Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [182]
“With great deference, Yabu-san, we will wait. I’m charged to deliver you all safely to the galley. As one party,” the captain told him.
They all looked down as Blackthorne choked slightly on the wine. “Thanks,” he croaked. “Are we safe now? Who else knows that—”
“You’re safe now!” she interrupted deliberately. She had her back to the captain and she cautioned him with her eyes. “Anjin-san, you’re safe now and there’s no need to worry. Do you understand? You had some kind of fit. Just look around—you’re safe now!”
Blackthorne did as she ordered. He saw the captain and the Grays and understood. His strength was returning quickly now, helped by the wine. “Sorry, senhora. It was just panic, I think. I must be getting old. I go mad often and can never remember afterwards what happened. Speaking Portuguese is exhausting, isn’t it?” He switched to Latin. “Canst thou understand?”
“Assuredly.”
“Is this tongue ‘easier’?”
“Perhaps,” she said, relieved that he understood the need for caution, even using Latin, which was to Japanese an almost incomprehensible and unlearnable language except to a handful of men in the Empire, all of whom would be Jesuit trained and most committed to the priesthood. She was the only woman in all their world who could speak and read and write Latin and Portuguese. “Both languages are difficult, each hath dangers.”
“Who else knoweth the ‘dangers’?”
“My husband and he who leads us.”
“Art thou sure?”
“Both indicated thusly.”
The captain of Grays shifted restlessly and said something to Mariko.
“He asks if thou art yet dangerous, if thy hands and feet should be restrained. I said no. Thou art cured of thy palsy now.”
“Yes,” he said, lapsing back into Portuguese. “I have fits often. If someone hits me in the face it sends me mad. I’m sorry. Never can remember what happens during them. It’s the Finger of God.” He saw that the captain was concentrating on his lips and he thought, caught you, you bastard, I’ll bet you understand Portuguese.
Sono the maid had her head bent close to the litter curtains. She listened, and came back to Mariko.
“So sorry, Mariko-sama, but my Mistress asks if the madman is well enough to continue? She asks if you would give him your litter because my Mistress feels we should hurry for the tide. All the trouble that the madman has caused has made her even more upset. But, knowing that the mad are only afflicted by the gods, she will say prayers for his return to health, and will personally give him medicines to cure him once we are aboard.”
Mariko translated.
“Yes. I’m all right now.” Blackthorne got up and swayed on his feet.
Yabu barked a command.
“Yabu-san says you will ride in the litter, Anjin-san.” Mariko smiled when he began to protest. “I’m really very strong and you needn’t worry, I’ll walk beside you so you can talk if you wish.”
He allowed himself to be helped into the litter. At once they started again. The rolling gait was soothing and he lay back depleted. He waited until the captain of the Grays had strode away to the head of the column, then whispered in Latin, warning her, “That centurion understandeth the other tongue.”
“Aye. And I believe some Latin also,” she whispered back as quietly. She walked for a moment. “In seriousness, thou art a brave man. I thank thee for saving him.”
“Thou hadst stronger bravery.”
“No, the Lord God hath placed my feet onto the path, and rendered me a little useful. Again I thank thee.”
The city by night was a fairyland. The rich houses had many colored lanterns, oil-lit and candle-lit, hanging over their gateways and in their gardens, the shoji screens giving off a delightful translucence. Even the poor houses were mellowed by the shojis. Lanterns lit the way of pedestrians and kagas, and of samurai, who rode horseback.
“We burn oil for lamps in the houses as well as candles, but with the coming of night, most people go to bed,” Mariko explained