Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [202]
“Tell me how, Sire. And it will be done.”
“Put this foreign God away.”
“Sire?” Her face froze.
“Put your God away. You have one too many loyalties.”
“You mean become apostate, Sire? Give up Christianity?”
“Yes, unless you can put this God where He belongs—in the back of your spirit, not in the front.”
“Please excuse me, Sire,” she said shakily, “but my religion has never interfered with my loyalty to you. I’ve always kept my religion a private matter, all the time. How have I failed you?”
“You haven’t yet. But you will.”
“Tell me what I must do to please you.”
“The Christians may become my enemies, neh?”
“Your enemies are mine, Lord.”
“The priests oppose me now. They may order all Christians to war on me.”
“They can’t, Sire. They’re men of peace.”
“And if they continue to oppose me? If Christians war on me?”
“You will never have to fear my loyalty. Never.”
“This Anjin-san may speak the truth and your priests with false tongues.”
“There are good priests and bad priests, Sire. But you are my liege lord.”
“Very well, Mariko-san,” Toranaga said. “I’ll accept that. You’re ordered to become friends with this barbarian, to learn all he knows, to report everything he says, to learn to think like him, to ‘confess’ nothing about what you’re doing, to treat all priests with suspicion, to report everything the priests ask you or say to you. Your God must fit in between, elsewhere—or not at all.”
Mariko pushed a thread of hair out of her eyes. “I can do all that, Sire, and still remain Christian. I swear it.”
“Good. Swear it by this Christian God.”
“Before God I swear it.”
“Good.” Toranaga turned and called out, “Fujiko-san!”
“Yes, Sire?”
“Did you bring maids with you?”
“Yes, Sire. Two.”
“Give one to Mariko-san. Send the other for cha.”
“There’s saké if you wish.”
“Cha. Yabu-san, would you like cha or saké?”
“Cha, please.”
“Bring saké for the Anjin-san.”
Light caught the little golden crucifix that hung from Mariko’s neck. She saw Toranaga stare at it. “You … you wish me not to wear it, Sire? To throw it away?”
“No,” he said. “Wear it as a reminder of your oath.”
They all watched the frigate. Toranaga felt someone looking at him and glanced around. He saw the hard face and cold blue eyes and felt the hate—no, not hate, the suspicion. How dare the barbarian be suspicious of me, he thought.
“Ask the Anjin-san why didn’t he just say there’re plenty of cannon on the barbarian ship? Get them to escort us out of the trap?”
Mariko translated. Blackthorne answered.
“He says …” Mariko hesitated, then continued in a rush, “Please excuse me, he said, ‘It’s good for him to use his own head.’”
Toranaga laughed. “Thank him for his. It’s been most useful. I hope it stays on his shoulders. Tell him that now we’re equal.”
“He says, ‘No, we’re not equal, Toranaga-sama. But give me my ship and a crew and I’ll wipe the seas clean. Of any enemy.’”
“Mariko-san, do you think he meant me as well as the others—the Spanish and the Southern Barbarians?” The question was put lightly.
The breeze wafted strands of hair into her eyes. She pushed them away tiredly. “I don’t know, so sorry. Perhaps, perhaps not. Do you want me to ask him? I’m sorry, but he’s a … he’s very strange. I’m afraid I don’t understand him. Not at all.”
“We’ve plenty of time. Yes. In time he’ll explain himself to us.”
Blackthorne had seen the frigate quietly slip her moorings the moment her escort of Grays had hurried away, had watched her launch her longboat, which had quickly warped the ship away from her berth at the jetty, well out into the stream. Now she lay a few cables offshore in deep water, safe, a light bow anchor holding her gently, broadside to the shore. This was the normal maneuver of all European ships in alien or hostile harbors when a shore danger threatened. He knew, too, that though there was—and had been—no untoward movement on deck, by now all cannon would be primed, muskets issued, grape, cannonball, and chainshot ready in abundance, cutlasses waiting in their racks—and armed men aloft in the shrouds. Eyes would be searching