Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [114]
“Iyé,” the old man said, shaking his head, a smile on his face, and pushed the bowl back into the man’s hands.
“Iyé Farddah-sama.”
The priest allowed himself to be persuaded and ate a little, then got up, his joints creaking, and handed his bowl to one of those in the middle row. This man touched the priest’s hand to his forehead and he was blessed.
“I’m so pleased to see another of my own kind,” the priest said, sitting beside Blackthorne again, his peasant voice thick and sibilant. He pointed weakly to the other end of the cell block. “One of my flock said the señor used the word ‘pilot,’ ‘anjin’? The señor is a pilot?”
“Yes.”
“There are others of the señor’s crew here?”
“No, I’m alone. Why are you here?”
“If the señor is alone—the señor came from Manila?”
“No. I’ve never been to Asia before,” Blackthorne said carefully, his Spanish excellent. “This was my first voyage as pilot. I was … I was outward bound. Why are you here?”
“Jesuits put me here, my son. Jesuits and their filthy lies. The señor was outward bound? Thou art not Spanish, no—nor Portuguese …” The monk peered at him suspiciously and Blackthorne was surrounded by his reeking breath. “Was the ship Portuguese? Tell the truth, before God!”
“No, Father. It was not Portuguese. Before God!”
“Oh, Blessed Virgin, thank you! Please forgive me, señor. I was afraid—I’m old and stupid and diseased. Thy ship was Spanish out of where? I’m so glad—where is the señor from originally? Spanish Flanders? Or the Duchy of Brandenburg perhaps? Some part of our dominions in Germania? Oh, it’s so good to talk my blessed mother tongue again! Was the señor shipwrecked like us? Then foully thrown into this jail, falsely accused by those devil Jesuits? May God curse them and show them the error of their treachery!” His eyes glittered fiercely. “The señor said he has never been to Asia before?”
“No.”
“If the señor has never been to Asia before, then he will be like a child in the wilderness. Yes, there’s so much to tell! Does the señor know that Jesuits are merely traders, gun runners, and usurers? That they control all the silk trade here, all trade with China? That the annual Black Ship is worth a million in gold? That they’ve forced His Holiness, the Pope, to grant them total power over Asia—them and their dogs, the Portuguese? That all other religious are forbidden here? That Jesuits deal in gold, buying and selling for profit—for themselves and the heathen—against the direct orders of His Holiness, Pope Clement, of King Philip, and against the laws of this land? That they secretly smuggled guns into Japan for Christian kings here, inciting them to rebellion? That they meddle in politics and pimp for the kings, lie and cheat and bear false witness against us! That their Father Superior himself sent a secret message to our Spanish Viceroy in Luzon asking him for conquistadores to conquer the land—they begged for a Spanish invasion to cover more Portuguese mistakes. All our troubles can be put at their threshold, señor. It’s the Jesuits who have lied and cheated and spread poison against Spain and our beloved King Philip! Their lies put me here and caused twenty-six Holy Fathers to be martyred! They think that just because I was a peasant once, I don’t understand … but I can read and write, señor, I can read and write! I was one of his Excellency’s secretaries, the Viceroy. They think we Franciscans don’t understand …” At this point he broke into another ranting jumble of Spanish and Latin.
Blackthorne’s spirit had been revived, his curiosity agog with what the priest had said. What guns? What gold? What trade? What Black Ship? A million? What invasion? What Christian kings?
Aren’t you cheating the poor sick man? he asked himself. He thinks you’re friend, not enemy.
I haven’t lied to him.
But haven’t you implied you’re friend?
I answered him directly.
But you volunteered nothing?
No.
Is that fair?
That