Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [461]
“Ah, Anjin-san,” Yabu said. “How are you?”
“Good, thank you, Sire. And you?”
“Good, thank you. Lord Toranaga’s sick. He asked me to come in his place. You understand?”
“Yes. Understand,” Blackthorne replied, trying to cover his disappointment at Toranaga’s nonarrival. “So sorry Lord Toranaga sick.”
Yabu shrugged, acknowledged Mariko deferentially, pretended not to notice Alvito, and studied the ship for a moment. His smile was twisted as he turned back to Blackthorne. “So desu, Anjin-san. Your ship’s different from the last time I saw it, neh? Yes, the ship’s different, you’re different, everything’s different—even our world’s different! Neh?”
“So sorry, I don’t understand, Sire. Please excuse me but your words very fast. As my—” Blackthorne began the stock phrase but Yabu interrupted gutturally, “Mariko-san, please translate for me.”
She did so.
Blackthorne nodded and said slowly, “Yes. Different, Yabu-sama.”
“Yes, very different—you’re no longer barbarian but samurai, and so is your ship, neh?”
Blackthorne saw the smile on the thick lips, the pugnacious stance, and suddenly he was back at Anjiro, back on the beach on his knees, Croocq in the cauldron, Pieterzoon’s screams ringing in his ears, the stench of the pit in his nostrils, and his mind was shouting, ‘So unnecessary all that—all the suffering and terror and Pieterzoon and Spillbergen and Maetsukker and the jail and eta and trapped and all your fault!’
“Are you all right, Anjin-san?” Mariko asked, apprehensive at the look in his eyes.
“What? Oh—oh, yes. Yes, I’m all right.”
“What’s the matter with him?” Yabu said.
Blackthorne shook his head, trying to clear it and wash the hatred off his face. “So sorry. Please excuse me. I’m—I—it’s nothing. Head bad—no sleep. So sorry.” He stared back into Yabu’s eyes, hoping he had covered his dangerous lapse. “Sorry Toranaga-sama sick—hope no trouble Yabu-sama.”
“No, no trouble.” Yabu was thinking, yes trouble, you’re nothing but trouble and I’ve had nothing but trouble ever since you and your filthy ship arrived on my shores. Izu gone, my guns gone, all honor gone, and now my head forfeit because of a coward. “No trouble, Anjin-san,” he said so nicely. “Toranaga-sama asked me to hand over your vassals to you as he promised.” His eyes fell on Alvito. “So, Tsukku-san! Why are you enemy to Toranaga-sama?”
“I’m not, Kasigi Yabu-sama.”
“Your Christian daimyos are, neh?”
“Please excuse me, Sire, but we are priests only, we’re not responsible for the political views of those who worship the True Faith, nor do we exercise control over those daintyos who—”
“The True Faith of this Land of the Gods is Shinto, together with the Tao; the Way of Buddha!”
Alvito did not answer. Yabu turned contemptuously away and snapped an order. The ragged group of samurai began to line up in front of the ship. Not one was armed. Some had their hands bound.
Alvito stepped forward and bowed. “Perhaps you will excuse me, Sire. I was to see Lord Toranaga. As he isn’t coming—”
“Lord Toranaga wanted you here to interpret for him with the Anjin-san,” Yabu interrupted with deliberate bad manners, as Toranaga had told him to do. “Yes, to interpret as you alone can do so cleverly, speaking directly and at once, neh? Of course you have no objection to doing for me what Lord Toranaga required, before you go?”
“No, of course not, Sire.”
“Good. Mariko-san! Lord Toranaga asks that you see the Anjin-san’s responses are equally correctly translated.” Alvito reddened but held onto his temper.
“Yes, Sire,” Mariko said, hating Yabu.
Yabu snapped another order. Two samurai went to the litter and returned with the ship’s strongbox, heavy between them. “Tsukku-san, now you will begin: Listen, Anjin-san, firstly, Lord Toranaga’s asked me to return this. It’s your property, neh? Open it,” he ordered the samurai. The box was brimful with silver coins. “This is as it was taken off the ship.”
“Thank you.” Blackthorne was hardly able to believe his eyes, for this gave him power to buy the very best crew, without promises.