Shogun (40 page)

Blackthorne saw an immediate reaction on her face, and when she translated, on Toranaga’s face. Give her time, and keep it simple, he warned himself.

“Japanese troops? You mean samurai?”

“Ronin
would describe them, I imagine.”

“You said a ‘secret’ map? My Lord wishes to know how you obtained it.”

“A man named Pieter Suyderhof, from Holland, was the private secretary to the Primate of Goa—that’s the title of the chief Catholic priest and Goa’s the capital of Portuguese India. You know, of course, that the Portuguese are trying to take over that continent by force. As private secretary to this archbishop, who was also the Portuguese Viceroy at the time, all sorts of documents passed through his hands. After many years he obtained some of their rutters—maps—and copied them. These gave the secrets of the way through Magellan’s Pass and also how to get around the Cape of Good Hope, and the shoals and reefs from Goa to Japan via Macao. My rutter was the Magellan one. It was with my papers that I lost from my ship. They are vital to me, and could be of immense value to Lord Toranaga.”

“My Master says that he has sent orders to seek them. Continue please.”

“When Suyderhof returned to Holland, he sold them to the Company of East India Merchants, which was given the monopoly for Far Eastern exploration.”

She was looking at him coldly. “This man was a paid spy?”

“He was paid for his maps, yes. That’s their custom, that’s how they reward a man. Not with a title or land, only money. Holland’s a republic. Of course, senhora, my country and our allies, Holland, are at war with Spain and Portugal and have been for years. You’ll understand, senhora, in war it’s vital to find out your enemies’ secrets.”

Mariko turned and spoke at length.

“My Lord says, why would this archbishop employ an enemy?”

“The story Pieter Suyderhof told was that this archbishop, who was a Jesuit, was interested only in trade. Suyderhof doubled their revenue, so he was ‘cherished.’ He was an extremely clever merchant—Hollanders are usually superior to Portuguese in this—so his credentials weren’t checked very closely. Also many men with blue eyes and fair hair, Germans and other Europeans, are Catholic.” Blackthorne waited till that was translated, then added carefully, “He was chief spy for Holland in Asia, a soldier of the country, and he put some of his people on Portuguese ships. Please tell Lord Toranaga that without Japan’s trade, Portuguese India cannot live for long.”

Toranaga kept his eyes on the map while Mariko talked. There was no reaction to what she had said. Blackthorne wondered if she had translated everything.

Then: “My Master would like a detailed world map, on paper, as soon as possible, with all the Portuguese bases marked, and the numbers of
ronin
at each. He says please continue.”

Blackthorne knew he had made a giant step forward. But the boy yawned so he decided to change course, still heading for the same harbor. “Our world is not always as it seems. For instance, south of this line, we call it the Equator, the seasons are reversed. When we have summer, they have winter; when we have summer, they’re freezing.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know, but it’s true. Now, the way to Japan is through either of these two southern straits. We English, we’re trying to find a northern route, either northeast over the Siberias, or northwest over the Americas. I’ve been as far north as this. The whole land’s perpetual ice and snow here and it’s so cold most of the year that if you don’t wear fur mittens, your fingers’ll freeze in moments. The people who live there are called Laplanders. Their clothes are made out of fur pelts. The men hunt and the women do all the work. Part of the women’s work is to make all the clothes. To do this, most times they have to chew the pelts to soften them before they can stitch them.”

Mariko laughed out loud.

Blackthorne smiled with her, feeling more confident now. “It’s true, senhora. It’s
honto.”

“Sorewa honto desu ka?”
Toranaga asked impatiently. What’s true?

Through more laughter, she told him what had been said. They also began to laugh.

“I lived among them for almost a year. We were trapped in the ice and had to wait for the thaw. Their food is fish, seals, occasionally polar bears, and whales, which they eat raw. Their greatest delicacy is to eat raw whale blubber.”

“Oh, come now, Anjin-san!”

“It’s true. And they live in small round houses made entirely out of snow and they never bathe.”

“What, never?” she burst out.

He shook his head, and decided not to tell her baths were rare in England, rarer even than in Portugal and Spain, which were warm countries.

She translated this. Toranaga shook his head in disbelief.

“My Master says this is too much of an exaggeration. No one could live without baths. Even uncivilized people.”

