Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [420]
“Jesus God in Heaven, Mariko, look at her! Have you ever seen anything like her? Look at her lines!”
His ship was beyond the closed, encircling barriers a hundred paces away, moored to the dock with new ropes. The whole area was heavily guarded, more samurai were on deck, and signs everywhere said this was a forbidden area except with Lord Toranaga’s personal permission.
Erasmus had been freshly painted and tarred, her decks were spotless, her hull caulked and her rigging repaired. Even the foremast that had been carried away in the storm had been replaced with the last of the spares she carried in her hold, and stepped to a perfect angle. All rope ends were neatly coiled, all cannon gleaming under a protective sheen of oil behind their gun ports. And the ragged Lion of England fluttered proudly over all.
“Ahoy!” he shouted joyfully from outside the barriers, but there was no answering call. One of the sentries told him there were no barbarians aboard today.
“Shigata ga nai,” Blackthorne said. “Domo.” He curbed his soaring impatience to go aboard at once and beamed at Mariko. “It’s as if she’s just come out of a refit at Portsmouth dockyard, Mariko-san. Look at her cannon—the lads must’ve worked like dogs. She’s beautiful, neh? Can’t wait to see Baccus and Vinck and the others. Never thought I’d find her like that. Christ Jesus, she looks so pretty, neh?”
Mariko was watching him and not the ship. She knew she was forgotten now. And replaced.
Never mind, she told herself. Our journey’s over.
This morning they had arrived at the last of the turnpikes on the outskirts of Yedo. Once more their travel papers were checked. Once more they were passed through with politeness, but this time a new honor guard was waiting for them.
“They’re to take us to the castle, Anjin-san. You’ll stay there, and this evening we’re to meet Lord Toranaga.”
“Good, then there’s plenty of time. Look, Mariko-san, the docks aren’t more than a mile off, neh? My ship’s there somewhere. Would you ask the Captain Yoshinaka if we can go there, please?”
“He says, so sorry, but he has no instructions to do that, Anjin-san. He is to take us to the castle.”
“Please tell him … perhaps I’d better try. Taicho-san! Okashira, sukoshi no aida watakushi wa ikitai no desu. Watakushi no funega asoko ni arimasu.” Captain, I want to go there now for a little while. My ship’s there.
“Iyé, Anjin-san, gomen nasai. Ima…”
Mariko had listened approvingly and with amusement as Blackthorne had argued courteously and insisted firmly, and then, reluctantly, Yoshinaka had allowed them to detour, but just for a moment, neh? and only because the Anjin-san claimed hatamoto status, which gave certain inalienable rights, and had pointed out that a quick examination was important to Lord Toranaga, that it would certainly save their lord’s immensely valuable time and was vital to his meeting tonight. Yes, the Anjin-san may look for a moment, but so sorry, it is of course forbidden to go on the ship without papers signed personally by Lord Toranaga, and it must only be for a moment because we are expected, so sorry.
“Domo, Taicho-san,” Blackthorne had said expansively, more than a little pleased with his increased understanding of the correct ways to persuade and his growing command of the language.
Last night and most of yesterday they had spent at an inn barely two ri southward down the road, Yoshinaka allowing them to dawdle as before.
Oh, that was such a lovely night, she thought.
There had been so many lovely days and nights. All perfect except the first day after leaving Mishima, when Father Tsukku-san caught up with them again and the precarious truce between the two men was ripped asunder. Their quarrel had been sudden, vicious, fueled by the Rodrigues incident and too much brandy. Threat and counter-threat and curses and then Father Alvito had spurred on ahead for Yedo, leaving disaster in his wake, the joy of the journey ruined.
“We must not let this happen, Anjin-san.”
“But that man had no right—”
“Oh yes, I