Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [56]
“Perhaps I may be allowed to call it ‘The Happiness Stone’ to remind me and my descendants of the honors you do to me, Uncle?”
“No—better just simply name it ‘The Waiting Barbarian.’ Yes, I like that. That joins us further together—him and me. He was waiting as I was waiting. I lived, he died.” Yabu looked at the garden, musing. “Good, ‘The Waiting Barbarian’! I like that. There are curious flecks on one side of the rock that remind me of tears, and veins of blue mixed with a reddish quartz that remind me of flesh—the impermanence of it!” Yabu sighed, enjoying his melancholy. Then he added, “It’s good for a man to plant a stone and name a stone. The barbarian took a long time to die, neh? Perhaps he will be reborn Japanese, to compensate for his suffering. Wouldn’t that be marvelous? Then one day, perhaps, his descendants would see his stone and be content.”
Omi poured out his heartfelt thanks, and protested that he did not deserve such bounty. Yabu knew that the bounty was not more than deserved. He could easily have given more, but he had remembered the old adage that you can always increase a fief, but to reduce one causes enmity. And treachery.
“Oku-san,” he said to the woman, giving her the title of Honorable Mother, “my brother should have told me sooner about the great qualities of his youngest son. Then Omi-san would have been much further advanced today. My brother’s too retiring, too thoughtless.”
“My husband’s too thoughtful for you, my Lord, to worry you,” she replied, aware of the underlying criticism. “I’m glad that my son has had an opportunity of serving you, and that he’s pleased you. My son has only done his duty, neh? It’s our duty—Mizuno-san and all of us—to serve.”
Horses clattered up the rise. Igurashi, Yabu’s chief retainer, strode through the garden. “Everything’s ready, Sire. If you want to get back to Yedo quickly we should leave now.”
“Good. Omi-san, you and your men will go with the convoy and assist Igurashi-san to see it safely into the castle.” Yabu saw a shadow cross Omi’s face. “What?”
“I was just thinking about the barbarians.”
“Leave a few guards for them. Compared to the convoy, they’re unimportant. Do what you want with them—put them back into the pit, do what you like. When and if you obtain anything useful from them, send me word.”
“Yes, Lord,” Omi replied. “I’ll leave ten samurai and specific instructions with Mura—they’ll come to no harm in five or six days. What do you want done with the ship itself?”
“Keep it safe here. You’re responsible for it, of course. Zukimoto has sent letters to a dealer at Nagasaki to offer it for sale to the Portuguese. The Portuguese can come and collect it.”
Omi hesitated. “Perhaps you should keep the ship, Sire, and get the barbarians to train some of our sailors to handle it.”
“What do I need with barbarian ships?” Yabu laughed derisively. “Should I become a filthy merchant?”
“Of course not, Sire,” Omi said quickly. “I just thought Zukimoto might have found a use for such a vessel.”
“What do I need with a trading ship?”
“The priest said this was a warship, Sire. He seemed afraid of it. When war starts, a warship could—”
“Our war will be fought on land. The sea’s for merchants, all of whom are filthy usurers, pirates or fishermen.” Yabu got up and began to walk down the steps toward the garden gate, where a samurai was holding the bridle of his horse. He stopped and stared out to sea. His knees went weak.
Omi followed his glance.
A ship was rounding the headland. She was a large galley with a multitude of oars, the swiftest of the Japanese coastal vessels because she depended neither upon the wind, nor upon the tide. The flag at the masthead carried the Toranaga crest.
CHAPTER 7
Toda Hiro-matsu, overlord of the provinces of Sagami and Kozuké, Toranaga’s most trusted general and adviser, commander-in-chief of all his armies, strode down the gangplank onto the wharf alone. He was tall for a Japanese, just under six feet, a