Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [445]
“Sire?”
He did not answer. He was thinking, I wish Hiro-matsu were here, then there’d be at least one man I could trust completely. “What about you? What about your loyalty?”
“Please, Sire, you must know you have that.”
He did not reply. His eyes were unrelenting.
The inner door opened and Chano, the nun, came confidently into the room without knocking, a tray in her hands. “Here you are, Great Lord, it was ready for you.” She knelt as a peasant, her hands were rough like a peasant’s, but her self-assurance was enormous and her inner contentment obvious. “May Buddha bless you with his peace.” Then she turned to Mariko, bowed as a peasant would bow, and settled back comfortably. “Perhaps you’d honor me by pouring, Lady. You’ll do it prettily without spilling it, neh?” Her eyes gleamed with private amusement.
“With pleasure, Oku-san,” Mariko said, giving her the religious Mother title, hiding her surprise. She had never seen Naga’s mother before. She knew most of Toranaga’s other official ladies, having seen them at official ceremonies, but she was on good terms only with Kiritsubo and Lady Sazuko.
Toranaga said, “Chano-chan, this is the Lady Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro.”
“Ah, so desu, so sorry, I thought you were one of my Great Lord’s honored ladies. Please excuse me, Lady Toda, may the blessings of Buddha be upon thee.”
“Thank you,” Mariko said. She offered the cup to Toranaga. He accepted it and sipped.
“Pour for Chano-san and yourself,” he said.
“So sorry, not for me, Great Lord, with your permission, but my back teeth’re floating from so much cha and the bucket’s a long way away for these old bones.”
“The exercise would do you good,” Toranaga said, glad that he had sent for her when he returned to Yedo.
“Yes, Great Lord. You’re right—as you always were.” Chano turned her genial attention again to Mariko. “So you’re Lord Akechi Jinsai’s daughter.”
Mariko’s cup hesitated in the air. “Yes. Please excuse me …”
“Oh, that’s nothing to wish to be excused about, child.” Chano laughed kindly, and her stomach heaved up and down. “I didn’t place you without your name, please excuse me, but the last time I saw you was at your wedding.”
“Oh?”
“Oh, yes, I saw you at your wedding, but you didn’t see me. I spied you from behind a screen. Yes, you and all the great ones, the Dictator, and Nakamura, the Taikō-to-be, and all the nobles. Oh, I was much too shy to mix in that company. But that was such a good time for me. The best of my life. That was the second year my Great Lord favored me and I was heavy with child—though still the peasant I’ve always been.” Her eyes crinkled and she added, “You’re very little different from those days, still one of Buddha’s chosen.”
“Ah, I wish that were true, Oku-san.”
“It’s true. Did you know you were one of Buddha’s chosen?”
“I’m not, Oku-san, much as I would like to be.”
Toranaga said, “She’s Christian.”
“Ah, Christian—what does that matter to a woman, Christian or Buddha, Great Lord? Not a lot sometimes, though some god’s necessary to a woman.” Chano chuckled gleefully. “We women need a god, Great Lord, to help us deal with men, neh?”
“And we men need patience, godlike patience, to deal with women, neh?”
The woman laughed, and it warmed the room and, for an instant, lessened some of Mariko’s foreboding. “Yes, Great Lord,” Chano continued, “and all because of a Heavenly Pavilion that has no future, little warmth, and a sufficiency of hell.”
Toranaga grunted. “What do you say to that, Mariko-san?”
“The Lady Chano is wise beyond her youth,” Mariko said.
“Ah, Lady, you say pretty things to an old fool,” the nun told her. “I remember you so well. Your kimono was blue with the loveliest pattern of cranes on it I’ve ever seen. In silver.” Her eyes went back to Toranaga. “Well, Great Lord, I just wanted to sit for a moment. Please excuse me now.”
“There’s time yet. Stay where you are.”
“Yes, Great Lord,” Chano said, ponderously getting to her feet, “I would obey as always but