“That’s the truth—
honto,”
he said calmly and raised his hand. “I swear by Jesus of Nazareth and by my soul, I swear it is the truth.”

She watched him in silence. “Everything?”

“Yes. Lord Toranaga wanted the truth. Why should I lie? My life is in his hands. It is easy to prove the truth—no to be honest, it would be very hard to prove what I’ve said—you’d have to go there and see for yourself. Certainly the Portuguese and Spanish, who are my enemies, won’t support me. But Lord Toranaga asked for the truth. He can trust me to tell it to him.”

Mariko thought a moment. Then she scrupulously translated what he had said. At length:

“Lord Toranaga says, it is unbelievable that any human could live without bathing.”

“Yes. But those are the cold lands. Their habits are different from yours, and mine. For instance, in my country, everyone believes baths are dangerous for your health. My grandmother, Granny Jacoba, used to say, ‘A bath when you’re birthed and another when laid out’ll see thee through the Pearly Gates.’”

“That’s very hard to believe.”

“Some of your customs are very hard to believe. But it is true that I’ve had more baths in the short time I’ve been in your country than in as many years before. I admit freely I feel better for them.” He grinned. “I no longer believe baths are dangerous. So I’ve gained by coming here, no?”

After a pause Mariko said, “Yes,” and translated.

Kiri said, “He’s astonishing—astonishing,
neh?”

“What’s your judgment of him, Mariko-san?” Toranaga asked.

“I’m convinced he’s telling the truth, or believes he’s telling it. Clearly it would seem that he could, perhaps, have a great value to you, my Lord. We have such a tiny knowledge of the outside world. Is that valuable to you? I don’t know. But it’s almost as though he’s come down from the stars, or up from under the sea. If he’s enemy to the Portuguese and the Spanish, then his information, if it can be trusted, could perhaps be vital to your interests,
neh?”

“I agree,” Kiri said.

“What do you think, Yaemon-sama?”

“Me, Uncle? Oh, I think he’s ugly and I don’t like his golden hair and cat’s eyes and he doesn’t look human at all,” the boy said breathlessly. “I’m glad I wasn’t born barbarian like him but samurai like my father, can we go for another swim, please?”

“Tomorrow, Yaemon,” Toranaga said, vexed at not being able to talk directly to the pilot.

While they talked among themselves Blackthorne decided that the time had come. Then Mariko turned to him again.

“My Master asks why were you in the north?”

“I was pilot of a ship. We were trying to find a northeast passage, senhora. Many things I can tell you will sound laughable, I know,” he began. “For instance, seventy years ago the kings of Spain and Portugal signed a solemn treaty that split ownership of the New World, the undiscovered world, between them. As your country falls in the Portuguese half, officially your country belongs to Portugal—Lord Toranaga, you, everyone, this castle and everything in it were given to Portugal.”

“Oh, please, Anjin-san. Pardon me, that’s nonsense!”

“I agree their arrogance is unbelievable. But it’s true.” Immediately she began to translate and Toranaga laughed derisively.

“Lord Toranaga says he could equally well split the heavens between himself and the Emperor of China,
neh?”

“Please tell Lord Toranaga, I’m sorry, but that’s not the same,” Blackthorne said, aware that he was on dangerous ground. “This is
written into legal documents which give each king the right to claim any non-Catholic land discovered by their subjects and to stamp out the existing government and replace it with Catholic rule.” On the map, his finger traced a line north to south that bisected Brazil. “Everything east of this line is Portugal’s, everything west is Spain’s. Pedro Cabral discovered Brazil in 1500, so now Portugal owns Brazil, has stamped out the native culture and legal rulers, and has become rich from the gold and silver taken out of mines and plundered from native temples. All the rest of the Americas so far discovered is Spanish-owned now—Mexico, Peru, almost this whole south continent. They’ve wiped out the Inca nations, obliterated their culture, and enslaved hundreds of thousands of them. The conquistadores have modern guns—the natives none. With the conquistadores come the priests. Soon a few princes are converted, and enmities used. Then prince is turned against prince and realm swallowed up piecemeal. Now Spain is the richest nation in our world from the Inca and Mexican gold and silver they’ve plundered and sent back to Spain.”

Mariko was solemn now. She had quickly grasped the significance of Blackthorne’s lesson. And so had Toranaga.

