Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [411]
What about the agony of the tonsured virgin priest who, naked and on his knees, prayed first to his bigot Christian God, begging forgiveness for the sin he was about to commit with the girl, and the other sin, a real one, that he had done in Osaka—strange secret things of the “confessional” that were whispered to him by a leper, then treacherously passed on by him to Lord Harima. What would Toranaga make of that? Endlessly pouring out what was whispered and passed onward, and then the praying with tight-closed eyes—before the poor demented fool spread the girl wide with no finesse and, later, slunk off like a foul night creature. So much hatred and agony and twisted shame.
What about Omi’s second cook, who whispered to a maid who whispered to her paramour who whispered to Akiko that he’d overheard Omi and his mother plotting the death of Kasigi Yabu, their liege lord? Ha! That knowledge made public would set a cat among all the Kasigi pigeons! So would Omi’s and Yabu’s secret offer to Zataki if whispered into Toranaga’s ear—or the words Zataki muttered in his sleep that his pillow partner memorized and sold to me the next day for a whole silver chojin, words that implied General Ishido and Lady Ochiba ate together, slept together, and that Zataki himself had heard them grunting and groaning and crying out as Yang pierced Yin even up to the Far Field! Gyoko smiled to herself smugly. Shocking, neh, people in such high places!
What about the other strange fact that at the moment of the Clouds and the Rain, and a few times before, the Lord Zataki had unconsciously called his pillow partner “Ochiba.” Curious, neh?
Would the oh-so-necessary-to-both-sides Zataki change his song if Toranaga offered him Ochiba as bait? Gyoko chuckled, warmed by all the lovely secrets, all so valuable in the right ears, that men had spilled out with their Joyful Juice. “He’d change,” she murmured confidently. “Oh, very yes.”
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing Inari-chan. Did you sleep well?”
“What?”
She smiled and let him slide back into sleep. Then, when he was ready, she put her hands and lips on him for his pleasure. And for hers.
“Where’s the Ingeles now, Father?”
“I don’t know exactly, Rodrigues. Yet. It would be one of the inns south of Mishima. I left a servant to find out which.” Alvito gathered up the last of the gravy with a crust of new bread.
“When will you know?”
“Tomorrow, without fail.”
“Que va, I’d like to see him again. Is he fit?” Rodrigues asked levelly.
“Yes.” The ship’s bell sounded six times. Three o’clock in the afternoon.
“Did he tell you what happened to him since he left Osaka?”
“I know parts of it. From him and others. It’s a long story and there’s much to tell. First I’ll deal with my dispatches, then we’ll talk.”
Rodrigues leaned back in his chair in the small stern cabin. “Good. That’d be very good.” He saw the sharp features of the Jesuit, the sharp brown eyes flecked with yellow. Cat’s eyes. “Listen, Father,” he said, “the Ingeles saved my ship and my life. Sure he’s enemy, sure he’s heretic, but he’s a pilot, one of the best that’s ever been. It’s not wrong to respect an enemy, even to like one.”
“The Lord Jesus forgave his enemies but they still crucified Him.” Calmly Alvito returned the pilot’s gaze. “But I like him too. At least, I understand him better. Let’s leave him for the moment.”
Rodrigues nodded agreeably. He noticed the priest’s plate was empty so he reached across the table and moved the platter closer. “Here, Father, have some more capon. Bread?”
“Thank you. Yes, I will. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” The priest gratefully tore off another leg and took more sage and onion and bread stuffing, then poured the last of the rich gravy over it.
“Wine?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Where are the rest of your people, Father?”
“I left them at an inn near the wharf.”
Rodrigues glanced out of the stern bay windows that overlooked Nimazu, the wharfs and the port and, just to starboard, the mouth of the Kano, where the water was darker than the rest of the sea. Many fishing boats were plying