Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [405]
“You believe they’re lovers?”
“What is God but love? Isn’t that the Lord Jesus’ word?” Michael had replied. “I only mentioned I saw their eyes touching each other and that it was so beautiful to see. About their bodies I don’t know, Father, and in truth I don’t care. Their souls touch and I seem to be more aware of God because of it.”
“You must be mistaken about them. She’d never do that! It’s against her whole heritage, against her law and the law of God. She’s a devout Christian. She knows adultery’s a hideous sin.”
“Yes, that is what we teach. But her marriage was Shinto, not consecrated before the Lord our God, so is it adultery?”
“Do you also question the Word? Are you infected by Joseph’s heresy?”
“No, Father, please excuse me, never the Word. Only what man has made of it.”
From then on he had watched more closely. Clearly the man and woman liked each other greatly. Why shouldn’t they? Nothing wrong in that! Constantly thrown together, each learning from the other, the woman ordered to put away her religion, the man having none, or only a patina of the Lutheran heresy as dell’Aqua had said was true of all Englishmen. Both strong, vital people, however ill-matched.
At confession she said nothing. He did not press her. Her eyes told him nothing and everything, but never was there anything real to judge. He could hear himself explaining to dell’Aqua, ‘Michael must have been mistaken, Eminence.’
‘But did she commit adultery? Was there any proof?’
‘Thankfully, no proof.’
Alvito reined in and turned back momentarily. He saw her standing on the slight rise, the Pilot talking to Yoshinaka, the old madam and her painted whore lying in their palanquin. He was tormented by the fanatic zeal welling up inside him. For the first time he dared to ask, Have you whored with the Pilot, Mariko-san? Has the heretic damned your soul for all eternity? You, who were chosen in life to be a nun and probably our first native abbess? Are you living in foul sin, unconfessed, desecrated, hiding your sacrilege from your confessor, and thus are you too befouled before God?
He saw her wave. This time he did not acknowledge it but turned his back, jabbed his spurs into his horse’s flanks, and hurried away.
That night their sleep was disturbed.
“What is it, my love?”
“Nothing, Mariko-chan. Go back to sleep.”
But she did not. Nor did he. Long before she had to, she slipped back into her own room, and he got up and sat in the courtyard studying the dictionary under candlelight until dawn. When the sun came and the day warmed, their night cares vanished and they continued their journey peacefully. Soon they reached the great trunk road, the Tokaidō, just east of Mishima, and travelers became more numerous. The vast majority were, as always, on foot, their belongings on their backs. There were a few pack horses on the road and no carriages at all.
“Oh, carriage—that’s something with wheels, neh? They’re of no use in Japan, Anjin-san. Our roads are too steep and always crisscrossed with rivers and streams. Wheels would also ruin the surface of the roads, so they are forbidden to everyone except the Emperor, and he travels only a few cermonial ri in Kyoto on a special road. We don’t need wheels. How can you carry vehicles over a river or stream—and there are too many, far too many to bridge. There are perhaps sixty streams to cross between here and Yedo, Anjin-san. How many have we already had to cross? Dozens, neh? No, we all walk or ride horseback. Of course horses and palanquins particularly are allowed only for important persons, daimyos and samurai, and not even all samurai.”
“What? Even if you can afford one you can’t hire one?”
“Not unless you’ve the correct rank, Anjin-san. That’s very wise, don’t you think? Doctors and the very old can travel by horse or palanquin, or the very sick, if they get permission in writing from their liege lord. Palanquins or horses wouldn’t be right for peasants and commoners, Anjin-san. That could teach them lazy habits, neh? It’s much more healthy