Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [271]
“There’s always time for those.” Their eyes met for a moment but he could not read anything in hers, only happiness and maybe too much wine.
Mariko begged him to sing the hornpipe song for Fujiko, and he did and they congratulated him and said it was the best they had ever heard.
“Have some more saké!”
“Oh, you mustn’t pour, Anjin-san, that’s woman’s duty. Didn’t I tell you?”
“Yes. Have some more, dozo.”
“I’d better not. I think I’ll fall over.” Mariko fluttered her fan furiously and the draft stirred the threads of hair that had escaped from her immaculate coiffure.
“You have nice ears,” he said.
“So have you. We, Fujiko-san and I, we think your nose is perfect too, worthy of a daimyo.”
He grinned and bowed elaborately to them. They bowed back. The folds of Mariko’s kimono fell away from her neck slightly, revealing the edge of her scarlet under-kimono and the swell of her breasts, and it stirred him considerably.
“Saké, Anjin-san?”
He held out the cup, his fingers steady. She poured, watching the cup, the tip of her tongue touching her lips as she concentrated.
Fujiko reluctantly accepted some too, though she said that she couldn’t feel her legs anymore. Her quiet melancholia had gone tonight and she seemed young again. Blackthorne noticed that she was not as ugly as he had once thought.
Jozen’s head was buzzing. Not from saké but from me incredible war strategy that Yabu, Omi, and Igurashi had described so openly. Only Naga, the second-in-command, son of the arch-enemy, had said nothing, and had remained throughout the evening cold, arrogant, stiff-backed, with the characteristic large Toranaga nose on a taut face.
“Astonishing, Yabu-sama,” Jozen said. “Now I can understand the reason for secrecy. My Master will understand it also. Wise, very wise. And you, Naga-san, you’ve been silent all evening. I’d like your opinion. How do you like this new mobility—this new strategy?”
“My father believes that all war possibilities should be considered, Jozen-san,” the young man replied.
“But you, what’s your opinion?”
“I was sent here only to obey, to observe, to listen, to learn, and to test. Not to give opinions.”
“Of course. But as second-in-command—I should say, as an illustrious second-in-command—do you consider the experiment a success?”
“Yabu-sama or Omi-san should answer that. Or my father.”
“But Yabu-sama said that everyone tonight was to talk freely. What’s there to hide? We are all friends, neh? So famous a son of so famous a father must have an opinion. Neh?”
Naga’s eyes narrowed under the taunt but he did not reply.
“Everyone can speak freely, Naga-san,” Yabu said. “What do you think?”
“I think that, with surprise, this idea would win one skirmish or possibly one battle. With surprise, yes. But then?” Naga’s voice swept on icily. “Then all sides would use the same plan and vast numbers of men would die unnecessarily, slain without honor by an assailant who won’t even know who he has killed. I doubt if my father will actually authorize its use in a real battle.”
“He’s said that?” Yabu put the question incisively, careless of Jozen.
“No, Yabu-sama. I’m giving my own opinion. Of course.”
“But the Musket Regiment—you don’t approve of it? It disgusts you?” Yabu asked darkly.
Naga looked at him with flat, reptilian eyes. “With great deference, since you ask my opinion, yes, I find it disgusting. Our forefathers have always known whom they killed or who defeated them. That’s bushido, our way, the Way of the Warrior, the way of a true samurai. The better man victorious, neh? But now this? How do you prove your valor to your lord? How can he reward courage? To charge bullets is brave, yes, but also stupid. Where’s the valor in that? Guns are against our samurai code. Barbarians fight this way, peasants fight this way. Do you realize filthy merchants and peasants, even eta, could fight this way?” Jozen laughed and Naga continued even more menacingly. “A few fanatic peasants could easily kill any number of samurai with enough guns! Yes, peasants could kill any one of us,