“My Master says this is a worthless conversation. How could they give themselves such rights?”

“They didn’t,” Blackthorne said gravely. “The Pope gave them the rights, the Vicar of Christ on earth himself. In return for spreading the word of God.”

“I don’t believe it,” she exclaimed.

“Please translate what I said, senhora. It is
honto.”

She obeyed and spoke at length, obviously unsettled. Then:

“My Master—my Master says you are—you are just trying to poison him against your enemies. What is the truth? On your own life, senhor.”

“Pope Alexander VI set the first line of demarcation in 1493,” Blackthorne commenced, blessing Alban Caradoc who had hammered so many facts into him when he was young, and Father Domingo for informing him about Japanese pride and giving him clues to Japanese minds. “In 1506 Pope Julius II sanctioned changes to the Treaty of Tordesillas, signed by Spain and Portugal in 1494, which altered the line a little. Pope Clement VII sanctioned the Treaty of Saragossa in 1529, barely seventy years ago, which drew a second line here”—his finger traced a line of longitude in the sand which cut through the
tip of southern Japan. “This gives Portugal the exclusive right to your country, all these countries—from Japan, China to Africa—in the way I have said. To exploit exclusively—
by any means
—in return for spreading Catholicism.” Again he waited and the woman hesitated, in turmoil, and he could feel Toranaga’s growing irritation at having to wait for her to translate.

Mariko forced her lips to speak and repeated what he had said. Then she listened to Blackthorne again, detesting what she heard. Is this really possible? she asked herself. How could His Holiness say such things? Give our country to the Portuguese? It must be a lie. But the pilot swore by the Lord Jesus.

“The pilot says, Lord,” she began, “in—in the days that these decisions were made by His Holiness the Pope, all their world, even the Anjin-san’s country was Catholic Christian. The schism had not—not yet occurred. So, so these—these papal decisions would, of course, be binding on—on all nations. Even so, he adds that though the Portuguese have exclusivity to
exploit
Japan, Spain and Portugal are quarreling incessantly about the
ownership
because of the richness of our trade with China.”

“What’s your opinion, Kiri-san?” Toranaga said, as shocked as the others. Only the boy toyed with his fan uninterestedly.

“He believes he’s telling the truth,” Kiri said. “Yes, I think that. But how to prove it—or part of it?”

“How would you prove it, Mariko-san?” Toranaga asked, most perturbed by Mariko’s reaction to what had been said, but very glad that he had agreed to use her as interpreter.

“I would ask Father Tsukku-san,” she said. “Then, too, I would send someone—a trusted vassal—out into the world to see. Perhaps with the Anjin-san.”

Kiri said, “If the priest does not support these statements, it may not necessarily mean this Anjin-san is lying,
neh?”
Kiri was pleased that she had suggested using Mariko as an interpreter when Toranaga was seeking an alternative to Tsukku-san. She knew Mariko was to be trusted and that, once Mariko had sworn by her alien God, she would ever be silent under rigorous questioning by any Christian priest. The less those devils know, the better, Kiri thought. And what a treasue of knowledge this barbarian has!

Kiri saw the boy yawn again and was glad of it. The less the child understands the better, she told herself. Then she said, “Why not
send for the leader of the Christian priests and ask about these facts? See what he says. Their faces are open, mostly, and they have almost no subtlety.”

Toranaga nodded, his eyes on Mariko. “From what you know about the Southern Barbarians, Mariko-san, would you say that a Pope’s orders would be obeyed?”

“Without doubt.”

“His orders would be considered as though the voice of the Christian God was speaking?”

“Yes.”

“Would all Catholic Christians obey his orders?”

“Yes.”

“Even our Christians here?”

“I would think, yes.”

“Even you?”

“Yes, Sire. If it was a direct order from His Holiness to me personally. Yes, for my soul’s salvation.” Her gaze was firm. “But until that time I will obey no man but my liege lord, the head of my family, or my husband. I am Japanese, a Christian yes, but first I am samurai.”

“I think it would be good then, that this Holiness stays away from our shores.” Toranaga thought for a moment. Then he decided what to do with the barbarian, Anjin-san. “Tell him …” He stopped. All their eyes went to the path and to the elderly woman who approached. She wore the cowled habit of a Buddhist nun. Four Grays were with her. The Grays stopped and she came on alone.