the depth of his feeling toward her. Or about Kiku’s offer to her.

“Good. Yes, very good. That was clever. Yes,” Toranaga said. “He must have pleased her very much for her to stand at the gateway like that the first time.” Most of Anjiro had been waiting for that moment, to see how the two of them would act, the barbarian and the Willow Lady of the First Rank.

“Yes.”

“The three koku invested was well worth it for him. His fame will run before him now.”

“Yes,” Mariko agreed, more than a little proud of Blackthorne’s success. “She’s an exceptional lady, Sire.”

Toranaga was intrigued by Mariko’s confidence in her arrangement. But five hundred koku for the contract would have been more fair. Five hundred koku was more than most Mama-sans made in a lifetime, so for one of them even to consider giving away five hundred…. “Worth every grain, you say? I can hardly believe that.”

“To the right man, Sire. I believe that. But I could not judge who would be the right man.”

There was a knock on the shoji.

“Yes?”

“The Anjin-san’s at the main gate, Sire.”

“Bring him here.”

“Yes, Sire.”

Toranaga fanned himself. He had been watching Mariko covertly and had seen the momentary light in her face. He had deliberately not warned her that he had sent for him.

What to do? Everything that is planned still applies. But now I need Buntaro and the Anjin-san and Omi-san more than ever. And Mariko, very much.

“Good morning, Toranaga-sama.”

He returned Blackthorne’s bow and noted the sudden warmth when the man saw Mariko. There were formal greetings and replies, then
he said, “Mariko-san, tell him that he is to leave with me at dawn. You also. You will continue on to Osaka.”

A chill went through her. “Yes, Sire.”

“I go Osaka, Toranaga-sama?” Blackthorne asked.

“No, Anjin-san. Mariko-san, tell him I’m going to the Shuzenji Spa for a day or two. You both will accompany me there. You’ll go on to Osaka. He will journey with you to the border, then go on to Yedo alone.”

He watched them narrowly as Blackthorne spoke to her, rapidly and urgently.

“So sorry, Toranaga-sama, but the Anjin-san humbly asks if he could borrow me for a few more days. He says, please excuse me, that my presence with him would greatly speed up the matter of his ship. Then, if it pleases you, he would immediately take one of your coastal ships and ferry me to Osaka, going on to Nagasaki himself. He suggests this might save time.”

“I haven’t decided anything about his ship, yet. Or about a crew. He may not need to go to Nagasaki. Make that very clear. No, nothing is decided. But I’ll consider the request about you. You’ll get my decision tomorrow. You can go now…. Oh yes, lastly, Mariko-san, tell him that I want his genealogy. He can write it down and you’ll translate it, affirming its correctness.”

“Yes, Sire. Do you want it at once?”

“No. When he arrives at Yedo will be time enough.”

Mariko explained to Blackthorne.

“Why does he want that?” he asked.

Mariko stared at him. “Of course all samurai have to have their births and deaths recorded, Anjin-san, as well as their fiefs and land grants. How else can a liege lord keep everything balanced? Isn’t it the same in your country? Here, by law, all our citizens are in official records, even
eta:
births, deaths, marriages. Every hamlet or village or city street has its official scroll. How else can you be sure where and to whom you belong?”