Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [170]
The stark candlelight had flickered across her face. She was one of the most beautiful women in the land. Involuntarily he had made the sign of the cross against her evil.
Her laugh was chilling. “Go away, priest, and never come back. Your days are numbered!”
“No more than yours. I am in the hands of God, Lady. Better you take heed of Him, Eternal Salvation can be yours if you believe.”
“Eh? You’re in the hands of God? The Christian God, neh? Perhaps you are. Perhaps not. What will you do, priest, if when you’re dead you discover there is no God, that there’s no hell and your Eternal Salvation just a dream within a dream?”
“I believe! I believe in God and in the Resurrection and in the Holy Ghost!” he said aloud. “The Christian promises are true. They’re true, they’re true—I believe!”
“Nan ja, Tsukku-san?”
For a moment he only heard the Japanese and it had no meaning for him.
Toranaga was standing in the doorway surrounded by his guards.
Father Alvito bowed, collecting himself, sweat on his back and face. “I am sorry to have come uninvited. I—I was just daydreaming. I was remembering that I’ve had the good fortune to witness so many things here in Japan. My whole life seems to have been here and nowhere else.”
“That’s been our gain, Tsukku-san.”
Toranaga walked tiredly to the dais and sat on the simple cushion. Silently the guards arranged themselves in a protective screen.
“You arrived here in the third year of Tenshō, didn’t you?”
“No, Sire, it was the fourth. The Year of the Rat,” he replied, using their counting, which had taken him months to understand. All the years were measured from a particular year that was chosen by the ruling Emperor. A catastrophe or a godsend might end an era or begin one, at his whim. Scholars were ordered to select a name of particularly good omen from the ancient books of China for the new era which might last a year or fifty years. Tenshō meant “Heaven Righteousness.” The previous year had been the time of the great tidal wave when two hundred thousand had died. And each year was given a number as well as a name—one of the same succession as the hours of the day: Hare, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Cock, Dog, Boar, Rat, Ox and Tiger. The first year of Tenshō had fallen in the Year of the Cock, so it followed that 1576 was the Year of the Rat in the Fourth Year of Tenshō.
“Much has happened in those twenty-four years, neh, old friend?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Yes. The rise of Goroda and his death. The rise of the Taikō and his death. And now?” The words ricocheted off the walls.
“That is in the hands of the Infinite.” Alvito used a word that could mean God, and also could mean Buddha.
“Neither the Lord Goroda nor the Lord Taikō believed in any gods, or any Infinite.”
“Didn’t the Lord Buddha say there are many paths to nirvana, Sire?”
“Ah, Tsukku-san, you’re a wise man. How is someone so young so wise?”
“I wish sincerely I was, Sire. Then I could be of more help.”
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. I thought it important enough to come uninvited.”
Alvito took out Blackthorne’s rutters and placed them on the floor in front of him, giving the explanations dell’Aqua had suggested. He saw Toranaga’s face harden and he was glad of it.
“Proof of his piracy?”
“Yes, Sire. The rutters even contain the exact words of their orders, which include: ‘if necessary to land in force and claim any territory reached or discovered.’ If you wish I can make an exact translation of all the pertinent passages.”
“Make a translation of everything. Quickly,” Toranaga said.
“There’s something else the Father-Visitor thought you should know.” Alvito told Toranaga everything about the maps and reports and the Black Ship as had been arranged, and he was delighted to see the pleased reaction.
“Excellent,” Toranaga said. “Are you sure the Black Ship will be early? Absolutely sure?”
“Yes,” Alvito answered firmly. Oh, God, let it happen as we hope!
“Good. Tell your liege lord that I look forward to reading his reports. Yes. I imagine it will take some months for him to obtain